tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23107614089929942602024-03-13T03:15:58.670+00:00CAPTAIN CENTURY'S BIANCHI BICYCLE DIARIESHello! I'm a sixty(ish) road cyclist. I started this website in 2015 when I rode from Land's End to John O'Groats. Now I use it to write about some of my other cycling adventures. Enjoy!Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.comBlogger186125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2310761408992994260.post-65467952807473617252020-12-01T15:35:00.002+00:002021-06-29T15:41:55.108+01:00THE CAPTAIN IS TAKING A BREAK<p> Hello Readers!</p><p><br /></p><p>Like many people my activities have been constrained by the Coronavirus pandemic. Consequently, although I have been riding quite a lot I haven't been anywhere special or had many exciting adventures. Well, exciting enough to share with you. So I have decided to have a break from blogging for a while and I hope to return, refreshed and reinvigorated next year.</p><p>Awrrabest!</p><p>The Captain</p>Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2310761408992994260.post-36211404307095057792020-08-28T17:00:00.001+01:002020-10-26T18:01:06.649+00:00<p><b>PLAYING CATCH UP AGAIN!</b></p><p><br /></p>Well hello readers. Yet again I seem to have let you down by not keeping you up to speed with my activities. I have probably been having too much fun in the saddle and as I have said before, faced with a choice between the keyboard and the saddle, the saddle always wins. So there! But as it’s a wet afternoon and after being chastised by a few of you I’m going to try and make amends. So, let’s roll the clock back to the start of the year and chase down the peloton. As they are now several miles up the road I am going to have to up my cadence and work hard to catch up.<div><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3iXGxNBxpk7Bhfr5a5b_KYkmM_ofrHhomjMPQHlleRyvrfrEWzPUlDX2xNQ54veTIlC1ZGWMBQx80Qp8K9zqfdtipsr1jKWoeWFUHNGZK6Vwofx4vbRorkM2prvmWjkBTew1whD0M1uPW/s2048/2020-017.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1257" data-original-width="2048" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3iXGxNBxpk7Bhfr5a5b_KYkmM_ofrHhomjMPQHlleRyvrfrEWzPUlDX2xNQ54veTIlC1ZGWMBQx80Qp8K9zqfdtipsr1jKWoeWFUHNGZK6Vwofx4vbRorkM2prvmWjkBTew1whD0M1uPW/w400-h245/2020-017.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Garden of the Gods - Cycling Heaven?<br /></td></tr></tbody></table>I returned to the USA at the end of January, flying to Denver to meet Mary and stay, sans bike, with her sister and brother-in-law for a few days in Colorado Springs on the eastern side of the Rockies. We visited the Garden of the Gods with its spectacular rock formations. This was a beautiful place with some great ride possibilities. So great that I was sorely tempted to snag a bike by any means possible and set off to explore further. But I restrained myself and hopefully I will be invited back and have an opportunity to stretch my climbing legs.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>After a week at altitude (around 8,000 ft) we were soon heading back to Sacramento which now feels like I’m returning home. I was pleased to be reunited with Fausto, my Bianchi Infinito, and we were soon heading out on the American River Bike trail to get back in the groove. Our 40‑mile first ride was just the ticket to re-acquaint ourselves with each other. It was a bit like meeting an old friend and our conversation picked up exactly where it had ended a few weeks before. The bike trail is a wonderful resource and I was determined to enjoy it to the full. Having spent several weeks riding on UK roads it was a pleasant change to ride without having to worry about cars! As I write this blog post at the beginning of September, it seems strange to think back to a time when the media were just beginning to report a virus outbreak in China. Like most people I had no inkling of what was about to happen and how much our lives and lifestyles were going to change.</div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2iPUGD6gyAz-7oLTSpcoMOymrbWBaEPcxD7BsF4OEF27gfXkM2F8urpYpOeU11gc9cQ61wvNYlkXIj0qIDh8TCN-5STuLvZ-eKCoYXe-C_oVeP2xQZjoUBLAgzannpTq4QSbld-y4ewRt/s2048/2020-024.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2iPUGD6gyAz-7oLTSpcoMOymrbWBaEPcxD7BsF4OEF27gfXkM2F8urpYpOeU11gc9cQ61wvNYlkXIj0qIDh8TCN-5STuLvZ-eKCoYXe-C_oVeP2xQZjoUBLAgzannpTq4QSbld-y4ewRt/s320/2020-024.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One happy author!<br /></td></tr></tbody></table>I managed to clock up close to 1,000 miles in February including finding a few new routes to take me further afield. My latest book, <i><a href="https://www.troubador.co.uk/bookshop/autobiography/can-i-tell-you-something/" target="_blank">Can I Tell You Something?</a></i> was published at the end of the month. It’s the story of my 2018 tour across the USA. Opening one of the boxes that the publisher had sent to me in Sacramento and holding the finished book for the first time was a really exciting moment. There had been a few production issues with the cover when it was being printed so I was pleased to see that it had turned out well in the end. I was especially pleased with the blurb on the back cover:</div><div><br /></div><div><i>“Mark Pritchard has an engaging writing style. Can I Tell You Something? puts you on the saddle of his bike so that you can almost hear the swish of tyres on the tarmac and feel the breeze on your face. It’s the next best thing to being on the tour yourself.”</i></div><div><br /></div><div>If you’re a regular reader of this blog then you’ll understand what this all about!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVZE4j1ltxIKA9G7dEDBQkhiXrrgO0nVYMJh_fCbODu5ReUZrLXeJkIcujxLwJ-7MyGgW8Jj5gnTWQNYG7sc2ZWquDDSnQCaD1-2AckBkdp_fRNoevhaNkbEFSczDsHyfkF84HyuuFIDq_/s2048/2020-026.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVZE4j1ltxIKA9G7dEDBQkhiXrrgO0nVYMJh_fCbODu5ReUZrLXeJkIcujxLwJ-7MyGgW8Jj5gnTWQNYG7sc2ZWquDDSnQCaD1-2AckBkdp_fRNoevhaNkbEFSczDsHyfkF84HyuuFIDq_/s320/2020-026.JPG" /></a></div>Early in March I completed my first century ride of the year. I had bought a book about rides in northern California and there were a couple in the Sacramento Delta area south of the city so I decided to explore the area which I hadn’t been to before. I managed to navigate myself across the city to the Freeport Bridge which is a gateway to the delta. This was quite a hair-raising experience on busy roads through the suburbs where I definitely didn’t feel safe, both from the traffic and in some quite run down and economically depressed housing areas. I have since worked out how to get to the bridge by bike trail which has made me feel a lot happier.</div><div><br /></div><div>The Delta covers about 1,100 square miles and was formed by the Sacramento and San Joaquin Rivers. Subsidence due in part to wind erosion means that much of the area lies below sea level hence the nickname “California Holland”. There are a lot of similarities with the Fens which I often ride in back in the UK. One difference that I immediately noticed is that in the Fens most of the minor roads run below the levees and flood banks whereas in the Delta they sit on top of the levees. In the UK I am often grateful for the shelter from the cold Siberian winter winds. In the Delta I enjoyed the opportunity to see the views and appreciate the scale of the landscape. The Delta and the Fens are both important for the crops grown but the Delta, at least in the area I rode, stands apart for the sheer scale of its vineyards. Signs for the various wineries and a wine trail piqued my interest for the future. The area’s microclimate means that some very high-quality grape varieties are grown. The town of Clarksburg, which was the hub of my ride, boasts an appellation which is highly valued across the world.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtYn4o1NOU2ixuKuqEb9cDSKZtA4mSHwX9_e4DdKIHR0nE2WIQ-OlsdnliJzcU8yXEQSmCvC9rKnjCXMFhoAfP7ckQ8AfE14m2_1LJtH1PngKqDnDMn7tU13LVCXE4IEazwPSWmG6sESIk/s2048/2020-025.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtYn4o1NOU2ixuKuqEb9cDSKZtA4mSHwX9_e4DdKIHR0nE2WIQ-OlsdnliJzcU8yXEQSmCvC9rKnjCXMFhoAfP7ckQ8AfE14m2_1LJtH1PngKqDnDMn7tU13LVCXE4IEazwPSWmG6sESIk/s320/2020-025.JPG" /></a></div>The route I took followed some very minor, and in some places quite rough roads. The bumps are caused by roots as many of the levees are tree lined. Over the three hours I spent riding in the Delta I was passed by only two cars, so I was able to meander my way around the bumps with ease. I imagined that I was like the captain of a ship navigating through a minefield. One loss of concentration could be terminal. You will deduce that I survived intact to tell the tale!</div><div><br /></div><div>Many of the vineyards had people, including possibly whole families working in them and often they stood up and gave me a friendly wave which I returned as I passed by. If I was able to speak Spanish I would have been tempted to stop to learn a bit more about what they were doing. The long-distance views, with the Sierras just visible in the distant haze to the east were breath-taking. And the tranquillity and peace, with just the whirr of my wheels spinning, the occasional bird call and the gentle rustle of the breeze in the tree leaves, was so relaxing. And all this just 20 miles, as the crow flies, from the hustle and bustle of downtown Sacramento. I look forward to returning exploring more of the area.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Having reacquired the enjoyment of century riding I completed my second 100-mile ride of the year a week later. This time I rode west out of Sacramento to the city of Davis and then northwards through Woodland and Knights Landing to the Sacramento River which I followed until I estimated that I was just over 50 miles from home where I turned around and followed the river back to the city.</div><div><br /></div><div>Whilst waiting at some traffic lights when I was leaving Sacramento another rider pulled up alongside me and we got chatting. Rick, who was from Southern California, was staying in the city while his wife was at a conference. We rode together to Davis and Woodland where he turned right to head back towards the city and I continued northwards. Like cyclists everywhere we weren’t short of conversation! Except for the leg northwards out of Davis which involved riding into a very stiff headwind making conversation virtually impossible. We shared the lead position to provide each other with shelter. As I paused to bid Rick farewell he told me to remember that “the wind is my friend.” Sage advice indeed!</div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsNHXWrn1d-wiuwVGVUnPzJQDEUkFPz3cQwgsqWpP4uMNSYnRspHDIhbZeWWhaFWGHAQoy4i7zIpZmzcXQTvuPIZOzwy-eSlTm0AIo2Bhyphenhyphen0BIAygWXKSXK9Va3RDCzM7abyKg66qDCQJsr/s2048/2020-044.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsNHXWrn1d-wiuwVGVUnPzJQDEUkFPz3cQwgsqWpP4uMNSYnRspHDIhbZeWWhaFWGHAQoy4i7zIpZmzcXQTvuPIZOzwy-eSlTm0AIo2Bhyphenhyphen0BIAygWXKSXK9Va3RDCzM7abyKg66qDCQJsr/s320/2020-044.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fausto amongst the walnuts<br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Once I reached the Sacramento River the landscape was very similar the Delta area that I rode in last week. The main difference was that instead of vineyards the landscape was dotted with walnut plantations. California produces 99 per cent of the total USA walnut crop, spread over some 200,000 acres, and the Sacramento valley is one of the main growing areas. About one third of the crop is exported and California-grown walnuts account for three-quarters of world trade. Maybe the next time I have a café stop for coffee I’ll be savouring some Californian walnuts in my slice of coffee and walnut cake. Now there’s a thought!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>During April I continued to explore new routes with one highlight being a ride into the El Dorado Hills. Despite the name, the site of the gold strike in 1848 was actually several miles away in Coloma. Many readers will know that I enjoy the challenge of a hill climb. Lying in a river valley on a delta, and not yet having extensive local knowledge, means that for me at least, finding a good hill is a bit like finding hens teeth. Mary had talked about Beatty Drive in the El Dorado Hills which piqued my interest, so I set out towards Folsom to find out more. And I was not disappointed.</div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBD1TbUgBpsCpGm3UPEW4WrtkTKGBo1s_X7v2p7l0VhvNww8CoPRJ_SARelKXhohzb5gR-a_3VLR2gtjugZfI5eViezvabPBJIB5q9EYxP19B47UWBizKhyphenhyphenwng2WEDvXzU_Hws4GFVgbu1/s2048/2020-048.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBD1TbUgBpsCpGm3UPEW4WrtkTKGBo1s_X7v2p7l0VhvNww8CoPRJ_SARelKXhohzb5gR-a_3VLR2gtjugZfI5eViezvabPBJIB5q9EYxP19B47UWBizKhyphenhyphenwng2WEDvXzU_Hws4GFVgbu1/s320/2020-048.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading to the El Dorado Hills<br /></td></tr></tbody></table>The main part of the climb is about three-quarters of a mile long with an average gradient of 10% and maximum of 15%. Strava rates it as a Cat 4 climb. It was certainly stiff enough to get me breathing heavily and raised my heart rate to 170 bpm – I normally average around 120 bpm on my rides. The road swept upwards through some up up-market real estate with great views over Folsom Lake and back towards the city. Reaching what I took to be the top of the climb I paused to catch my breath before turning around and enjoying the descent on a smooth surface, sweeping through the curves in less than a quarter of the time that the ascent had taken. Looking at the map afterwards I realised that I could have gone further along the ridge and come back by a different route. Oh well, next time! And no, I didn’t find any gold.</div><div><br /></div><div>As mid-April approached it was time to return to the UK. By now the Coronavirus pandemic was in full flow with lockdowns in most countries across the globe. In California at least, I was still able to ride which provided some welcome relief. The rest of the time, apart from occasional trips to get groceries etc. Mary and I stayed at home with an upside that we were able to catch up on essential garden work! From early March as the virus took hold and people were furloughed, I noticed a significant increase in the number of riders on the trail. These included whole family groups which were great to see. There were also a lot of riders on new and up-market bikes wearing some pretty stylish kit who rode like they were sprinting to win a stage if the Tour of California. If only they had a better understanding of riding etiquette, or even a grasp of the concept of awareness and safety when other riders were using the trail. I had a number of close shaves, including one where I still don’t understand how I managed to stay upright!</div><div><br /></div><div>With direct flights back to the UK being severely curtailed I was lucky to be able to get a flight from LA to Heathrow. I was one of only 10 passengers on the flight and had a whole cabin to myself. There were more crew than passengers! Heathrow, when we arrived, was virtually deserted. It took me a mere 30 minutes to disembark and shuttle across to the rental car office, collect a car and drive on to the M25. If this had been a Strava segment I would surely have won a KOM! The drive back to Suffolk was quite eerie on virtually deserted motorways. The day after arriving I loaded CV into the back of the rental car, which I took back to the depot in Thetford. After completing the end of hire formalities CV and I enjoyed a gentle 40-mile ride around once familiar lanes as we headed back home.</div><div><br /></div><div>UK Government advice allowed exercise and as I live in the countryside I took this to mean that I could ride fairly freely as long as I didn’t stray too far from home. One of my ‘standard’ routes is about 50 miles long but never more than 10 miles from my house. One thing that struck me immediately was that there were a lot more people out riding. The media was reporting a massive surge in bicycle sales – so much so that in some places dealers were pretty much out of stock and quoting lead times of several months before they would be able to fill orders. Smart trainers were also out of stock and I was amused to learn that virtual racing on Zwift and other platforms was becoming quite the thing. Turbo training for me has and will probably remain a means to keeping my legs loose during inclement weather. The idea of riding in a sort of video game holds little appeal for me and instead prefer spinning the time away while watching a Scandi-noir series, or, confession time now, Dallas! Several years ago I bought the complete DVD box set (14 seasons, 4 movies and some spin-offs) for £10. Good old JR’s antics are great for getting me to maintain a high cadence – around 100rpm for an hour, if you must know.</div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZRX30CNuzRvfJlEls0ioMbMeGAI0sASziKzRolnXJXkwz1TS1ECJgIbv17coO7aoOp7HO8wYHJO-yBktD5P1lrY0w-mvFj67kpCbtDqxZS3VYD0ake0H0UH0MJ-Ib6__36-oPNBeUmmvX/s2048/2020-079.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZRX30CNuzRvfJlEls0ioMbMeGAI0sASziKzRolnXJXkwz1TS1ECJgIbv17coO7aoOp7HO8wYHJO-yBktD5P1lrY0w-mvFj67kpCbtDqxZS3VYD0ake0H0UH0MJ-Ib6__36-oPNBeUmmvX/s320/2020-079.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">100,000 miles riden!<br /></td></tr></tbody></table>In 2011 I started using Strava to record my rides and on 17 May I reached a significant milestone – 100,000 miles recorded. To celebrate my achievement I did a 70-mile ride with my buddy Daren and we stopped for a photo as I crossed the line. I felt quietly pleased with myself. And indulging in a bit of bragging my 100K miles involved 2,800,000 feet of climbing (nearly equivalent to 100 ascents of Mt Everest), 156 century rides and 5,750 hours in the saddle. So there you are. I have it on good authority that the next 100K are all downhill. Extrapolating this backwards, if that’s even possible, I estimate that I must have ridden around 250,000 miles in my lifetime.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNtNk_u5SnLR1i94AXOWw-e84zkNAq2Y35yOr_HJwiRJR-ptVwJ-D1S64PxFYTXvNOkVmpn9LVnWOg_3oLKqqDaJ98gGcD7scJMKtE9If9Gog6XlBOrulKIYS9GoZKuxVTZu9-LoxPLH2p/s2048/2020-144.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNtNk_u5SnLR1i94AXOWw-e84zkNAq2Y35yOr_HJwiRJR-ptVwJ-D1S64PxFYTXvNOkVmpn9LVnWOg_3oLKqqDaJ98gGcD7scJMKtE9If9Gog6XlBOrulKIYS9GoZKuxVTZu9-LoxPLH2p/s320/2020-144.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Suffolk sign spotting<br /></td></tr></tbody></table>As the summer unfolded I filled the time riding old routes on lanes and passing through villages that I haven’t seen for quite some time. Somewhere along the way I hit on a new challenge. Many villages in Britain have a pictorial sign depicting some aspect of their history and life. This set me thinking. How many villages in Suffolk have such signs and could I ride to and photograph all of them? With some giggling on the interweb I soon unearthed The Village Sign Society, paid the £8 joining subscription and was able to access their database where I discovered that there are nearly 500 signs in the county. So the challenge is on and I’ll tell you more in a future post. That’s a promise!!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Most years I try to ride a sportive in North Wales which holds some happy memories for me. This year I had hoped to ride the Tour de Môn (Anglesey) which I last rode a few years ago. It’s a spectacular day on a 100-mile circuit round the island. Pandemic precautions meant that this year the organisers had to cancel the event and instead offered to run it as an online sportive. I entered, downloaded the software and on the day of the event, accompanied by Daren I rode a circuit on the Fens. Not quite the same as riding on Anglesey but a good catalyst for a ride nevertheless and a few days afterwards I received a finishers medal to add to my collection.</div><div><br /></div><div>Well that’s about all my news. I hope you won't have to wait too long before you hear from me again. As I write this the delayed Tour de France has just begun. It’s odd to think that neither the Froomedog nor G are taking part. I wonder how it’s going to pan out. I heard one commentator describe it as a bit like a game of pass the parcel. You know, whoever is wearing the yellow jersey when the race is finished, or aborted, is the winner. In the meantime I’m hoping that team Jumbo-Visma, riding Bianchi’s will be successful. I also hope that Julian Allaphillippe will have some success. A victory by a French rider is long overdue and if he has the form then might just pull it off. <i>Au revoir lecteurs!</i><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <br /><br /> <br /><br /> </div>Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2310761408992994260.post-78207104656582998862019-12-31T14:54:00.000+00:002020-02-04T19:53:59.425+00:00<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">Putting 2019 in Perspective</span></b></h2>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Well a whole year has gone by and I’ve been more than a
little tardy in not keeping my blog up to date. My only (rather feeble) excuse
is that time spent sitting at the keyboard is time that I’m not sitting on my
saddle! Plus, I am only really motivated to write when the mood takes me AND
I’ve got something worthwhile to write about. But the flipside of that is that
without any posts you might think I’ve been doing nothing. Or worse! Quite the
reverse actually. I've had a very busy year and as it’s the last day of 2019 and
also my birthday I thought I would check in and tell you what I've been doing since I
last posted about that stunning ride up Mount Lemon at the end of January.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">After making the 1,500-mile round trip to Arizona for the Mount Lemon adventure, the
following week Mary and I made a <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Desert riding</td></tr>
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1,000-mile round trip to take part in the Tour
de Palm Springs. I rode the 100-mile route while Mary and Robin, who joined us
in Palm Springs, opted for the 70-mile circuit. It was quite a well-organised
event though I found the half-hour wait on the start line a tad tedious. The
young kids in mariachi band which played while we were waiting were very
entertaining. The stand-up comedian’s jokes were, I have to say, rather corny.
And the long list of thank-you’s delivered by a local worthy were – let’s just say
it was a long list. But after a quick blast of the national anthem we were soon
underway. Despite being in the desert it was actually pretty cold and I was
glad of the extra warmth provided by my Castelli Gabba jacket. After a somewhat
lumpy start which raised my pulse and breathing rate we turned east onto a long
(20-mile) and mostly downhill straight ending at a feed station. This was easy
riding and I was able to maintain an average 20mph by barely turning the
pedals. Some of the route was familiar to me as I was riding on roads that I last rode on last year on my tour across the USA. I felt quite at home too as I was riding with a group who were all
kitted out in British-made Rapha clothing. They were quite taken aback when
they realised that they were riding with a Brit. As the temperature warmed up I took off my Gabba to reveal a Team GB jersey.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">The final 60 miles back
to Palm Springs were gently uphill as we rose from sea level to about 500 feet. </span><span style="font-size: small;">Apart from the eye candy provided by the scenery which
covered everything from raw, bleak desert through rich and very green real
estate to snow capped mountains I had two moments of excitement. First, my
Garmin mount worked itself loose and fell off the handlebars. Fortunately the
safety cord saved the day otherwise I might have been facing an expensive
replacement. Having to then keep the Garmin in my jersey pocket was a bit
irritating, especially as I seemed to reset it each time I removed it to see
how far I’d gone. So my Strava record for the event suggests that I did four rides. </span><span style="font-size: small;">Rather more exciting though was my arrival in Palm Springs.
Approaching a junction I followed the signs and barriers round the left turn only
to realise that I had entered a live oncoming traffic lane. I’d forgotten that
they drive on the right here. The cacophony of shouts and whistles from the
marshals and spectators was impressive. I rather nonchalantly bunny hopped over
the central reservation into the right-hand lane, looked back over my shoulder
and waved to the crowd!</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the Bianchi stand at the Tour of California</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I returned to the UK in March and spent the next couple of
months reacquainting myself with the Norfolk and Suffolk lanes. It made a nice
change to be back on familiar roads. At the beginning of May it was time to
head back to Sacramento. Soon after my arrival I spent an interesting Sunday
morning watching the start of the Tour of California. Bianchi USA had a stand
in the event village, so I dropped in to say hello and discovered that they
knew about <i>Passione Celeste</i> – one of the team said he had read it. Maybe
he was just being polite!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3s9iv0_F4UwAdb3Gx88_0k_V96LT7-UQwjgDkv_k1Njl2FKXbhhZZFi0CgFV1bTsg_5H26a6KwLS124ulmKcnl9mlzH9AgqmnfpPPbyzizVooqdNe2SrlnwZelgYbRBgjQtKbYIYg54NV/s1600/Shelly-4449.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3s9iv0_F4UwAdb3Gx88_0k_V96LT7-UQwjgDkv_k1Njl2FKXbhhZZFi0CgFV1bTsg_5H26a6KwLS124ulmKcnl9mlzH9AgqmnfpPPbyzizVooqdNe2SrlnwZelgYbRBgjQtKbYIYg54NV/s320/Shelly-4449.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A beautiful ride!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">In early June I set off with my buddy Gene, who I often ride
with in Sacramento, to Lake Tahoe in the north-east corner of the state. Gene
had told me about a sportive which advertised itself as America’s Most
Beautiful Bike Ride, so I needed little persuasion to go. It certainly was a
great ride – about 70 miles with around 4,000 feet of climbing which doesn’t
sound too challenging does it? The main physical challenge was the altitude as
the start of the ride at 6.500 feet above sea level and the two main climbs
certainly had me gasping for air. I could see virtually the whole 70-mile route
from the start line as it went right around the lake. The scenery was spectacular –
heavily forested mountain slopes with snow-capped summits. This is skiing
country too; the 1960 Winter Olympics were held near here. Judging by the signs I
saw there was also some pretty exciting mountain bike riding available. This was
a great day out and I also got to ride in Nevada for the first time, so that’s
another state ticked off, even if I only shaved a corner. And as for the claim
of being America’s Most Beautiful Bike Ride. Well, it certainly was beautiful.
But MOST beautiful? More research is needed. A lot more!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweltering in the sun</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The following weekend I was back in Southern California for
L’Etape California. This was an event organised in close association with the
Tour de France and provides amateur riders with the full experience of a grand
tour stage. The route was centred on Mount Baldy and on paper looked pretty
challenging – 90 miles and 12,000 feet of climbing. The route included two first
category climbs and one HC (Hors Category or Beyond Category) climb. Always one
for a challenge this seemed like a must do! Or so I thought!
The ride itself was hard, very hard. But it was the heat that was the
main challenge. At the start the temperature was already into the low 30’s C
(mid 80’s F) and by mid-afternoon as I was ascending the penultimate climb it
had reached 40<sup><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman \(Body CS\)";">o</span></sup>C
(105<sup>o</sup>F). With no shelter I could feel myself frying in the sun. The
north-facing curves on the hairpins provided momentary relief from the direct
sun but the air still felt as if it had been superheated. This was reflected in
my heart rate. Normally on a strenuous ride my heart rate averages about
120-125 beats per minute. Today my average was 150 bpm with a peak of 172bpm.
And I could feel it. So much so that I turned back about ½ mile from the top of the
final climb as I decided that caution was the sensible way to go. The summit of Mount
Baldy will have to await another day. The final 10 miles were all downhill so I
was able to gain some much-needed recovery. So much so that I was even able to
muster a sprint to cross the finish line at nearly 30mph.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Going full gas through Cromer</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I ended the month of June with a ride back in England, in
Norfolk. Starting and finishing in Norwich, the course followed the route used
earlier in the day for the British Professional Road Race Championships.
Although most of the route was on open roads it was very enjoyable with
surprisingly large numbers of spectators as we sped through the various
villages along the way. Getting a cheer from the roadside does wonders for my
ego! One of the most enjoyable parts of the day was the section we rode along
the North Norfolk coast. I don’t ride up here very often but when I do I always
enjoy it. For about 20 miles the road meandered along, never more than a mile
from the sea. With a succession of small climbs and descents it provides a
pretty good workout without being unduly taxing. Our return into Norwich was
fantastic with the last section on closed roads with big crowds behind the
barriers lining the streets. A cold beer (zero alcohol) provided by the
organisers was just what was needed as I chatted to some of the other riders
that I finished with.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLlQ1WZ7puy-5t4HCQ76cevxzOFgOuytwWVuG6-_EmDR1MA4jSe71HOmIaqiH_9rQhTh-y_vjWXcHH-1XLmYtr-cPq9Zsw1e80_ejo4ioKUt9hdmcDQfGxvY7uFRNpbpLWijJl5u-abbOi/s1600/LEtape_UK_5156092.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1070" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLlQ1WZ7puy-5t4HCQ76cevxzOFgOuytwWVuG6-_EmDR1MA4jSe71HOmIaqiH_9rQhTh-y_vjWXcHH-1XLmYtr-cPq9Zsw1e80_ejo4ioKUt9hdmcDQfGxvY7uFRNpbpLWijJl5u-abbOi/s320/LEtape_UK_5156092.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nearing the top of Pink Hill</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Having ridden L’Etape California in June I unexpectedly had
an opportunity to ride the UK version in mid-July. It was a good chance to
compare the two events. The same Tour de France branding that was very visible
in California was here too. I wore my new L’Etape California jersey too which
generated quite a lot of interest from other riders, both in the starting pen
and during the ride. Apart from comparing the two events I was excited to be
riding in the Chilterns, west of London as this was where I lived as a teenager and where started riding seriously. We actually rode along part of the route that I
used to ride on my daily journey to school. So there was a lot of nostalgia for
me today. The Chilterns boast numerous short, sharp, steep climbs and is </span>where I
acquired my limited hill-climbing abilities. The profile for the course looked
like a saw blade with over 7,000 feet of climbing along the 100-mile route.
Although the climbs were short some were pretty steep, touching 30% in a couple
of places. I remembered the climb of Pink Hill well which was where my Dad
taught me to hill-start when I was learning to drive. I could almost smell a
burning clutch as I rode up it! And what of the two events? Well the California
one edged it by the thinnest of margins, a mere tyre width. The weather,
scenery and friendliness of the support crew and California Highway Patrol officers who
managed the car traffic were the plus points.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Three amigos - a reunion with Greg and Pete</td></tr>
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August saw me doing something I last did in 2015, a Land’s End to John O’Groats tour. This time I was the tour leader taking 18 other riders on the journey. They were a pretty diverse group both in terms of age and riding experience, but they bonded well as a team and I was very proud to see them all standing on the finish line in John O’Groats. It was fun listening to them talking about their experiences at the finish. It brought back so many memories of my own ride in 2015. You can read about my 2015 adventure elsewhere in this blog and also in my book, Passione Celeste. This year’s route was very similar to the 2015 one with a few minor differences including a climb through Cheddar Gorge which I hadn’t ridden before and, despite the best efforts of the rain, was spectacular. One of the riders on the Lejog was Greg who comes from Tulsa, Oklahoma and with whom I last rode with in 2018 on my tour across the USA was one of the team. It was great to catch up with him and reminisce about our experiences. I also arranged for Pete, my USA Tour ‘Brother’ join us on one of the stages in southern Scotland. This was a complete surprise for Greg and we rode together from Peebles to the outskirts of Edinburgh. The look on Greg’s face when he first saw Pete was quite something.<div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="font-size: small;">I also completed my longest ride of the year in August – 135
miles. This was a 100-mile sportive and I got the extra miles by riding from
home to the start and back at the end. The course took us round much of Suffolk
on roads that I am very familiar with. The actual route was not one I had
followed before so it was really enjoyable to see the scenery through someone
else’s eyes as it were. It was an unusually hot day too and made me think of
California which I yearned to return to.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">During September I had my longest spell this year off the
bike. This was because for a week I crossed over to the dark side and went hiking. This was a momentous occasion since in 2005, together with a college
friend, I set out to walk the 630-mile South West Coast Path from Minehead in
Somerset to South Haven Point in Dorset. We have walked most years in between,
usually taking a week in either May or September. Walking speed was definitely
not the objective. Quite the reverse. It has been much more about chilling out
in the countryside, admiring the spectacular coastal views and meeting an
amazing number of interesting and in some cases, eccentric people along the
way. We both enjoy a good curry so the other objective was to eat as many as we
could. At the final count, after 64 days walking we have consumed 45 curries! It
was a strange feeling when we finished and I felt quite disconcerted. Having
spent so many years pursuing our goal, finishing it left me feeling quite
empty. What next I wonder? Well, we have tentatively thought about continuing to walk eastwards along England’s south coast maybe as far as London. Nothing definite
is scheduled though.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">This year the UCI World Road Championships were held in
Yorkshire and the UCI had sanctioned a sportive which followed much of the road
race circuit so this was an event not to be missed. Towards the end of
September I drove up to Harrogate and rode the event. Leaving aside the wet
weather which prevailed throughout the week of the World Championships the
90-mile, 7,000-feet event was very well organised on what turned out to be a
challenging course.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKXegtopyh-47kdjoHPr99uY1mNt3XWWoTHrvliABNutLvQesBL39m22iFnkRtZ18wHT7vZ0vAl_TnsuARFEiWWxsB07MkpgVLIPqZblPKpiBZESrOs9QUS5p0kJ6dHN-bdj4YBcI2tg00/s1600/UCI_Road_World_Championships_Official_Sportive_5812959.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKXegtopyh-47kdjoHPr99uY1mNt3XWWoTHrvliABNutLvQesBL39m22iFnkRtZ18wHT7vZ0vAl_TnsuARFEiWWxsB07MkpgVLIPqZblPKpiBZESrOs9QUS5p0kJ6dHN-bdj4YBcI2tg00/s320/UCI_Road_World_Championships_Official_Sportive_5812959.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trying to look happy at the wet<br />
World Championships</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The first challenge came immediately after the first feed
station in Pateley Bridge. In his climber’s bible Simon Warren says this about
the climb of Greenhow Hill.<i> “Here the pain comes in bursts over four distinct
stretches of really tough climbing, with brief respite in between each. Attack
each hard section, get your breath back, spin the legs, then attack the next.”</i>
Well that pretty well sums it up – the pain and the breathlessness parts are
certainly accurate! As I rode up the first stretch I could see riders ahead of
me meandering back and forth across the road in a desperate attempt to maintain
their forward momentum. Nearing the top of this first stretch I was closing on
a rider in front of me who looked as if they might grind to a halt and fall off
at any moment. As I closed up I could see a man sitting on a bank above the
tarmac watching the struggling rider. Then in a thick Yorkshire accent he
commented: ”Aye lad, keep going. The toughest bit is yet to come.” Well that
did it for the hapless rider who unclipped and stopped, electing to walk for a
bit. I was more fortunate and was able to keep moving. Just. And yes, the rest
of the climb was at least as tough as the first stretch. But I made it in about
20 minutes. Simon Warren’s target time for the climb is 16 minutes so I was
quite pleased with my effort.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Part of the course was along roads that I had ridden in
August on my Lejog tour so it was nice to have a bit of inside knowledge about
what I was riding into. Nothing too strenuous as it turned out. Apart from the
climbing, the main challenge of the day was the rain. Lots of prolonged heavy
showers making the road surfaces very wet and muddy. Looking in the mirror when
I had a shower after the event I could see the outline of my riding glasses
which had shielded part of my face from the spray and dirt. And to think I paid
money to do this!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">At the end of September it was time to head back to
California and in mid-October Mary and we drove down to southern California for
the Tour D’Orange. This is an event which is organised by a friend of ours,
Robin, and raises money for charity. Robin had recruited us to help her with setting up and running the event. We spent the day before signing the
three courses which cater for family groups through to experienced longer
distance cyclists. The shortest route enables riders to visit many of the
historic sites and properties in the town with each being marked by a specially
numbered sign. This is the third year that Robin has run the event so she has a
complete mastery of the easiest way to set out the signs on the three
interlocking routes. I got quite confused about our geography as a consequence
and we didn’t finish laying out the routes until midnight when it was totally
dark.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A metric century celebration</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I was a ride marshal for the longest, 60-mile route. My role
meant that I had to be able to help any riders in difficulty and act as the
last rider on the road sweeping up any stragglers. It was quite a strange
feeling to ride around the course again, especially on the more rural section
which we had signed in the dark. I was surprised to find myself riding gently
uphill through a beautiful canyon which I had no idea existed when I was there
12 hours before. Towards the latter part of the event I joined up with two
other riders, Royce who had never ridden a metric century (100km) before
and John who was a more experienced rider. As we crossed the finish line we realised
that we were about 2 km short of the century so we did a few circuits around
the town centre to record the requisite mileage. The happiness on Royce’s face
and in his voice when he finally crossed the line and was reunited with his
family was a total delight. So ‘Chapeau’ Royce! It was great riding with you
and John.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I remained in Sacramento until just before Xmas, enjoying several
rides on the wonderful American River Trail with Gene. I also made a number of
forays into the wider countryside and I am starting to get a few new and longer
routes mapped which I hope to develop next year. By the end of the year I
managed to get just over 9,000 miles into my wheels which, by my recent
standards, represents a quiet year. When I was not riding, I was working on
another top-secret project, the results of which I hope to announce early in
2020.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">People often ask me what was the highlight of my riding
year? Well in 2019 it might have been the ascent of Mount Lemon. Or maybe it was one of the
L’Etapes. Or perhaps the Worlds. Well, if I was being totally true, the
highlight of my year was being able to ride wherever I was and whenever I
wanted to. Long may that continue… </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2310761408992994260.post-29907098062643462292019-01-29T21:04:00.000+00:002019-02-21T04:55:42.260+00:00<b>Mount Lemmon, Arizona – A Peach Of A Ride</b><br />
<br />
Hello Readers! I really must apologise for the break in service. It’s been six months since I last wrote to you and you’ve probably been thinking that I’ve fallen off the bike or worse. Well, nothing could be further from the truth. I’ve actually been very busy on several fronts including some superb riding. Following the end of the USA tour I returned to the UK and spent quite a bit of time reflecting on the experience and even more time trying to sort out and caption my photographs. I also wrote an article about the tour which, if you’re interested, <a href="https://drive.google.com/a/captaincentury.com/file/d/1vv3BWMsN24jW00oTv3e-VwIFxXBcQ_S6/view?usp=drivesdk" target="_blank">you can read here</a>.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYwDCuV-4USJ__xrxx5Zcu4J0k8Toc01u6ym1UB0XL34YGz6ZmXjxIeoPgUPhl7VetHFfDjF7TOZLoEiN1aaJsLkKK8JOYPdOsItBoGz8Qbz7X_IEJoaaHl2kp72Ifqy-edmSnFn7Jj1Hs/s1600/IMG_0887.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYwDCuV-4USJ__xrxx5Zcu4J0k8Toc01u6ym1UB0XL34YGz6ZmXjxIeoPgUPhl7VetHFfDjF7TOZLoEiN1aaJsLkKK8JOYPdOsItBoGz8Qbz7X_IEJoaaHl2kp72Ifqy-edmSnFn7Jj1Hs/s320/IMG_0887.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sacramento - on message!</td></tr>
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I said I’d been busy so, what have I been up to? Well in August I was back in the USA, in Sacramento in Northern California. While I was there I also headed down to Southern California to ride the Cool Breeze Sportive (100 miles) which was really cool. It was great to be able to experience an American event and compare it to those in the UK. I’ve also done quite a lot of riding around Sacramento which has a fabulous network of cycle trails – some of the best local riding I’ve experienced anywhere in the world. The opportunity to ride on traffic-free, paved routes through spectacular urban countryside is exhilarating. The American River Trail to Folsom is a total delight.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRsfKk3de9wHw5hg_B_4GCgAXEfbxawbJ1nRKPm67FHxyHsbOebdjApvbx9UbOkzDxttF-J-Z49ng364Z6xrYfp5vg3AvVXT3LsqADCEteMahk-iNg9OErs3KxdkA4SBk6y1VTZQg-lXB5/s1600/2018-1766.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRsfKk3de9wHw5hg_B_4GCgAXEfbxawbJ1nRKPm67FHxyHsbOebdjApvbx9UbOkzDxttF-J-Z49ng364Z6xrYfp5vg3AvVXT3LsqADCEteMahk-iNg9OErs3KxdkA4SBk6y1VTZQg-lXB5/s320/2018-1766.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Team Super 6 ready for the off ...</td></tr>
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In September, Team Super Six gathered together again and we rode a six-day tour in Italy, from Pisa on the west coast to Senigallia on the Adriatic. Our route took us eastwards through Tuscany before we headed south into Umbria eventually looping back northwards through the Marche region to the coast. This was the complete package with stunning scenery, lovely old hilltop towns and villages and great roads including some Tuscan white roads (Strade Bianche). The ‘domestics’ were great too – fabulous accommodation, including a night in a former royal palace, as well as the very best of traditional Italian cuisine, accompanied by superb local wines. The riding was excellent and it was huge fun riding with Team Super Six again. Although we only get together once a year, when we do meet it feels like we were together just the day before.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHRD4kFU4iycZrJkbzwoamRgru-7v0r9qO5kouxi1Lwf8yo5cAMdEBaZ24FS-F6rJc3_gFiA58GS6nWipB5auEcwSnq4cXvn3KRNo0aZCNb6voiyXZDurKx0PpvMCrECw3M19LoYRCJTRk/s1600/IMG_6034.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHRD4kFU4iycZrJkbzwoamRgru-7v0r9qO5kouxi1Lwf8yo5cAMdEBaZ24FS-F6rJc3_gFiA58GS6nWipB5auEcwSnq4cXvn3KRNo0aZCNb6voiyXZDurKx0PpvMCrECw3M19LoYRCJTRk/s320/IMG_6034.HEIC" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Captain Century rides the redwood!</td></tr>
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At the end of October I was back in Northern California to do, amongst other things, one of my bucket list rides – the Golden Gate Bridge. Unfortunately smoke from the horrific fires that hit California meant that riding opportunities were severely curtailed. We made up for this with a wonderful trip to the coast to see the giant redwood forests – a truly humbling experience. Riding through, literally a 1,500 year-old redwood tree, was a first for me. From my former career as a forester I have long wanted to see the ancient redwood forests so the opportunity to achieve this was not one to be passed up. By now some of you maybe wondering why I keep coming back to California. Well, let’s me just say that it’s not all about the bike! As I write this I’m on a short trip from Sacramento visiting friends in Scottsdale, Arizona. Which brings me to the reason why I’ve decided to start tapping the keyboard today.<br />
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A few months ago an article in Cyclist magazine (Issue 77), which I read voraciously, caught my eye. The article “Raising Arizona” by James Spender really captured my imagination and if you can readers, look it out. It’s well worth reading. I realised that Scottsdale where my friends lived, was only about 100 miles from Tucson. No distance at all in US driving terms as I’ve learned. So Mary and I set off early in the morning bound for Tucson and Mount Lemmon. A couple of hours later we were in a parking lot on the outskirts of Tucson. My Bianchi Infinito (Fausto), who now lives in Sacramento, was rearing to go and so was I. So with a couple of photos to commemorate ‘Le Depart’ I was underway. Mary had agreed to SAG the ride for me so I didn’t have to worry about hydration as she had plenty of spare water bottles in her car.<br />
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A long straight road, gently rising upwards, took us out of Tucson through scrubby desert. Ahead of me I could see the lower slopes of Mount Lemmon, defined by a long ridge of rock crossing in front of me and rising from the plains. With each turn of the pedals I drew closer and began to get an inkling of the scale of the challenge that lay ahead. Then as I rounded a right-hand hairpin the ‘proper’ climbing began. Ahead of me lay about 25 miles of riding with nearly 7,000 feet of climbing. Game on!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not even halfway up ...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Looking to my right I could see the valley floor that I had just ridden across. What surprised me was how many houses were tucked away amongst the desert scrub with the Saguaro Cactus trees poking through the undergrowth. Although I had never been here before this was a landscape that felt very familiar from watching episodes of The High Chaparral as a kid. I could almost see Big John Cannon, Buck and Blue galloping across the land with a cloud of dust trailing behind them. The landscape is harsh and I guessed that during the hot summer months this would be a brutal place to live.<br />
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As I made my way ever upwards the road twisted and turned through a series of sweeping curves with views back down to the road I had ridden along several minutes before. The succession of rocky ridges and shoulders meant that it was difficult to gauge my progress. Cresting each ridge revealed another ridge with hints of the road snaking upwards. My progress was marked by a succession of viewpoints and I struggled to balance the need to keep riding onwards and upwards with the temptation to stop and soak up the magnificent views. I think I managed to achieve the right balance. From time to time, Mary caught up with me so I was able to refill my water bottle. The importance of finding water to stay hydrated on the climb was something I had noted in James’s article so today, at least, that was less of a consideration for me.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nearly there!</td></tr>
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As I headed ever upwards I could feel my breathing was getting slightly more laboured and my heart rate was higher than usual. Reaching the road sign for 8,000 feet altitude explained this. I had passed the 4,000 feet sign about 90 minutes before so I had climbed 4,000 feet over about 25 miles. Despite the rarefied air I felt pretty good, although my legs certainly knew they had received a workout. The landscape too had changed dramatically. Gone was the scrubby dessert vegetation which had been replaced by pine trees with the heady smell of resin in the air. Gone too was the dessert sand as I was now surrounded by the remnants of some fairly large snow drifts. The other main change was a significant drop in temperature so I took off my lightweight short sleeved jersey and replaced it with my windproof Castelli Gabba jacket. Cycling readers will understand what I am referring to here. The rest of you – well take it from me that I was snug and ready for the last leg to Summerhaven with, according to James, the promise of an excellent cookie. Sure enough, the Cookie Cabin was easy to find and, better still, open. I opted for a 7” oatmeal and raisin number which, given the calories I had burnt on my ascent, I felt quite justified in chowing down.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Is it a lemon or a peach? No it's a giant cookie!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I was now ready for what I confidently anticipated was going to be the reward for my climbing effort. The return leg. The prospect of riding about 25 miles downhill on a smooth, largely traffic-free road with open sweeping curves had me drooling. And I was not disappointed! The descent was the best I have ever completed. I freewheeled most of the way down and my speed never dropped below 30 mph and I topped 40 mph at a few points. (Mary clocked me at 45 mph on her car speedo at one point so I’ll take that.) If I had known the road better and with higher gearing I reckon I could have been much, much quicker. My ascent took me about 2.5 hours (riding time). By contrast I was back in Tucson, complete with a lovely sunset, a mere 70 minutes after leaving Summerhaven.<br />
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What a ride! Definitely not a bitter lemon; more like a sweet peach! I can confidently say that it was up there with the best. Sitting in the car on our drive back to Phoenix I was buzzing and full of that warm glow that readers who ride will recognise after a great and demanding day in the saddle. I would love to do it again one day. But like JoJo in the Beatles song “Get Back” which James quoted in the introduction to his article, I’ll soon be leaving Arizona for California. And as for the why, you’ll just have to watch this space readers …<br />
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Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2310761408992994260.post-83256189736975228802018-07-25T20:59:00.002+01:002018-07-28T14:45:39.986+01:00I Just Want to Say ...... Some Reflections After the Event<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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It’s 5:15 in the morning and my alarm, a rather annoying
rooster that’s crowing, has just gone off. I roll over, fumble around in the
dark trying to locate my phone to silence the alarm. Gradually I open my eyes
and look around. For a few brief moments I am not entirely sure where I am. Then I realise that I am in the Hilton Garden Hotel in Burlington, Massachusetts,
and I will soon be setting out on Stage 43, the last stage of my USA tour. Forty-seven days ago, along with a group of other riders and a support team I left Los
Angeles to ride the 3,400 miles to Boston. Barring accidents today on what is effectively a short parade lap to the beach, I am on the threshold
of achieving Every Foot and Inch (EFI) status. By then I will have pedalled
every single mile between LA and Boston.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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After so many mornings like this, my start-up routine is well
tried and tested so I have a few minutes to spare and I’m using them to look
back over the tour and reflect on some of the places I visited, the people I
met and the rides I have experienced. This feels like a good time to try and
make some sense of what has certainly been both an exciting and also a challenging
ride. Riding a big tour like this has left me feeling cocooned from the outside
world. It’s a bit like being in a bubble which had been relentlessly rolling
forward eastwards, clocking up mile after mile. It’s been a strange sensation.
I am in and connected to the real world, yet in many ways I feel disconnected
from it. Almost like a spectator gazing down on a planet and its people.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2_lCQ5dBLxzf-hndTw2xA51dfUs_P3EZx4DGbbv9UivkH-sJs5sd5AZc4QA8cews2ayavrlDIaiXuMP_HizAoSwpOohtA8DnmaFtjzD_l8-9IRYddG7Ru_XlMcdD6pLUlEint5RUY13rI/s1600/P1010502.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2_lCQ5dBLxzf-hndTw2xA51dfUs_P3EZx4DGbbv9UivkH-sJs5sd5AZc4QA8cews2ayavrlDIaiXuMP_HizAoSwpOohtA8DnmaFtjzD_l8-9IRYddG7Ru_XlMcdD6pLUlEint5RUY13rI/s320/P1010502.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Desert heat</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I cast my mind back over the riding. Some of it was hard,
very hard indeed. The western deserts of California and Arizona with the
intense heat. More heat in the east with the addition of high humidity. Lots of
Interstate highway riding too, none of it particularly fulfilling yet, in the
absence of other roads, the only way to cover the ground in a reasonable span
of time. I recall how riding on the Interstates brought us together, a disparate
group of riders most of whom didn’t know each other at the start of the tour,
to form a team of mutually supportive friends. The memory of one particular
incident makes me smile.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Apart from the general unpleasantness of riding on the
shoulder of a busy interstate the major downside is punctures. The shoulders
are strewn with truck tyre debris from blowouts. Unfortunately, the debris includes
a mass of very tiny fine wires which get stuck in our tyres inevitably leading
to punctures. This becomes a very common occurrence. In one afternoon I had
more punctures than I had in all my rides over the last three years. I heard
that the groups’ puncture count for one day was over 40!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaVH9IRvDLHh_XMtaR5oWy7LNzkFSnS8JbG3t-Gh8X5MT9FZssN3gddODM2ShC69ntxmG6tcTRbGoVvqGwK0pdApKtxC_1K-lL8DSd_zDbahD6hhECGKikx3siXTT6K7UayMFD7J97cEa1/s1600/P1010729.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaVH9IRvDLHh_XMtaR5oWy7LNzkFSnS8JbG3t-Gh8X5MT9FZssN3gddODM2ShC69ntxmG6tcTRbGoVvqGwK0pdApKtxC_1K-lL8DSd_zDbahD6hhECGKikx3siXTT6K7UayMFD7J97cEa1/s320/P1010729.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Team building masterclass</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The memory that makes me smile is a photograph I took of one
of the team dealing with a puncture. That rider is surrounded by six others,
each of whom is helping their friend to get going again as quickly as possible.
The group is like a well drilled Formula One pit crew. Everyone has a part to
play and everyone is playing their part. This supportive ethos develops
organically and as we progress it becomes one of the tour's defining features.
Riders supporting each other – sometimes by actions, sometimes with a friendly
word of encouragement or a joke, or often with just a friendly look or a nod to
say: “I know where you’re at; I’m there with you.” Businesses often spend large
sums striving to achieve such a high level of teamwork. Fixing punctures in the
heat of a desert afternoon established a new benchmark for team working. By the
end of the tour I felt that the support amongst us, the riders, far surpassed
that provided by the tour company. There was a level of understanding and
empathy between us that I have rarely felt on other tours.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDJzyoha56uc-DQX-S4WXFsXODZyBWbVAM8ptx_QHN0EenOH-2zvS-BoxOOEbLMP4SSwrdQzWa5HyWh3dNt03U3FH8jcGVFSjHSx6Lg6N1dkoDSHRo4b6XrhqSoeFAUWPPifTNUem400Td/s1600/P1010629.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDJzyoha56uc-DQX-S4WXFsXODZyBWbVAM8ptx_QHN0EenOH-2zvS-BoxOOEbLMP4SSwrdQzWa5HyWh3dNt03U3FH8jcGVFSjHSx6Lg6N1dkoDSHRo4b6XrhqSoeFAUWPPifTNUem400Td/s320/P1010629.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Red Hills of Sedona</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The riding itself was certainly challenging and also very
rewarding. To take one example from many, the stage from Prescott to Flagstaff
was stunning. Truly stunning. Looking ahead of me as I rode along in the early
morning I could see a low-lying line of rock, probably over 10 miles distant.
As the sun rose and the rock line grew it transformed itself into a wall – the
Red Hills of Sedona with their wind‑eroded sandstone rocks forming wonderfully
abstract shapes, columns and pillars which towered over the surrounding land.
The wall gave few hints as to the route beyond until I arrived at the city of
Sedona. There a long deep canyon opened up and I followed it gently upwards for
several miles until I reached the head of the canyon. Then, with very little
warning I could see the road twisting up above me through a series of hairpin
bends to the summit pass. It was almost as if I had been given a ladder to make
my escape. The views from the top were breath-taking in every direction. Below
me I could see back along the road that I had spent the last hour riding on.
Ahead of me lay the remnant volcanoes that in the aftermath of a massive
eruption 200,000 years ago, had created today’s landscape and the setting for the
first rest day in Flagstaff below me. The smell of the Ponderosa Pine resin
added an almost intoxicating dimension to the scene. The raw splendour of this landscape
did as much to raise my heart rate as the climb itself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb8jGoHzSfKIdAdzMB2srym_-pnMka3o210joEQUDnfXkoHAoijs_WbEGr99hqq6PHWGfog8f4w9Rx-mnsTyAL0TPivbNY7siNc6uhni2LQoIZSbAkHJWi_FECXcWsgBmD8M5xaH3XZom7/s1600/P1010751.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb8jGoHzSfKIdAdzMB2srym_-pnMka3o210joEQUDnfXkoHAoijs_WbEGr99hqq6PHWGfog8f4w9Rx-mnsTyAL0TPivbNY7siNc6uhni2LQoIZSbAkHJWi_FECXcWsgBmD8M5xaH3XZom7/s320/P1010751.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The desert reclaims the land</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The harsh landscapes of the western deserts and mountains
contrasted markedly with the softer, more manicured and managed landscapes of
the east – in Ohio and New Hampshire for example. As I rode eastwards, and
especially along the old Route 66, I was struck by what I was seeing – a battle
between humans and nature. To the west, nature gave the appearance of having
the upper hand. Largely I guess because of a lower population density, a
harsher climate (lack of water) and an inevitably more extensive approach to
using the land. In some places I could see abandoned farms and homes literally
slowly dissolving back into the sand.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR0-X5njSkEw9PWhxxIpD8qmCY90ttquoISbIf0VzJpMGOiGZNZYPoaDRtSGf6ZcZcsPqBABXnduLCeb7xt1Nm1IBJXAeMk6exExuDI189d8dwUjG6xgO5aT8tL3eVsVhxsiV0Infy9_hL/s1600/P1010882.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR0-X5njSkEw9PWhxxIpD8qmCY90ttquoISbIf0VzJpMGOiGZNZYPoaDRtSGf6ZcZcsPqBABXnduLCeb7xt1Nm1IBJXAeMk6exExuDI189d8dwUjG6xgO5aT8tL3eVsVhxsiV0Infy9_hL/s320/P1010882.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting for the end</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Further east humans seemed to be on the front foot. More
intensive farming, irrigation, a greater population density and more
infrastructure. There was much more greenery in the fields, hedgerows, woods and
forests. This was softer countryside, almost seeming manicured in Ohio though
New York state had a greater and more pleasing 'couldn't care less' look. Managed
certainly, but with an element of randomness which made the riding much more
stimulating. In between were the extensive cattle lands of Texas which we cut
across briefly. The sight of forlorn cattle standing in pens waiting their fate
was haunting. It was as if I had stumbled across a bovine concentration camp.
But as one of my riding colleagues observed, many of us enjoyed steaks for
dinner that evening.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We enjoyed incredibly good weather. By my count we had had about two and a half days rain. I had only needed my rain jacket
on two stages. The winds mostly blew in our favour too. Tailwinds enabled us to roll along
at a good pace and on one stage I set a personal best for 10 miles (22 minutes,
equivalent to about 27 mph). Only on one day did we have to ride into strong
headwinds and on a couple of others we had to contend with strongly gusting
sidewinds. Had we been facing headwinds this tour would have been so very
different.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBQL10LMfzmj8a5LfmLrs7jW2Dt_pAShwSGAkqf3s6l562PLuSn_ShwxHCD2tSlymnTJ__RhtOmBdaUc3l_oukidMvdgiMe6Res9av6pgJmv-T0CdIhsawHQhuwyrjOHynsBmdZ32CgPeq/s1600/IMG_7660.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBQL10LMfzmj8a5LfmLrs7jW2Dt_pAShwSGAkqf3s6l562PLuSn_ShwxHCD2tSlymnTJ__RhtOmBdaUc3l_oukidMvdgiMe6Res9av6pgJmv-T0CdIhsawHQhuwyrjOHynsBmdZ32CgPeq/s320/IMG_7660.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maize as far as the eye can see</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The sheer scale of America was a revelation. I always knew I
would be in a big country, but I never understood just how big. Individual
states here are bigger than the whole of the UK. That, for me, added a totally
new dimension to the riding. Riding in the desert was a humbling experience
which as I passed through it, a tiny speck on a massive canvas, made me feel
quite humble. The same was true when we rode through the maize and soy fields of
Indiana and Illinois. The crops stretched away to the horizon uninterrupted for
miles in every direction. The flat land with few opportunities to get higher up
made it very difficult to gauge the scale of what I was passing through. I felt
like I was afloat in a small dinghy on the ocean.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigeAqU6NCREFp_WE2YwCyVtNZRyUdWkCO3QVT5mTRE1lcb576vtPIzKwxLmOC6MeLjxiSIqXFbFpU9EfZWZ-ky88ixRu2L-aOM5Ss1ikoJHVw56uy1qha09lppnyk7Lh6lyfEuhZk1W6Lj/s1600/P1010719.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigeAqU6NCREFp_WE2YwCyVtNZRyUdWkCO3QVT5mTRE1lcb576vtPIzKwxLmOC6MeLjxiSIqXFbFpU9EfZWZ-ky88ixRu2L-aOM5Ss1ikoJHVw56uy1qha09lppnyk7Lh6lyfEuhZk1W6Lj/s320/P1010719.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How far!?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The long straight roads became quite a mental challenge. To
pass the time I sometimes played what called the Garmin game. Pick out an
object the horizon, like a water tower and guess how far away it is. Then I
looked at my present mileage and tried to avoid looking at the Garmin again
until I reached the object. I regularly underestimated the distances – often by
several miles. So, in addition to the physical challenges, the mental
challenges were also quite a factor.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
With a few notable exceptions I was unprepared for positive
and welcoming reception I received from the people I met along the way. I have
always found American people to mostly be very polite: “You’re welcome” and “Have
a nice day”. In many cases these responses seem, in my experience to be
automatic and somewhat robotic. What surprised me on the tour was the sincerity
and interest that I encountered with the people I met. If you are ever looking
for a tactic to break the ice with strangers I can wholeheartedly recommend the
sweaty lycra approach! It worked for me – every time. Here’s how it goes. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJyutn9pOOCxY_FL4u0uCJBirImW5ytfOqINKmMiIj6xXHyZ7jS-nftPbFpILL82WlVhowXZM-0g8Wsg6gFfwecz6w_x9EvMHFMFq76hVnZdjVI61Ej-cYR2a_kEk1m_MXFEr1aFl0KpZV/s1600/IMG_7597.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJyutn9pOOCxY_FL4u0uCJBirImW5ytfOqINKmMiIj6xXHyZ7jS-nftPbFpILL82WlVhowXZM-0g8Wsg6gFfwecz6w_x9EvMHFMFq76hVnZdjVI61Ej-cYR2a_kEk1m_MXFEr1aFl0KpZV/s320/IMG_7597.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lycra - an ice breaker!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Arriving at a store or a gas station I would find somewhere
to prop up my bike. Then after removing my helmet, skully and mitts and giving
my face a quick wipe with a flannel that I always carry in my back pocket I
would enter the establishment concerned and have a quick look around. Where were the cold drinks – chocolate milk was always welcome (for the
protein)? Where was the restroom and was it locked? Did I need to ask for a
key? Were there other people in the store? By this time my ‘arrival’ had
usually been noticed by anyone in the store and I was being given the once
over. And not always discretely either. Pretty soon thereafter I would usually be
engrossed in a conversation. Mostly about me, where I had come from and where I
was going (more of that later). But I also found people were very happy to answer
my questions. And I ask a lot of questions! It would be easy and very tempting
to stay and chat for a good while but always conscious of the need to make
progress I rarely had the time to spend more than a few minutes with my new
‘best friends’. Wherever possible I made a point of plugging my blog and I can
see from the stats that I picked up quite a few followers this way. So, if
anyone who joined the virtual tour is reading this post then I would just like
to say: “Thank you for your interest, information and support. It really did
enrich my rides.” Even casual roadside encounters, for example when I was
snagging a photo, passing drivers, especially in the countryside, would often
stop to check that I was okay. That inevitably led to a conversation. Oh, the
kindness of strangers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYScTf4TochRMuPw-TJT6726qxvpgmKZHM0tnO73EkaX6dnEBcQmmK1QxWwX8GvEUcpP6kDZfoKHrvAPdkSkM9E0TGtp433U2eAP9BkoWQyzGps21vR1Vf6fBWcdfkTrTxOoPTZ0T1E9is/s1600/IMG_6927.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYScTf4TochRMuPw-TJT6726qxvpgmKZHM0tnO73EkaX6dnEBcQmmK1QxWwX8GvEUcpP6kDZfoKHrvAPdkSkM9E0TGtp433U2eAP9BkoWQyzGps21vR1Vf6fBWcdfkTrTxOoPTZ0T1E9is/s320/IMG_6927.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scrambled eggs - again!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
One of the things I found tough was the constant succession
of one-night stays. I rarely managed to properly unpack and lived out of my two
kitbags for the duration of the tour. Over the seven weeks of the tour this
became quite wearisome. I longed to spend more than two nights in the same bed
and had to wait until the end of the tour to achieve this. The constant
succession of Hiltons, Holiday Inns, Best Westerns and so on, all built to the
same formula were largely functional, as they needed to be. Their food
offerings, particularly at breakfast, were very much a case of providing fuel
rather than anything more exciting. I have now eaten enough powered scrambled
egg to last the rest of my lifetime! This was never intended to be a
gastronomic tour so there were good reasons for what was laid on. Nevertheless,
I grabbed the few opportunities to ‘eat out’ with gusto and jumped at the chance to eat some ‘proper food. Food that specifically cooked to order.
I vividly recall a lovely dinner with Mary, one of the tour crew and a good
friend, in a small restaurant in Wooster, Ohio following another appalling
whitewashing incident (see below).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<br />
<br />
The location of the hotels, on the outskirts of the towns
and cities we overnighted in, meant that we rarely got an opportunity to explore
and learn more about where we were staying. The rest days by contrast were
wonderful and I had memorable times in Santa Fe, Abilene, Champaign and Erie.
Eagle-eyed readers will have spotted that I haven’t mentioned Flagstaff. Well,
I didn’t spend my rest day there. Instead I went to have a good look at the
Grand Canyon. And it looked pretty good too.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEcskrq4WvOBxA29mVH9YgeZNsbvutfDKMOOkq90VfKqex7BhyphenhyphenNwWYWBetrBZjoze8uXyWH3kcUr9se479GglWtDJrozKCBXKpEndJcKZcdm_K9fI8xF8XthkJOdbSjtkmiqN9UvzrIkF8/s1600/P1010713.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEcskrq4WvOBxA29mVH9YgeZNsbvutfDKMOOkq90VfKqex7BhyphenhyphenNwWYWBetrBZjoze8uXyWH3kcUr9se479GglWtDJrozKCBXKpEndJcKZcdm_K9fI8xF8XthkJOdbSjtkmiqN9UvzrIkF8/s320/P1010713.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robin and Mary - gone yet never forgotten</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Underpinning the tour was a support system to ensure that we
could focus on our riding as much as possible. One of the big factors in
choosing to do the tour with CrossRoads Cycling was their promise of good back
up. Although this appeared to be the case at the start and there were eight
people listed on the contacts sheet, things degenerated as the tour progressed
leading one rider to describe us as participants in a failing experiment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the support crew, who I never met,
‘disappeared’ in the first few days. To lose one crew member over seven weeks
is perhaps understandable. To lose several suggests that something more
fundamental is wrong. Bizarrely, the tour crew seemed to be airbrushed out of
our script by the tour company owners, never to be seen or spoken of by them again.
Even more strangely since my riding friends had nothing but praise for the ‘lost’
crew members and their empathy with us. What this did mean was that as the tour
progressed eastwards the level of support dropped significantly and in my view
below safe levels in some cases. Even during early stages of the tour, the
support organization was patchy. On a long hot day in the Arizona desert we
arrived with virtually no water at the aptly named settlement of Hope to find
that the expected gas station was closed for the afternoon and there was no
sign of any support vehicles. We were saved by a passing RV driver who seemed
to have a limitless supply of bottled water and was more than happy to share it
with us. Refusing any and all offers of recompense his wife said that they
would get their reward in heaven! Without them it would have been a choice
between abandoning and losing my EFI or riding on and risking heatstroke. Once
again, I experienced the kindness of strangers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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As the tour progressed I found that one day blurred into the
next. So much so that I had difficulty sometimes remembering my geography.
Arriving one afternoon at a gas station in New Berlin I got chatting to Bridget,
who ran the store. When she asked where I had come from I
paused and then said: “I’ve forgotten”. Bridget then asked me where I was
heading to. Another pause and then: “I can’t remember”. By now the two ladies
were looking at me as if I was an idiot. Suddenly in a flash of inspiration I
blurted out: “I’ve come from Los Angeles and I’m going to Boston!” Well I don’t
have the words to describe the looks on their faces. But whatever, they were
happy to have their photograph taken with me. I emailed one to Bridget later
that evening and she replied a couple of days later wishing me well and
thanking me for the picture. From then I always tried to ensure I knew my
locations before going into any more stores!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rollers!</td></tr>
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Leaving aside the interstate riding, most of the stages were
on good well-surfaced roads with not too much traffic. This meant that I was
able to take in a lot of the scenery that I passed through. Most of the stages
had their own rewards too. The stage from Chillicothe to Kirksville in Missouri
with the 148 rollers was outstanding. Very hard and very hot but also very
rewarding. Reaching the top of each crest and looking down before descending to
start the next steep ascent was very satisfying. It got quite exciting seeing
how fast I could go downhill and then how far up the next rise my momentum
would carry me. The stage from Abilene to Topeka in Kansas that I rode with
Robin one of the tour crew, who was inexplicably airbrushed out of the tour the
very next day, was pure pleasure – just a perfect day in the saddle. One of the
high points of the tour too.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Celeste Victoria ('CV')<br />
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">my partner in this grand adventure</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My bike, who I have nicknamed ‘CV’ was outstanding. As
readers who are familiar with my writings will know, all of my Bianchi’s have
personalities and names. I spend a lot of time in their company and we have a
unique relationship. I won’t try to explain that here – if you want to know
more then read my book, Passione Celeste. Suffice to say that I regard them as
my second family. CV rose to the challenge of the tour magnificently and
despite having to cope with some punishing conditions she coped admirably.
There was only one issue with the hydraulic brakes which was more of a design
fault than a performance issue. She has been a great companion for me. Our
one-to-one conversations in our hotel room immediately before the start of each
stage, provided great comfort and helped us to clear our minds to be ready for
whatever lay ahead.<o:p></o:p></div>
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What really made this tour special were the people I met,
especially my fellow riders and the tour support team. Our team of riders was a
very diverse group covering a wide age range from mid-twenties to mid-seventies
with a great range of experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Whatever our individual motivations for taking part in the tour, we all
shared the delights and the sense of freedom that cycling enabled us to have.
Within a very short time it seemed as if we were one large extended family who
had gathered together for a reunion. As one of three overseas riders on the
tour I was touched by the way my American counterparts welcomed me into their
fold and the information and explanations they willingly shared with me over
the seven weeks of the tour. Everything from information about the places we
passed through and their history to unveiling the mysteries of some of the food
we consumed. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Although over the first few days we naturally formed into
smaller groups there was no sense of being better than some or not as good as
others. I really enjoyed the times when we were all together – at SAGs or
dinners when there were opportunities to chat over the past day’s ride and look
forward to the next day. All carried out with lots of good hearted banter and
ribbing. The levels of chatter and laughter at these times were the best
measure of our enjoyment. And on the few occasions when we were a bit subdued I
did a little dance to raise the spirits. It never failed me. Well I don’t think
it did!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My new family - the class of 2018</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I have made a lot of friendships that I hope will endure,
even if only virtually over the social media in some cases. Pete and I, the two
UK members, met and rode together before the tour started and virtually every
day thereafter. By the end of the tour he felt almost like a brother. And there
is one very special friendship which has defied all the odds, including
airbrushing, and which I am particularly excited about for the future. Good
rides need good routes. Great rides need great people. It would be an honour
and a privilege to ride with any of these people again. But only with a
different organisation.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My goodness is that the time! Enough of this reminiscing.
I’d better hurry up and get downstairs. I have an appointment at Revere Beach, Boston. EFI is
within my grasp…<o:p></o:p><br />
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If you'd like to hear a bit more about my tour recollections you can listen to an interview I did for BBC Radio Suffolk by <a href="https://drive.google.com/file/d/1j4pFmVdWjOh2jNM3EQqAHvN8rDQJnga-/view?usp=sharing" target="_blank">clicking here</a>.</div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2310761408992994260.post-67218903602073383452018-06-29T20:00:00.000+01:002018-07-02T22:57:00.746+01:00USA Tour Stage 43: Burlington to Revere Beach, Ma (17 Miles)<a href="https://www.relive.cc/view/1669565963" target="_blank">Click here</a> for route flyby<br />
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Before starting today’s stage some long overdue and important business had to be concluded. Back on the 2nd of June I won a bet with Bruce by not telling the story of Pawnee Rock. So today Bruce paid his dues and I got my £1 and €1. Cathy (aka Person Number Three) acted as the official witness.Well actually I got £2 which is okay Bruce as we’re apparently leaving the EU so the €1 would probably not be much use to me. Now readers, you might still be wondering what’s the story of Pawnee Rock. Well as I’ve trousered my winnings I’m now going to tell you.<br />
<br />
Pawnee Rock is a famous landmark on the historic Santa Fe trail. Strategically it was an important viewpoint where Indian tribes used it to pinpoint approaching buffalo herds and wagon trains. For some it was regarded as the most dangerous place on the Santa Fe trail. For others it was a waypoint denoting that about half of the journey westwards was complete. Over the years many of the people passing by carved their names into the soft rock. Sadly by the 1870s much of the rock had been removed to be used as building stone. Since 1970 it has been officially protected and listed in the National Register of Historic Places. So there you are. That’s what I didn’t tell you about before in order to win the bet!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Euros stand together one last time</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Today’s stage was effectively a parade lap to the beach. Just a few short miles to mark the crossing of a continent. Just as we did on the first day of the tour in El Segundo, we gathered in front of the hotel in Burlington and set off in groups of three. Pete, Emil and I, previously part of The Fabs and now the Euros, lined up alongside each other and then off we went. With such a lot that has happened I was feeling very emotional. The euphoria of actually completing the ride – 3,417 Miles and achieving EFI Status (Every Foot and Inch). A realisation that I would almost certainly never ride with this whole group of wonderful people again but a hope that some of us may cross paths again one day. And some sadness too that it was not possible for someone who has become very close to me to be there as I crossed the finishing line.<br />
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We rode south east from Burlington gradually crossing Boston’s suburbs before we all gathered together again to form up for the final procession to Revere Beach. We were formed into a line in pairs and I was pleased and proud to be standing next to Pete. We both recalled our first ever ride together, to the Hollywood Hills, before the tour started. We have travelled so much ground together since, both on the tarmac and off it, and we have become good friends. I look forward to the day we rode together again – how about something around the Trossachs or the Borders, Pete?<br />
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Taking advantage of the brief halt, I asked Pete to hold my bike and went to the front of the line and worked my way back saying ‘goodbye’ to each of the riders individually. People, kindred spirits that I have ridden with and got to know well and others who I now wished I knew a bit better. Such is life on a Tour. From every one of my fellow riders I have drawn tremendous inspiration. Each of us, experienced cyclists or not, have shared a unique experience and overcome so many obstacles and challenges that threatened our achievements. I will treasure those memories forever. A good route makes a good ride or tour. And great tours are made by great people. This has been one of the greatest tour teams I have ever ridden with.<br />
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We were led in convoy, with a police escort, along the final four miles to Revere Beach. We must have looked a splendid sight as so many passers by stopped to gaze at us.We even received some cheers from the sidewalk and several car horn toots. Then suddenly we turned the last corner and in front of us was the Atlantic Ocean, journey’s end. The seafront was lined with people, families and friends who had come to cheer and congratulate their riders. There was quite a party atmosphere. Then everyone gathered round as we dipped our wheels in the ocean and posed for a last group photograph.<br />
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I have a lot of memories from the tour and it is going to take me a long time to process and understand them. I need to organise my photographs and other records as one of the downsides of a long tour like this is that places and events blur into each other. So when, in a few days or weeks time I have made sense of all this I plan to write one final reflection on the tour. Watch this space …<br />
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I had one final act to perform. As we left Manhattan Beach on 13 May I picked up a small peddle from the shore. It has been in the back pocket of my jersey every day since. It has been a constant companion for me and CV throughout the tour. Each morning it has sat in front of us at our one-to-one meetings in our hotel room as a daily focus for collecting our thoughts and getting ready to ride. I spent a couple of minutes on the beach silently reflecting on what has happened to us, me and CV, over the last seven weeks and then hurled the pebble as far as I could into into the Atlantic Ocean. We were both happy to see it fly and sad to let it go. We have travelled a long way together. We have travelled 3,417 miles!<br />
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Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2310761408992994260.post-49704009111651550042018-06-28T20:00:00.000+01:002018-07-01T14:39:37.652+01:00USA Tour Stage 42: Brattleboro, VT to Burlington, MA (100 Miles)<a href="https://www.relive.cc/view/1668394046" target="_blank">Click here</a> for route flyby<br />
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Today’s stage was the last full stage of the tour. Tomorrow is effectively a parade to the finish line. A bit like the Tour de France where the last stage is usually a ceremonial one and not a racing stage. So we all lined up together for the penultimate departure. I say “all” but not quite. Once again the Euros were depleted as Pete had snuck back to the early group. (Was it something we said?) So Barry, Bruce, Cathy (aka Person Number Three), Emil and I, plus Peyton (the new kid/mechanical genius/bike fixer extraordinaire) were the last to leave Brattleboro.<br />
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I should probably explain that Peyton (the kid) was recruited in Champaign (IL) to provide some extra mechanical support. He was working in a bike store there and seems to have keen kidnapped, willingly I understand, to provide some extra support for the tour. Bruce and Cathy (aka Person Number Three) have taken him under their wing and are rounding him out as we progress. Being young he has limitless reserves of energy and his antics on the bike are a constant source of amusement to us. But when all is said and done, his mechanical skills are outstanding.<br />
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We rolled down the hill back into Brattleboro’ and crossed over the Connecticut River before reaching the New Hampshire State line – State Number 13 so far. Then it was up into the hills again with some quite testing climbs. Short and sharp but nothing too severe. For a lot of us, the euphoria of nearly reaching the end seems to have added some impetus and strengthened our resolve.<br />
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Much of the route was through forested areas, mixtures of conifers and deciduous trees with lots of delightful small villages in between. Unfortunately the road surfaces were quite sketchy which meant that I really had to concentrate on the tarmac in front of me. This is not the time for a wheel buckling pothole incident – or worse. I have however made a mental note that this is an area that would be worth revisiting should the opportunity arise. In fact I would quite like to do a tour across New England. Now there’s a thought…<br />
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As we progressed eastwards the roads gradually got busier and we received a few suggestions from lippy motorists who clearly didn’t appreciate sharing ‘their’ tarmac with us. Added to the sketchy surfaces it meant we had concentrate even more. This was one of the few occasions where I felt that I actually needed my rear view mirror. Thus far it has largely been a convenience. Not having to look back over my shoulder this morning meant that I could stay fully focussed on the road in front of me.<br />
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All of a sudden up popped the Massachusetts State Line. So suddenly that we almost missed it and had to turn around to get the photo for the collection. So that’s it, the last state of the tour, number 14. Quite a landmark really. Unlike 12 of the other states we have passed through, Massachusetts is actually a commonwealth. But the distinction is a subtle one with its roots in history. In the late 18th century constitutional writers sometimes used the word ‘commonwealth’ in the legal documents that created the which established a state. Around this time the term was used to describe groups of people who maxed up a nation or state. Commonwealths are states but states are not commonwealths. John Adams, the second President of the US when drafting the Massachusetts constitution. And for the record, the other commonwealth that we rode through was Pennsylvania.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another century completed</td></tr>
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As we approached Burlington, Bruce came alongside me and asked if I would be interested in doing a few extra miles at the end to turn today’s stage into a century ride. Well, it didn’t take much asking – another century. The Captain wouldn’t miss out on that. So that’s exactly what we did. We arrived at the stage finish and then turned around and did another seven miles to take us over the hundred. What a great way to mark the end of the tour!<br />
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Oh by the way I’ve forgotten to mention something. It rained all day. High fat drops of the stuff which glistened the roads and created some massive puddles. But who cares, it’s only water!<br />
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<br />Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2310761408992994260.post-21413266417092810242018-06-27T20:00:00.000+01:002018-06-28T00:20:50.674+01:00USA Tour Stage 41: Albany to Brattleboro, VT (77 Miles)<a href="https://www.relive.cc/view/1666356462" target="_blank">Click here</a> for route flyby<br />
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After several stages of comparatively flat riding I was looking forward to today’s stage which promised some proper hill climbing. At 34 miles the route notes commented: “Begin 6.3 mile climb; last 3.5 steeper.” So I was quite excited at the prospect, as was the CV.<br />
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Our morning route RAPs have become quite comical. Headteacher Paula is struggling to manage the class as end of term fever is setting in. Let me give you an example. As we were about to receive the day’s briefing we (BBCX and the Euros) were looking at a video of a previous night’s antics. In a nutshell we had set off to the nearest Walmart in search of some of Ben and Jerry’s finest. One of the BBC’s, Bruce, has been having some knee issues so to help him out we stuck him in a shopping cart and rolled him across the very large car park. As you can imagine, this caused much mirth and merriment. Anyway when we arrived at the store we discovered that the cupboard was bare – no Ben and Jerry’s. Zippo! Quick as flash Cathy (aka Person Number Three) pounced on an unsuspecting Walmart person demanding to know the whereabouts of our ice cream. Well, to cut to the chase, said Walmart person disappeared out back and reappeared with a shopping cart full of every variety known to the human race and, I suspect a few that were not. Result – we able to make our choice and order was restored. Getting back to the point, our attempt to relive and celebrate the experience was received with some scepticism by the Headteacher who, I am sure, would rather have delivered her briefing and got shot of us onto the road. And let me add, no shopping carts were injured in the course of this merriment.<br />
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We left Albany and crossed over Hudson River before immediately heading upwards. Each day two groups set off 30 minutes apart. This helps manage the flow of riders through SAGs and helps with other logistical aspects of each stage. Today however the early group arrived at an impassible road closure, a bridge that was being repaired, and had to double back. Consequently they then met the later group (us) coming up the road so we were now all riding as one. With the prospect of being the leader on the road for once, I wound it up and set off on a little break of my own.<br />
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Capitalising on my lead I opted for a short pause at the SAG before continuing on the day’s climb. At the start of the climb I crossed the state line into Vermont (state number 13; just one - Massachusetts left now). I’ve been told that Vermont is an exceptionally pretty state so I was looking forward to seeing it. (For the record what I have seen is delightful.) Once over the state line the climb began. Let me just say that it was a real delight. Longish, gentle gradients (always less than 10%), a broad smooth shoulder to ride on and superb views to the densely forested hills I was riding through. So I got settled in, dropped onto the granny ring and spun my way upwards, tapping out a nice easy rhythm. What a pleasure, what bliss. Especially as it wasn’t too hot either. As I climbed steadily upwards I found myself thinking just how lucky and happy I am now. Today was one of those special riding days when my head and my heart were soaring free.<br />
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Cresting the summit of the Green Mountain I then enjoyed a long, fast descent which seemed to go on for ever. Some roadworks meant that I had to check my speed a couple of times so I didn’t get above 40mph. Without the roadworks I am sure I could easily have topped 50 mph. But this wasn’t the end. Another lesser climb, Hogback Mountain was waiting as a sort of encore for the day. The long descent was pretty good too, marred only by the rough surface which meant I had to pay close attention and pick my lines carefully. I was pleased also that I have left behind any lingering fears from the blowout incident.<br />
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Eventually I arrived at Brattleboro which I had been told was a delightful place and I wasn’t disappointed. I even managed to find the bike shop to buy a new rear flashing light as my old one seems to have packed up. I spent a very pleasant quarter of an hour chatting to one of the owners, Barbara Walsh about the tour and cycling in Vermont. What she shared with me has left me feeling that I must come back and spend more time here. Indeed I already have the germ of an idea developing so who knows.<br />
<br />Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2310761408992994260.post-28833992346357189552018-06-25T19:30:00.001+01:002018-06-28T00:05:20.964+01:00USA Tour Stage 40: Herkimer to Albany, NY (79 Miles)<a href="https://www.relive.cc/view/1664215980" target="_blank">Click here</a> for route flyby<br />
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Late yesterday I received some very sad news that a friend of mine, Tim Elliot died while out riding his bike. Although we had never met face to face I count Tim as a friend. Tim was the central figure, the bottom bracket, that drove the Bianchi Owners Club USA forward. I contacted him earlier this year when I was preparing for my USA tour. From our very first exchange Tim was both extraordinarily helpful and very friendly to me. He was a source of great advice and good humour. But more than that, once I had started the tour Tim frequently sent me messages of support and encouragement which I really appreciated.<br />
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Regular readers will know that I regard fellow Bianchi riders as my extended family and I am proud that I have cousins and uncles all over the world. Whenever we meet (in the UK) our reunions are fantastic occasions. The cousins chat to each other and there is a lot of Passione Celeste around. Judging from the outpouring of comments and memories about Tim that I have seen my US cousins share over the last 24 hours, it is beyond any doubt that Passione Celeste, what I describe as the very DNA of Bianchi, is widespread and heartfelt. So today, I dedicated my ride to my Uncle Tim. And Tim, if you are reading this from afar, I hope you enjoyed the ride too.<br />
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Leaving Herkimer this morning there was a distinct chill in the air. So much so that for the first time since we left Los Angeles I was wearing my arm warmers. With a blue sky and sunshine I suspected that it wouldn’t be long before they came off and I wasn’t wrong. Once again the route followed the Erie Canal and Mohawk River from start to finish. With yet more superb scenery and relatively quiet, smooth roads, the ride was a delight. Like yesterday, much of the ride was under dense tree cover but from time to time clearings and pockets of open farmland created spectacular views across the lush, green land.<br />
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With a relatively short distance to cover we were able to ride at a leisurely pace, stopping regularly to look at the views and take some photos. The European theme was still present, especially when we reached Amsterdam. First settled by Dutch immigrants in 1710, the area was called Veedersburgh after Albert Veeder an early mill owner. With an influx of settlers from New England the town’s name was changed to Amsterdam in 1803. The arrival of the Erie Canal in 1825 created a major economic boost for the town which became well known for the carpets manufactured here. The city was badly damaged by floods caused by Hurricane Irene in 2011. As I rode by today it seemed that the damage had largely been restored.<br />
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Before we set off Pete had mentioned that we would be passing through Scotia. I am not sure quite what he expected to find; he did express a hope for haggis, neeps and tattles but I suspected he was going to be disappointed (I was proved right). But in terms of distance and timing it was an ideal spot to stop and enjoy lunch and cold glass of beer. And enjoy it we did as we sat on the terrace of a bar/grill and watched people pass by on their daily routines. Scotia was established by Alexander Lindsay Glen who named it after Scotland, his home country. Historically its main claim to fame was for broom making. In the 1800’s over 1 million brooms were produced annually – that’s a lot of sweeping! Nowadays it is principally a residential base for people who work in the surrounding area.<br />
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We rode the final 15 miles to Albany, the New York State Capital along some lovely, gently undulating if rather rough roads. As we made our way along I found myself wondering what Uncle Tim would have made of today’s stage. I rather think he would have liked it. So Tim, rest easy and ride easy. Passione Celeste!<br />
<br />Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2310761408992994260.post-21831534997576776322018-06-25T19:30:00.000+01:002018-06-27T03:32:45.523+01:00USA Tour Stage 39: Syracuse to Herkimer, NY (72 Miles)<a href="https://www.relive.cc/view/1662025291" target="_blank">Click here</a> for route flyby.<br />
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Today BBC and the Euros reformed. Pete, who has been ‘resting’ by setting off with the earlier group (they’re not slower, honestly), applied for re-instatement. So we held a short meeting on the start line and voted (4-1; Bruce how could you!) to let him re-join us. I have to say that I have been missing both his company and his Scottish wit on the road these past few days. Since our first ride to the Hollywood Hills before the tour, started we have travelled a long road together and got to know each other really well. As the only two Brits on the tour we have formed an alliance and have spent a lot of time together – on and off the road. So I was delighted to spend a large part of today riding alongside him and enjoying his company.<br />
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Today was much like yesterday, only better. More of the delightful upstate New York countryside on smooth, largely traffic free county roads. To make the ride even better, the sun was shining and my rain jacket was firmly packed away. Our route has been following the Erie Canal which runs from Buffalo on Lake Erie to Albany on the Hudson River. When construction was completed in 1825 it was the second longest canal (363 miles) in the world. Today it extends for 524 miles. It has played a major role in the commercial activities and economy of the USA. Although a small number of commercial vessels still use it, now it is primarily a recreational resource and has been designated as. National Heritage Corridor. Many of the towpaths running alongside it have been converted in to cycle routes, mostly gravel so we have to stay off them. The great thing about following a canal is that it means gradients are likely to be pretty gentle, which at this stage of the tour is no bad thing.<br />
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As we rode along on the first part of the stage to the SAG I spent a lot of time looking at and trying to understand the countryside we were passing through. There are lots of trees, woods and forests which gave it a very enclosed feeling. From time to time, where the tree cover had been removed, great sweeping views opened up particularly northwards where I could see rolling hills in the distance. The houses here are a constant source of fascination for me. They come in all shapes and sizes and are mostly constructed from wooden boards. No two houses are the same; each has its own distinctive character. The lots around the houses are usually grassed though not normally on the same scale as I saw in Ohio. The most striking feature is that many, if not most properties have a slightly scruffy and disorderly feel to them which, in my opinion actually enriches and enhances their character. The whole atmosphere of the area is slightly sleepy and laid back.<br />
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Interspersed between the house lots are some delightful villages. We stopped in once such village, Canastota which is alongside the canal. A couple of the bridges and walls have some delightful murals celebrating the canal’s heritage and history. There is also a museum dedicated to the same subject. The name is derived from the Iroquois language (Kristen Stota meaning ‘cluster of pines near still waters’). Onion growing has been an important part of the village’s economy. I was surprised to see a sign to the International Boxing Hall of Fame. Two world champions (Carmen Basilio (Welterweight and Middleweight; he beat Sugar Ray Robinson to take the Middleweight title) and Billy Backus (Welterweight) are from here. Just another in a long list of unexpected discoveries that riding makes possible and makes it so rewarding.<br />
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With a relatively short stage, fast roads and a tailwind we made excellent time and were in danger of completing the stage before noon. So to ease things a tad when we spotted Dave’s Diner we pulled over and had some fantastic ice-cream. Proper ice cream! The CV and I plumped for a serving of Sea Salt Caramel in a cup. Recognising the risks of overindulgence from our last feast we opted for the small portion. We both agreed that it was more than sufficient.<br />
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Despite this we arrived in Herkimer much earlier than normal. Our hotel (motel) tonight is, I have to say, underwhelming and at the opposite end of the spectrum from the comparative luxury of the Hampton Inn which we left a little over six hours ago. Such is life. Every cloud has a silver lining though and there is one piece of excellent news to report. Cathy (aka Person Number Three), Navi, Pete and I went for a stroll into the town and discovered an excellent little restaurant. I had a wonderful Strawberry and Spinach Salad with nuts, berries and feta cheese. Possibly the best lunch I have enjoyed on the tour to date.<br />
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Until tomorrow …<br />
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Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2310761408992994260.post-39149199435139949472018-06-24T16:30:00.000+01:002018-06-25T00:09:56.577+01:00USA Tour Stage 38: Canandaigua to Syracuse, NY (72 Miles)<a href="https://www.relive.cc/view/1660031599" target="_blank">Click here</a> for route flyby<br />
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After yesterday’s excitement the CV and I made a pact at our morning team talk. Throttle back and take it a bit easier. Today’s stage was one that I had been eagerly anticipating for some time because of a connection to another of my passions. More in a moment. First let me set the scene and deal with the essentials. With low cloud, mist and fog floating around and a cooler temperature the ride started this morning with what was uncannily like a proper autumnal feel to it. In June? That can’t be right. Anyway it was one of those rides inviting the classic “Do I” or “Don’t I” question. I’m referring to the donning of my rain jacket. I did and then I didn’t and then I did again and then I didn’t again. OK, you’ve got it? I’ll shut up about it.<br />
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Within five miles guess what happened? A puncture for Emil so just as we had warmed up we had to stop and cool down. We both hoped that this wasn’t the start of “one of those days…” It was’t as it turned out. By now, fixing punctures is something we take in our stride. After all we’ve had lots of practice. So we were soon up the road and setting a good pace with the help of a modest tailwind. With the fog reducing visibility somewhat it was a day for lights – front and rear. As we ate up the miles we passed through Geneva and then Waterloo. Waterloo was designated as the birthplace of Memorial Day by President Lyndon B Johnson on 26 May 1966. This year it was celebrated on 28 May when we rode from Las Vegas to Tucumcari on Stage 14. That seems like an eon ago now.<br />
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Leaving Waterloo behind we reached Seneca Falls where I discovered that the first convention on Woman’s Rights was held over two days in 1848 – there’s a plaque marking the location. Then convention was a landmark event marking the start of a movement, that grew relentlessly leading in time to the 19th Amendment to the US Constitution which was passed into law in 1920 giving women the right to vote throughout the USA. As we rode through the town I found myself wondering about the pace of change and I was more than a little surprised to subsequently discover that it took over 60 years for all of the remaining states to ratify it, Mississippi being the last to do so in 1984. Of course, the right to vote is only a part of the story and I have plenty of friends who rightly feel that there is still a way to go. Discovering these little nuggets of history has been one of the most enjoyable aspects of this tour.<br />
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Now earlier on I hinted at my eager anticipation for today’s stage. So let me unpack this a bit – hang on in there as it might feel a bit left field. Long standing readers will know that I love Bob Dylan. And once again let me emphasise that it a love of his writing, his lyrics and not any other sort of love. I first tuned into His Bobness through the Basement Tapes and related stuff from The Band (Music From Big Pink). What did it for me was their drawing on the countryside and lifestyle of upstate New York to create some fabulous music. Now I appreciate that where I am today isn’t anywhere near Woodstock or Saugerties but the gentle lifestyles amongst the woods and forests that in part inspired their music has been with me for a long time. Earlier this year I read Robbie Robertson’s excellent autobiography, Testimony, which rekindled my interest. So I was keen today to look much more closely at the character and atmosphere of this part of New York State and to try and find some inspiration of my own. And yes, I did find it.<br />
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Long leafy lanes, gently rolling hills, canals, lovely wooden houses – each individually distinctive providing a rich tapestry and backdrop for my ride. A great ride! So rich that at least twice I failed to notice the Garmin telling me to make a turn. This was a very pastoral landscape interspersed with some lovely towns and villages and its was easy, for me at least, to understand how environments like this can fuel such creativity. It’s helped me to make sense of some of the things I want to write more about when I tell the full story of this tour. But in the meantime I have made a note to return, perhaps linked to another goal of riding in New England. What I can say for sure is that as I emerged from the woods approaching Syracuse I felt quite rejuvenated. I even had a little sing song of my own – a quick blast of ‘This Wheel’s on Fire’. (Look it up if you want to know more.) But in the light of yesterday’s excitement I shut up pretty quickly – this wheel is definitely not on fire!<br />
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<br />Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2310761408992994260.post-66165491221402122202018-06-23T20:30:00.000+01:002018-06-24T21:40:22.907+01:00USA Tour Stage 37: Hamburg to Canandaigua, NY (96 Miles)<a href="https://www.relive.cc/view/1657685589" target="_blank">Click here</a> for route flyby<br />
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Well here we are, another day nearer the end with a long stage across upstate New York. Now here’s a thing I didn’t know. There’s the town of Hamburg which was established by decree in 1812. One of the earliest recorded events was agreement to place a $5 bounty on wolf hides due to complaints by local people – about the wolves I imagine, not the hides! But in addition to the town there is also a quite separate village of Hamburg which spun off from the town in 1874. That explains the sign I saw on the way out!<br />
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Today was clearly going to be a signs day as I saw references to Warsaw and Lima as well as Wales. Naturally I stopped to get a photograph of the latter. Established in 1818, the town was given its name because the green fields and hills reminded the founders of the land of my fathers. I understand that the townspeople work hard to preserve a small-town, traditionalist atmosphere with much emphasis being placed on family life and small business. It bills itself as “a town of families, friends, farms and so much more!” To celebrate the town’s bicentennial this year, a wide range of events are being staged including walks, sports events, picnics and intriguingly a pie baking contest with the entries being judged in a couple of weeks time.I wonder who will win.<br />
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Heading onwards from Wales I found myself riding with Cathy (aka Person Number Three). With the rain of the last few days the road surfaces have collected a lot of debris and unfortunately for Cathy this translated into three punctures in rapid succession. On the second occasion we pulled up on the drive of a local house owner who soon appeared with her dog to see if she could help. In short order we learnt that Kathy was also a cyclist, that her husband races and that her dog was called Thor. As is usually the case on these occasions we had an interesting chat about our tour and, Kathy, if you are reading this please accept our grateful thanks for your assistance. You are another fine example of the kindness of strangers.<br />
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Cathy (the other one) had her third puncture just before the first SAG of the day so we decided to replace the tyre with a new one – no punctures for her thereafter. The first SAG marked another significant milestone in our journey eastwards; we had reached the 3,000-mile point. There are now just 417 miles to go to the Atlantic Ocean. I can’t believe how much has happened in the last six weeks. Cathy and I rode out of the SAG together pretty smartly as she was hoping to link up with some friends who had set out from the second SAG and were riding towards us. Link up we soon did to huge whoops of delight from Cath and her friends. As soon as they had turned around and completed the introductions I managed to bring the party atmosphere to a halt with my own rear wheel puncture. This was only a short-lived distraction though and we were soon underway again.<br />
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The second SAG was in the town of Avon at the (volunteer) fire station. They have let Crossroads use their restrooms for many years now. Basically, the leave the door unlocked and we just do what we have to do. I had a quick look around the inside of the station and managed to snag a pic of the CV and me propped up against one of the engines. Do you like it?<br />
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We headed off on the final leg. Today had the feel of a sluggish ride. I guess that the accumulated mileage is taking its toll – on some more than others. Bruce is wearing compression socks at night and packs his knee with ice as soon as we finish each stage. Pete is maintaining steady progress starting with the early group and keeping to a pace that he can sustain. There is a steely determination building in the group and we are all focussed on getting to the finish – individually and collectively. I have found that a little treat towards the end of the stage provides both the CV and me with a good boost. So let me tell you about today’s “little treat”.<br />
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Passing through the town of Bloomfield I spotted an ice cream parlour. The car park was quite full which was a good sign. So I pulled over to investigate – the rest of the group carried on and I said I was happy to make my own way to the finish. Looking inside, it was quickly apparent that I had arrived at ice cream heaven. A delicious selection was available, all home made. So I opted for a small pecan maple variety in a cone. I should have sensed trouble when I was told that we might find a bowl and spoon helpful. ‘Small’ turned out to be three scoops, large scoops by my definition, creating a veritable mountain of ice cream. Taking my spoils outside I found a quiet corner and the CV and I began to tuck in. This was ice cream of the highest order. Proper ice cream; rich and creamy with the sweet tangy taste of maple and the slightly flavour of pecan. I have to say that it was quite possibly better that that Pecan Fudge Pie that I tasted in Somerset (6 June). But I do know someone who would probably beg to differ and assert that the pie was better! Whatever, today the ice cream defeated the CV and me so we decided that discretion was the better part of valour and reluctantly headed off on the final leg of the day.<br />
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Riding on our own gave us the chance to up the speed and burn off some extra calories. We were making excellent progress and pace when we had a little mishap. There are three things readers that I dread on tour. Three ways that can force us to abandon. First is getting sick, so we are as scrupulous as we can be about our hygiene, particularly at SAGs when lots of people are handling the same food. I have known riders succumb, leaving them with no choice but to head home. Second, a major mechanical – a bike breaker. And third, serious injury – broken bones, especially collar bones the cyclists Achilles Heel as it were. Well today we had the luckiest of escapes and cheated two of the three threats.<br />
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A couple of miles from the finish we were whizzing gently downhill at about 35mph along a long, wide, smooth shoulder. We were so happy that we were about to burst into song. Our reverie was cut short by an almighty bang, total and instant loss of air from the real wheel and the sound and feel of the rim bumping and grinding on the tarmac. But worse than that the CV began to swing from side to side. I spent the next two hundred yards desperately trying to stay upright whilst reducing our speed. The rear brake was largely ineffective due to the speed and the flat tyre. Using the front brake too harshly risked accentuating the swinging into a jackknife with the certain consequence that we would hit the tarmac hard. Eventually we managed to come to a stop and I unclipped and nearly fell over so much were my legs shaking. I heard a voice behind me say:”Buddy are you alright?” or words to that effect. Looking up I could see a policeman walking towards me and behind him was his car with the roofs lights flashing. Once I had collected my wits and we had made our introductions I learnt that he had seen the incident and quick as a flash had acted to slow the following traffic in case I veered out onto the carriageway. He remained with me until I had replaced the tube and temporarily boosted the tyre (there was a hole nearly ¼ of an inch long in it). Then, after shaking my hand and wishing me well on the ride to Boston, he followed me for about half a mile once I got going again. It was a mighty relieved Captain and CV who eventually pulled in to our hotel.<br />
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All’s well that end’s well though. I’ve fitted a new rear tyre – and a front one as well. The CV has stopped shaking and we are both ready to go tomorrow. In my experience the best medicine in these situations, apart from a glass of beer, is to get on with it. So that’s precisely what we’re going to do. And besides, tomorrow is a stage that I have been eagerly anticipating. As I hope you will discover.<br />
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Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2310761408992994260.post-71483147043607952942018-06-22T20:00:00.000+01:002018-06-23T02:31:26.653+01:00USA Tour Stage 36: Erie, PA to Hamburg, NY (81 Miles)<a href="https://www.relive.cc/view/1655254690" target="_blank">Click here</a> for route flyby<br />
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After enjoying a lovely leisurely day in Erie including a beer or three on the first evening, brunch at Dave’s Diner (superb), a visit to the Maritime Museum and a wonderful curry last night I was ready to get back on the road for what is now the final phase of the tour. Pretty well the whole of today was spent riding parallel to the southern shore of Lake Erie. State Route 5 heads gradually north east with occasional glimpses of the lake through the trees. As we rode out of Erie Bruce pointed out a sign commemorating Captain C V Grindley. So this Captain, riding a CV, just had to take the picture<br />
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Around the 20-mile point we crossed over into the State of New York. This was a landmark moment for me and a realisation that the end of the tour is not far away now. The thought of entering a state that has its eastern edge on the Atlantic Ocean really did brings it home to me. I spent quite a few minutes thinking about what this means. Seven weeks in the saddle on tour is a long time and I have to say that while I am still in reasonable shape physically the succession of one night stays and the conveyor belt of chain eatery food is taking its toll. Fortunately for me the highs of riding more than compensate for the domestic challenges – most of the time. Of course it isn’t over until the fat lady signs. But today I sent word to the good people of Boston that the Captain is coming. He’s riding hard and fast and there will be fireworks, music and maybe even a dance when he arrives. Indulge me here readers; indulge me!<br />
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What was a complete surprise to me were the numerous vineyards that lined the road for the first half of the stage. Pennsylvania is the largest grape-growing region in the country after California and the Lake Erie area is known as ‘the Grape Belt of America’. Over two dozen grape varieties are grown including native reds (Catawba and Concord) and whites (Niagara), as well as a large number of hybrid species (Baco Noir, Seyval Blanc). There are also several European varieties such as Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Pinot Grigio and Chardonnay. I could see that the soil was suitable but I was surprised that the climate was as I would have thought spring frosts might be a problem but clearly not – perhaps due to the lake’s microclimate. Vines have been grown in the state since 1683. The wine growing region has over 200 wineries, including several with an international reputation and others where a new generation of winemakers are challenging tradition, with some success.<br />
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Now I’d like to let you into a little secret. Well, two secrets. Today I rode through Barcelona and Dunkirk on the way to our destination at Hamburg. That must be some sort of record for crossing Europe, surely. And talking of records I was pleased to see that I had claimed a Strava KOM (King of the Mountains) – on the Southwestern Rollers segment (4.7 miles). I lead the field by over a minute. Of course I’m bigging up the bragging rights here. But let me have some fun – please!<br />
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The first half of the ride was really enjoyable with a reasonable road surface, attractive scenery and relatively little traffic competing for the tarmac space. Unfortunately the second half was much less pleasant – the wide shoulder was definitely needed given the increased volume of traffic. I rode in to Hamburg with Chris who is from Manchester and now lives in Florida and is relatively new to cycling – golf is his thing and very good he is at it too. But I have to tell you that Chris is also a source of inspiration. Every single day since leaving LA Chris has ridden to the limit and has been determined to make it to the finish. But the real inspiration is that Chris has an incurable cancer, a rare lymphoma. (You can <a href="http://www.dodgeglobe.com/news/20180601/cancer-wont-stop-him" target="_blank">read more about him here</a>.) So I felt very honoured to ride alongside Chris for a while today and share our tour perspectives. Compared to him, my struggles are trivial.<br />
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Once I had finished the stage I had an opportunity to tick off another item from my ‘to do’ list. Emil and his wife Eve invited Pete and I to join them on an excursion to see Niagara Falls. Although this was a very brief visit I am glad to have made it. It was a great way to end another great day. I’ve heard tomorrow could be quite tough so I’m off to get some shuteye now.<br />
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Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2310761408992994260.post-1497456791441292892018-06-21T15:30:00.000+01:002018-06-21T21:25:59.822+01:00USA Tour Stage 34 Wooster to Niles, OH (102 Miles) & Stage 35: Niles to Erie, PA (90 Miles)First up an apology for the break in transmission. Over the past few days there have been some things happening off the bike that I have had, and wanted to prioritise over my writing. So my fingers have strayed from the keyboard. But I am back on the case now readers. I am writing this on our final rest day in Erie, a delightful city on the lakeside. I’m going to play a little game of catch up here and combine the last two days stages into one report. They’re both pretty much all in Ohio so that makes it easier. I hope you don’t feel shortchanged!<br />
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Stage 34 was from Wooster to Niles (93 miles – <a href="https://www.relive.cc/view/1649327704" target="_blank">click here</a> for route flyby). Wooster is a lovely city with lots of charm and I enjoyed a delicious dinner at a small restaurant with a special friend the evening before. It was especially nice to eat fresh food which tasted like it had been prepared to order, rather than the more usual manufactured fodder that the chain eateries provide. We rolled out of Wooster at the usual time of 07:30 and gradually headed eastwards on a succession of quiet country roads. The countryside we passed through was beautiful – the further east we go the more lush it seems to get. We crossed over a large lake before entering Berlin (not that one!). The village was founded in 1816 by John Swigert who, not surprisingly, came from the other Berlin. Most of the early inhabitants were from Germany and Switzerland. Today, the village is best known as the largest Amish community in Ohio.<br />
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As I left the village I spotted a depot full of yellow school buses so I pulled over to grab a photo. It’s not often that I’ve seen such a big nest of buses! As I crossed the road I could see a Sheriff’s vehicle parked with the deputy inside looking at the passing motorists. So I rode up to him and asked if I could lean the CV on the front of his vehicle for photo. After looking at me incredulously he agreed and within a mere few minutes we were in the full throes of a debate about how American motorists treat cyclists compared to the UK. He had quite a few interesting opinions, and I suspect that on the basis of my observations on UK motorists, may now think that I come from a country of homicidal drivers. “How close do they pass you? Wow!”<br />
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Time was pressing on and the stage finish at Niles beckoned so I had to leave my peacekeeping friend to his peacekeeping duties and resume the ride eastwards. The final part of the ride was a real delight – a dedicated paved cycle route through the woods to the edge of Niles. It was a really blissful experience. So lovely that I actually turned around and rode back a few miles to do it again, using the time to clear my head and float free! I also had a hidden agenda. The extra miles meant that by the time I arrived at the hotel I had managed to notch up my third successive century! Yay.<br />
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I awoke the following morning to a leaden grey, heavy sky. Rain was in the air. So on with the swan neck to protect my backside from the spray. The last time I fitted it there was no rain so I was hoping that it would have the same effect today. It didn’t and within just a few miles the heaven’s opened, down came the rain and on went my Idrio jacket (100% breathable, 100% waterproof). Breathability is a major consideration with the humidity we experience. Sadly, the rain stayed with us until virtually the end of the ride so I just got on with it. Tapping the pedals and taping out Stage 35’s miles, ninety of them. Keeping moving is the best way to keep warm in these conditions. (<a href="https://www.relive.cc/view/1652578406" target="_blank">Click here</a> for route flyby.) Pete had decided to go out with the early group as he fancied a gentler day on the road so this was the first time I have not ridden with him since we met in California on our Hollywood jaunt. Was it something I said? Pete says not.<br />
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The second SAG today was at the White Turkey Drive-in, an establishment which has achieved legendary status on previous Crossroads tours. Founded in 1952 by Eddie and Marge Tuttle as a place to showcase their farm-raised turkey sandwiches. The restaurant takes its name from the White Holland breed of turkey. The business is still run by the family and their friends. But I had heard of something else that they served which I decided to give a whirl – a root beer float. Under the expert tutelage of Bruce, who I had been riding the rain with, I stirred with my spoon and pushed with my straw and got stuck in. Now I have to say that root beer is an acquired taste and with a little practice it is a taste that I might well acquire – especially when the float is so delicious. As I downed the drink and spooned the ice cream I could see Bruce looking at me out of the corner of his eye and smiling to himself. You may just have started something Sir Bruce!<br />
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Although the rain was easing I kept the Idrio on and crossed over into Pennsylvania (state number 10) before rolling into Erie and the prospect of a day off the saddle. I arrived with a dry backside and body (thanks swan neck and Idrio) but as I walked into the foyer of the hotel I could hear my feet squelching. Ah well, everyone can’t be perfect I suppose. Erie has the feel of a really nice place and the hotel is situated right on the lakeshore. An ideal place to have a proper rest and to recharge my batteries. Especially as the last few days have been both tumultuous and an emotional roller coaster. But that’s a story for another time!<br />
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I’ll be back tomorrow and I hope dear readers that the next report from the front wheel isn’t unduly delayed…<br />
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Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2310761408992994260.post-50607072933987617922018-06-18T20:00:00.000+01:002018-06-20T02:59:32.167+01:00USA Tour Stage 33: Marysville to Wooster, OH (100 miles)<a href="https://www.relive.cc/view/1647077199" target="_blank">Click here</a> for route flyby<br />
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The cue sheet for today showed that the stage was 97 Miles. Close, temptingly close to a century. Regular readers will know that the Captain doesn’t consider 99.9 miles to be a century – it has to be 100. So it was game on for a few extra miles at the end of the stage to rack up a proper century.<br />
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The stage was another full day’s riding in Ohio. As we progress eastwards the countryside is getting more and more lush. Lots of greenery - grass, crops, trees, hedges, woods and forests. Delightful roads meandering through valleys with streams and rivers, some full of fish, gurgling and burbling their way along. Lots of lovely properties too, large and small, mostly set back from the roads and almost invariably well maintained. The homes of proud folk. And lots of architecturally simple, plain white churches. It was totally enjoyable riding, often freewheeling along as I took in everything around me.<br />
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I had one unexpected and very pleasant encounter. I had stopped at a bridge to get a picture of the river we had been following for several miles and while looking around a woman, in her ate thirties I guessed slowed and asked me if everything was ok (I was riding solo at the time). So I replied I the affirmative and added that I was just admiring the view. Picking up on my accent she got out of the car, asked if I needed any cold water and came over for a goss – the usual stuff, where I had come from, where I was going and so forth. As we were chatting there was a cry from the back of her car to which see said “Oh that’s just one of my kids waking up.” Sensing that our conversation was coming to an end I mentioned this blog site to which she produced a pen and paper and got me to write down the URL. So dear lady, if you are reading this then my thanks for both your concern and your interest. One again I am struck by the kindness of strangers.<br />
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Today, the character of the route changed towards the back end. A complete transformation from gentle undulations to rollers. And some quite brutal rollers at that. Around about the 70-mile mark we faced a succession of climbs, some touching 12%, which had me changing down on to the granny ring which I haven’t needed to use for some time. With the temperature and humidity rising sharply what had seemed like an easy ride turned into something much more challenging. Now it was almost a case of survival. I could feel the seemingly never ending succession of rollers leaching away the strength from my legs. The downhill sections provided opportunities to recover but never quite enough to before the road turned upwards again.<br />
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I did have one moment of light relief as I arrived at the village of Funk. Yes, that’s right, there is actually a village called ‘Funk’. By co-incidence as I taking the requisite photo Mary and Navi in one of the support vehicles pulled up and quick as a flash Navi worked her magic and a burrs then of James Brown emerged from the car’s speakers. Well, I didn’t need a second call. The Lewis got moving, the torso got shimmying and I gave it my all to the beat. Fortunately this time no photos or videos exist! So will have to take it from me – I was funky in Funk!<br />
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The last part of the stage into Wooster was relatively straightforward. I was able to top up my water bottles to ensure I strayed hydrated – the main challenge for the day and Pete and I eased into town via a rather fine bike shop (didn’t buy anything). Then with a couple of circuits if the town to put on the requisite miles for the century we rolled up at our hotel just as the clouds burst – literally. Two centuries in two days! Wonderful.<br />
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<br />Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2310761408992994260.post-22195796153608494592018-06-17T20:00:00.000+01:002018-06-20T02:42:24.491+01:00USA Tour Stage 32: Richmond, IN to Marysville, OH (104 Miles)<a href="https://www.relive.cc/view/1645360164" target="_blank">Click here</a> for route flyby<br />
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Every evening in the reception area of our hotel the Crossroads team display a large map showing how far we have come. Since leaving LA last month we have travelled about 2,600 miles and passed through nine states. I remember looking at the map a few days after we set off and thinking that we have pedalled a lot a lot of miles but don’t seem to have gone very far. Looking at the map when we arrived in Marysville today after a long and hot stage I realised that we have made huge progress. The line tracing our route, and the photographs lining it, show just how far we have come. What really struck me today was that we really are closer, much closer to the end now. There are only 11 riding days until we reach the east coast and dip our wheels in the Atlantic Ocean.<br />
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I’m looking at this with very mixed feelings. Satisfaction and a growing feeling of achievement as we get ever closer to the finishing line. Not that I’m counting any chickens. Happiness at some new friendships I’ve made, including a couple of very special ones which I hope will continue after the tour. Pride at being part of a group of riders who collectively have grown into a magnificent and strongly supportive team. The collective response to overcoming the interstate puncture challenge set, for me at least, a new benchmark in teamwork. I’ve also got a few twinges of sadness – things I didn’t see or quite appreciate on the road. And some people who are no longer on the tour – a couple of folk in particular who have been in my thoughts a lot since they left us.<br />
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Of course a lot can happen in eleven days. And I am sure that my thoughts and reflections will continue to involve but today’s stage was for me, one of reflecting and taking stock. Today’s stage was also one that a close friend of mine would really have liked to have ridden. For me it had a certain English countryside feel to it and I would have enjoyed chatting about what we saw. So my motivator for riding today was my ‘absent’ friend. There in my thoughts throughout if not in person<br />
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Three miles after leaving Richmond we crossed the State Line into Ohio, the tenth state on the tour so far. I had heard that this part of Ohio was very pretty so I was looking forward to the ride. The countryside here is very lush, green with lots of trees, hedges and woods set in rolling land. In places it felt very much like parts of Suffolk, especially the area to the east of Newmarket so I felt quite at home. In fact One of my local riding chums said just that in a message to me!<br />
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One of the challenges I have riding in countryside like this is the difficultly of concentrating on the Garmin and the route map. It is all to easy to get so absorbed in the passing scenery and miss a critical turn. The Garmin responds almost immediately with an “off course” but if you are not looking at it then you are none the wiser. And yes, I’ll fess up now. I once went several miles before I realised the error of my navigation.<br />
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But it’s not all doom and gloom Sometime going the wrong way reveals a hidden delight. Today was a case in point. Having missed a right-hand turn I spotted an old mill building ahead of me so rode to it to investigate. And what a lovely four storey wooden building it was. Complete with a replica vintage pickup truck parked outside. As far as I could determine the mill is open to visitors (not today, sadly) and is also the workplace of a photographer<br />
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There wasn’t much to trouble me physically on today’s stage. It was largely flat with smooth surfaces and fast tarmac. So easy riding. We did however come across a couple of disruptions – some road resurfacing works and a collapsed bridge both of which we took in our stride. Nothing stops the Crossroads train!<br />
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One hundred and five miles ands exactly six hours after setting off Pete and I rolled in to Marysville. This was the first of four long riding days – I can sense the possibilities of another century on tomorrow’s stage and possibly one the day after. The CV is liking this. My legs are not so sure!<br />
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Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2310761408992994260.post-315054892878460612018-06-16T20:00:00.000+01:002018-06-17T22:12:20.193+01:00USA Tour Stage 31: Indianapolis to Richmond, IN (72 Miles)<a href="https://www.relive.cc/view/1642805867" target="_blank">Click here</a> for route flyby<br />
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With the prospect of three tough days ahead today was another relatively easy stage and the BBC and the Euros rolled out of Indianapolis bound for Richmond. I was rather fetchingly kitted out (well I thought so) in a new orange and blue Illinois Fighting Illini college jersey that I bought on our last rest day in Champaign. Rather frustratingly I had a puncture within the first five miles – another of those infernal truck tyre wires. Fortunately the team rallied round and the tube change was made in very short order. An added bonus was that Mary, who was driving one of the support vehicles today, pulled up with a track pump at exactly the right moment. (Good on ya!) So in less than 5 minutes I was rolling again. Having a puncture in the first few miles of a stage can often set the tone for the rest of the day so I was delighted not to suffer any further misfortune. Indeed today was a very relaxed, almost leisurely affair with several stops for photos and refreshments as well as some good natured chit chat in between.<br />
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Passing through Greenfield at about 20 miles guess who I spotted sitting on bench? James Whitcomb Riley, the well-known Hoosier poet, author and entertainer. So I pulled over for a chat with him. Now I guess I ought to come clean at this point. When I say that I pulled over for a chat with James, I am talking metaphorically, not literally. He was born in Greenfield in 1849 and now his statue sits gracefully on a bench on the sidewalk surveying all who pass by. Riley’s career received an early boost with an endorsement from Henry Wandsworth Longfellow (author of The Song of Hiawatha) and his most famous works include “Little Orphant Annie” and “The Raggedy Man”, the latter providing the inspiration for the Raggedy Ann doll, beloved of many children.<br />
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From my post-ride research I have discovered that Hoosier is the collective name for the inhabitants of Indiana – hence Indiana been known as the Hoosier State. The source of the name is uncertain but it was in common use by the 1840s. Sadly, the term is also used in a rather more derogatory fashion, which I am not going to get into here.<br />
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Every so often on a ride you get an entirely unexpected surprise. Riding in one direction means that I often fail to spot a sight or feature. But sometimes you get a lucky hand as I did today. With hot, humid conditions we pulled into a gas station in Cambridge City to get a cold drink. Cambridge City, which is named after the university city near where I live in the East of England seemed a nice place With the number of Stars and Stripes flags and banners on display along the Main Street it was clearly a patriotic place. It is apparently also a highly popular place for antique collectors to visit. Well, while downing my drink on the gas station forecourt I happened to look back towards the direction we had come from and right in front of me was a magnificent mural. Not just any mural either but a depiction of Abraham Lincoln’s funeral train which transported the late Presidents coffin from Washington DC to Springfield, Illinois. The train passed slowly through Cambridge City at 4:15am on 30 April 1865. Although not scheduled to make any official stops it did in fact stop three times in Cambridge. The first lasted 5 seconds outside the home of General Meredith, a friend and ally of Lincoln, where the whistle was sounded in tribute. Then the train stopped a second time for 15 seconds at the grand arch in the city centre so that 3,000 townspeople could pay their respects. Finally the trainUIKEYINPUTDOWNARROW stopped at level crossing on the western edge of the city, though I am not sure why. The larger than life mural, by Pamela Bliss, was unveiled in April 2015 to mark the 150th anniversary of Lincoln’s death. This was part of a bigger commemoration of the event when the entire city was decked out in mourning, just as it was a century and a half before. So it just goes to show that sometimes it is well worth looking over your shoulder.<br />
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From Cambridge City to Richmond was an easy spin. And Pete and I paused for the usual stage end photos in front to the town sign. And, no we didn’t have to look over our shoulders; we saw it coming!<br />
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<br />Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2310761408992994260.post-28876975147715892032018-06-15T20:30:00.000+01:002018-06-16T23:57:59.152+01:00USA Tour Stage 30: Crawfordsville to Indianapolis, IN (55 Miles)<a href="https://www.relive.cc/view/1640713862" target="_blank">Click here</a> for route flyby<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doing the Madness Walk</td></tr>
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Today was another short day and the ride over to Indianapolis was pretty unremarkable. So unremarkable that I Mahdi only taken one photograph until the last leg of the stage. But it was definitely worth the wait. If I tell you that on the first half of the route we passed through endless fields of maize and soya along straight, nondescript roads, you’ll probably get the picture. The tedium was lifted slightly in Jamestown where we spotted a large white statue of a figure striding across the grass. Quick as a flash Pete had us doing a variation of the Madness walk to lighten the mood. And if I’ve lost you here look for Madness (the band) videos on You Tube and work it out for yourself!<br />
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We approached the outskirts of Indianapolis on some very busy and very rough roads. This was all rather unpleasant. But with only a few miles to go it all changed. Leaving the main roads we turned on the the White River Trail and it was like crossing over into a new world. Gone were the noisy, exhaust-fume belching lorries passing through an endless series of industrial areas. Now we had entered utopia or so it seemed.<br />
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A lovely smooth cycle trail weaved its way through mature trees and woods with glimpses of the White River beyond. In just a few seconds we were in a magical world, quite, lush and teeming with wildlife. The transformation was total and totally unexpected. Although we had been given a heads up at the morning’s Route Rap nothing had prepared me for this experience.<br />
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But there was more to come. We burst out of the trees on to a small promontory with the whole of downtown Indianapolis laid in front of us. The modern skyscrapers sitting on the horizon with the river cascading over some rapids in front of us was just magnificent. Although this had been only a short part of the whole stage it easily made up for the underwhelming nature of the previous parts.<br />
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Gradually we got nearer and nearer to the city centre, turning eventually onto a wide car-free bridge to cross the river. Indianapolis. The White River State Park that we had been riding through is one of the jewels in the city’s crown. It is very pedestrian and cycle friendly and, for me a least, quite different to anything I had seen so far on the tour. The range of street art provides a vivid counterpart to some of the city’s buildings, many of which are architectural masterpieces. Although in European terms they are relatively recent constructions, many of the buildings are very traditional in their design with huge columns and pillars enriched with intricate stonework.<br />
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The last few miles were so enthralling that I seized an entirely unexpected opportunity to ride it again with one of the tour team. As I rode along I recalled a brief chat earlier that day about Van Morrison and that set me thinking about a couple of his songs. And do you know what? Van the Man has the words that sum up perfectly how I felt about this part of the ride:<br />
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<i>These are the days now that we must savour</i><br />
<i>And we must enjoy as we can</i><br />
<i>These are the days that will last forever</i><br />
<i>You’ve got to hold them in your heart</i><br />
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As the end of the tour slowly comes on to the horizon I find that increasingly I am taking stock and reflecting on those moments, places and people that I will be holding in my heart. This is very definitely one of them. And readers, I make no apologies for getting all sentimental again.<br />
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Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2310761408992994260.post-83285220820099071372018-06-14T20:00:00.000+01:002018-06-15T01:54:10.028+01:00USA Tour Stage 29: Champaign, IL to Crawfordsville, IN (82 Miles)<a href="https://www.relive.cc/view/1638793208" target="_blank">Click here</a> for route flyby<br />
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Yesterday was a rest day and I had a thoroughly enjoyable and rather unexpected day exploring Champaign. I had no expectations, indeed before arriving I hadn’t given Champaign a second thought. I spent most of the day with Pete in the University District. This was a delightful campus with nicely landscaped grounds, some outstanding architecture and some lovely art installations. The highlight for me was our visit to the Krannert Art Museum which took a bit of finding but was well worth the effort.<br />
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There was a fabulous exhibition of postwar (1945-55) print making and I spotted an amazing collation of photographs of Manhattan Beach in Los Angeles. This evoked some powerful memories of my rides before the tour started and also of our wheel dipping ceremony on Stage 1. It is incredible how far we have come since then and how much has changed along the way – at so many different levels. Rather stupidly I didn’t make any notes about the collation so I have contacted the Museum to see if they can help me. There is a story to be told here and I would like to tell it when I write my book of the tour.<br />
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There is one other exhibition that I really have too tell you a bit about. It was by Basel Abbas and Ruanne Abou-Rahme and in two parts. Firstly a video and sound installation following a group of young people walking through a destroyed village in Palestine and second a study, a sort of catalogue I suppose, covering the prehistoric past and digital future interpretations of Palestine and the West Bank from a unique perspective. Let me just say that I was really challenged, in a good way, by what a I saw and heard. Some of the short writings and poems that were dotted around the installation brought big lumps to my throat. Such power and emotion in the simplicity of the words. This is one of the greatest pleasures of a rest day for me. I never quite know what I am going to stumble across. I am usually quite content to explore and discover in a random or spontaneous way as opposed to having a target or a goal to visit a specific place and tick it off a list.<br />
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Champaign struck me as a really nice place. Such a contrast to the concrete installations that the elves construct for us each day. I even spotted a couple of pavement bistros and a trattoria and was disappointed not to have had the time to enjoy them with a new friend or two. Being able to do this would have made the day a proper rest day. Plus ça change<br />
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So there you have it readers. A glimpse into a rest day on tour. Much needed and, in some respects, all over too soon. Today we were back on the road. And back with a vengeance! Our little group seems to have evolved into the BBC and the Euros. The BBC are Barry, Bruce and Cathy. The Euros are Emil, Pete and me. We’ve been riding together a lot over the last few days, although once we reach the first SAG Barry, who prefers not to linger, usually heads off on his own. The rest of us like a rather more leisurely halt.<br />
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Soon after we rolled out of the hotel Cathy and I stopped to photograph some cycling street art followed by a comfort stop (thanks Starbucks). The rest of the group carried on riding and Cathy and I then engaged in a spot of high speed catch up. Over the next 25 miles, and with a light headwind, we rode hard and fast, going full gas, in an effort to close the gap. We had no idea how big the gap was. We could only guess based on the assumption that the group was maintaining a constant speed and we were riding 3-4mph faster. This was hard work, very hard, yet also satisfying. (You’ll need to do it to understand.) I led and Kathy pushed me every mile of the way. The further and harder we went I could see my heart rate rising to a level where I eventually had to back off for fear of popping a rivet or three. And for my cycling readers, yes, I was very definitely “on the rivet” as they say. Also, as the miles rolled by I could feel the lactate level rising in my legs and started to wonder how long I could sustain this momentum. It’s been several years since I’ve sustained such a high output, in a two-up on the road for so long. Maintaining this level of performance in a bunch is an entirely different, and much easier proposition.<br />
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Eventually, with a long straight ahead of us I thought I could see a red flashing light up the road. Resisting the temptation to raise the pace still further, if that were even possible, and risk blowing up, we gradually closed the gap inch by inch, foot by foot over the next couple of miles. Slowly and surely we pulled them back. With about 400 yards left and with a shout of “Let’s go” we stamped on the pedals, Cathy came round me and somehow we found an extra 2-3 mph to finally make the catch. Looking at my Strava record I can see that we started chasing at 4.6 miles on the stage and made the catch at 29.2 miles after 1 hr 28 mins. So having joined back on we felt quite entitled to sit on the back and recover. What fun. Hard work but very satisfying too. I should add that when we reached the SAG my legs asked me ‘What just happened?” and once I could stand up properly, I had to engage in a spot of leg stretching to untangle my muscles. For the record, the CV just purred throughout.<br />
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After the ‘excitement’ of the first leg we stuck closely together, each of us sharing a little smile from time to time. Shortly after the SAG we crossed the state line into Indiana – the Crossroads of America - stopping in Veedersburg for a welcome drink which was livened up by the attentions of a couple of passing ladies. I am not going to say any more (what goes on tour, stays on tour). But suffice it to say that this wasn’t the only encounter we had with them today! We also experienced a spot of dangerous driving which Cathy phoned in to the police. We had noticed the driver a few miles earlier as he’d been pulled over for some violation as we passed by. The final leg to Crawfordsville passed without incident and it was one weary Captain who finally collapsed onto the armchair in his hotel room. But one happy Captain too.<br />
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See you tomorrow!<br />
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Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2310761408992994260.post-82851995976901123842018-06-12T20:00:00.000+01:002018-06-13T14:40:35.139+01:00USA Tour Stage 28: Springfield to Champaign, IL (89 Miles)<a href="https://www.relive.cc/view/1635143352" target="_blank">Click here</a> for route flyby<br />
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Last night things got a little exciting in Springfield. Around 1:30am I was woken by the sounds of thunder and heavy rain falling in the hotel car park. Add a few flashes of lightning and we had a storm. A proper storm! Whilst all this was going on my phone sprang to life as weather warnings were issued. The storm lasted for perhaps half an hour – I dozed fitfully through it – and several times just when it seemed it might be over, it reprised the action with more rolls of thunder. The sort of thunder that you could hear crashing away across the countryside for miles and miles.<br />
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Some mornings when I wake early I have a look at the weather apps on my phone to see what lies in store for us. I’m still using the BBC Weather app which seems to have reasonable coverage of conditions over here. I’m also using another app, AccuWeather, which provides more detailed local information. Yes, like many cyclists I’m a little obsessed with the weather. Having perused the forecasts I also had a peek at the news to discover that Champaign, today’s destination, had recently been struck by two minor tornadoes, each lasting less than one minute and registering at the lowest point on the tornado severity index. It seems that there was relatively little damage caused – thankfully.<br />
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With the prospect of weather issues on today’s ride I decided to play it safe and fitted my Swan neck mudguard to the back of the CV. Hopefully if it did rain and the roads were wet I wouldn’t suffer from a rain soaked chamois in my shorts! I find that to be particularly unpleasant. Well that and wet socks! Cycling readers will understand the subtleties here!<br />
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We said goodbye to Springfield and under grey skies, but with a gentle tailwind, headed off on an initially tricky route making several left and right turns through the suburbs. One again the ‘we’ here were The Fabs plus Person Number Three, Nashville Bruce and his chum David who had come down from Chicago to busk with us today. After only half a mile I looked back over my shoulder and realised that Pete and Emil weren’t visible. So I turned around to retrace the route and eventually ran into Pete who mentioned that Emil had had a puncture and had told Pete to go ahead as he would play catch up once he had replaced the tube.So the two of us headed off, eventually joining the others at the junction with State Route 54E. (For the record Emil made the catch about 10 miles further up the road.)<br />
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Now let me tell you about the scenery for most of the rest of the ride. It’s quite easy really. Scattered house and farm buildings, a few trees and woods, fields of corn and soya, more fields of corn and soya, lots more fields of corn and soya. Have you got the picture? Yes? Well, unfortunately I didn’t as I only took two photos throughout the day – my lowest number on the tour so far.<br />
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But it wasn’t all boredom. With relatively little traffic and easy spinning we rode doubled for most of the day, passing the time in conversation with each other. The rough road surface meant we still had to be on guard for potentially wheel buckling potholes – especially as several of them were filled with water from last night’s storms. We also had the occasional moment of excitement. At one point we were riding on a long, gently rising straight with occasional traffic coming towards us. Behind I could hear a truck approaching and dropping down through the gears to wait for a gap in the oncoming traffic before passing us. After about five minutes of this I could hear the truck rev up and start the overtaking manoeuvre.<br />
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Here’s the thing though. The truck driver needed to work his way through the gears as he picked up speed. However each gears change resulted in the momentary loss of forward speed so the overtaking distance required a lot more road. (We had eased the pace slightly to help the driver.) Up ahead we could see a car approaching and the truck driver tarted to slow down to pull back in but left it a bit too late. So the oncoming car had to pull off the highway and then off the shoulder onto the rough gravel roadside fringe, making a fearsome noise, in order to get by. Th really surprising thing however was that the oncoming car was Sheriff’s vehicle. We fully expected it to turn around, fire up its blues and twos and start chasing. But not a bit of it. Once the road was clear I could see the Sheriff pull back onto to the tarmac and was continuing down the road as if nothing had happened. And, by the way, the lorry passed us too – as soon as the road levelled out.<br />
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As this was an ‘easy’ day we took it at a fairly leisurely pace with two SAGs, at 33 and 64 miles as well as a stop for a drink at a Dairy Queen in between. Bruce had a puncture and Emil had a second one so that all added to the sense of an unhurried ride.The route notes had flagged up a bike shop on the outskirts of Champaign so we pulled over door a look round. Pete got the mechanic to check over his bike – a case of “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” and Emil got a new rear tyre. I bought a souvenir jersey and some track mitts to replace a pair that have disintegrated!<br />
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Now here’s the thing. Remember that I said I had fitted the swan neck guard before setting off? Did it rain? Yes, bucket loads of the stuff according to Itchytoo who had driven ahead. Did it rain on us? Not a drop! Such is the power of the swan neck!!<br />
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Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2310761408992994260.post-17335407884897561412018-06-11T20:00:00.000+01:002018-06-12T03:26:52.703+01:00USA Tour Stage 27: Quincy to Springfield, IL (107 Miles)<a href="https://www.relive.cc/view/1632590416" target="_blank">Click here</a> for route flyby<br />
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Dateline: Monday 11 June; Destination: Springfield, Illinois; Distance 105 miles. Today marked the fifth century stage of the tour so far and the rumours were that it might be quite tough. In the event it was demanding, but in the Captain’s humble opinion, not too tough. As we rolled out of Quincy the omens were uncertain. I spotted a radio mast which disappeared into the low grey clouds that swirled around angrily above us. Rain seemed to be in the air (it stayed dry throughout). We reprised yesterday’s cast of riders – The Fabs plus guests artistes. Looking ahead I could see that Person Number Three (Kathy) had fitted a rear mudguard so I wondered if I had made a mistake by sending my Swan Neck (another type of rain protector) ahead in the van.<br />
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Before setting off I had convened a meeting with myself and decided that today was going to be known as ‘Laughter Monday’. This seems to have been a long week of riding, distances and events, with a lot going down, so spirits in the peloton are flagging somewhat. I felt it’s was time to lift the mood. To liven up the proceedings, or so I thought, I had bought an air horn during yesterday’s Walmart excursion. I’m not sure if using it actually turned out to be a funny as I had hoped – possibly a case of overkill. Anyway, the laughter started off in fine fettle when we persuaded Itchytoo to tell one of the faster riders, Barry, that we had already left and he was the last man standing. We were actually standing round the corner laughing as Barry clipped in and pedalled away. He did see the funny side though and stayed with us until the first SAG.<br />
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Most of today’s ride was on State Route 104E, which had a good surface enabling us to roll along easily. As we were now in Illinois we were surrounded by cornfields (maize) which stretched away for miles on either side of the road. I am told that this is going to be a common sight for the next several days. The first SAG came up pretty quickly and we pulled over the St John Wood Community College where the latest branch of the Crossroads Cycling Pop-up Franchise had established itself. The usual fare was on offer, supplemented today by a selection of those rather tasty doughnuts that the CV had enjoyed a while back.<br />
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Once we were refreshed we set off again bound for the bridge over the Illinois River. The route notes had warned us that there was no shoulder on the bridge so I suspected that I wouldn’t be able to get a photo as I crossed it. In the event may luck was in because the traffic was reduced to single file while some road repairs were being carried out. So I timed my crossing to the minute and was able to park the CV and snatch a pic before the following traffic caught up with me.<br />
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As I descended I could see Mike R in front of me (he had overtaken whole I wears taking my photo). While watching him I noticed something fall out of his jersey pocket and then realised it was his camera. Thanks to a short indentation in the bridge wall I was able to pull over, prop the CV out of the way and then wait safely until the traffic had passed. Carefully choosing my moment and mimicking the Froomedog’s run on last year’s Ventoux Stage of the Tour de France, I ran backup the bridge to pick up what I saw was Mike’s camera. Then, in double quick time, I legged it back to the CV just getting out of the way of the traffic before it swept past me. Sadly the camera had been crushed by a lorry but I think the memory card has survived so hopefully Mike will be able to retrieve his photos.<br />
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After the excitement of my little spot of running I had a fairly hard chase to catch up with the group. It took me about five miles of fast, hard pedalling to make the catch which I did thanks to temporary traffic lights at some roadworks. Then it was a relatively easy ride to Jacksonville and the second SAG where sweet, cool watermelon was laid on to revive us. We then continued to head east through yet more cornfields before stopping in the intriguingly named New Berlin for some chocolate milk to boost our energy levels. The village was founded in 1865, not surprisingly by a group of German immigrants. Like many villages we have stopped in, the people here were incredibly friendly. There was a group of elderly men who took an immediate interest in what we were doing and quizzed us about the route, today and over the whole tour, as well as our motivations for riding it. IN the space of only a few short minutes we were made to feel very welcome and valued. Bridget and her friend (whose name I didn’t get) who were running the store/gas station also took a keen interest in us and wished us well on the rest of our ride to Springfield. Time and time again I have been amazed at our friendly and sincere are the people who we meet en route. It really does add an extra level of enjoyment to our riding.<br />
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The final leg to Springfield passed without incident. Springfield is the state capital of Illinois and boasts a number of claims to fame. Abraham Lincoln lived here from 1837 to 1861, when he practiced law, before becoming President. His Presidential library and his tomb are here. The city also played an important role during the Civil War and the first recorded death, Colonel Elmer E Ellsworth, was a Springfield resident.<br />
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More recently Springfield, Illinois is also reputed to be one of the settings for The Simpsons. However, a cursory browse on the Interweb suggests, to me at least, this this might not be quite as clear cut as it seems. Indeed, the programme’s creator Matt Groening, muddies the waters with his comments being widely interpreted and, I suspect, misinterpreted. Well, whatever the reality, there seems to be no shortage of entertainment in reading the various theories, and maybe even some conspiracies.<br />
<br />Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2310761408992994260.post-42254509491827921502018-06-10T20:30:00.000+01:002018-06-11T03:11:31.626+01:00USA Tour Stage 26: Kirksville, MO to Quincy, IL (75 Miles)I’m starting today’s report with some very sad news. One of the tour team, Mike, unfortunately had a serious accident yesterday and was airlifted to hospital. While the full details are still unclear it appears that he collapsed and crashed whilst going downhill resulting in a head injury. I understand that he is being well-looked after in hospital and that his family are with him. As you can imagine, the mood today was rather subdued. Mike was one of the older riders on the tour and although I hardly knew him I was constantly impressed at his ability to keep going under all circumstances. He came across, to me at least, as quite a private person, comfortable in his own company and happy to ride solo. Whenever I passed him on the road I always said hello and invariably received a nod and a smile back. A couple of days ago he sat with me at breakfast and unusually for him started a conversation by telling me that he had been reading this blog and thought I might be interested in the writings of another cycling tourist in the USA and Europe. I gave him my email address and later that day he sent me a message with some links to the rider concerned. So I am writing today’s report with a heavy heart and dedicating it to Mike. He is with all of us in spirit, and I know that my fellow riders and the tour crew extend their thoughts and good wishes to Mike and his family at this difficult time.<br />
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After yesterday’s tough stage on the rollers in the heat and humidity, today was something of a transition stage. By common consensus, and with another century stage tomorrow, we had decided to rein it in a bit and ride easy. The ‘we’ here comprised The Fabs (Pete, Emil and myself) with the addition of a couple guest artistes in the shape of Kathy (aka Person Number Three) who comes from San Francisco, and Bruce who hails from Nashville. We set the tempo and tapped out a good rhythm on the tarmac. At school assembly this morning, Headteacher Paula had flagged up three milestones on the route which I will tell you about presently.<br />
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Most of the day was spent on quiet roads, quieter than usual because today was Sunday. Despite our plan to hold back we found ourselves making excellent progress, aided by a light tailwind. Along the way we passed over the intriguingly named Troublesome Creek and I stopped to get the requisite photograph. The scenery for much of today’s stage wasn’t that special – mostly unremarkable rather than unattractive, but certainly lacking yesterday’s splendour. One early highlight was that we were passed by an Amish man driving a horse and cart. We exchanged friendly greetings as we passed by each other. I understand that as we progress eastwards we will see more Amish people and I am really looking forward to this and to seeing their villages and farms. In the era of fast living and high technology, I am keen to observe a little more of their traditionalist approach to life.<br />
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Our first milestone coincided approximately with the SAG. We’ve now completed 2,000 miles on our journey from Los Angeles. Only 1,400 miles to go! So there was a clamour to get the necessary photos for the scrapbook. At one point I am sure I saw Itchytoo holding at least six iPhones to take the necessary pictures. It seems like an eon ago that we left Riverside in California to embark on the tour. So much has happened since we left – lots of scenery, lots of sweat, and lots of satisfaction. For me though, the most precious part of tour are the friendships and the sense of a shared objective, a common purpose, that brings us together, and even, sometimes, a shared struggle to complete each stage. There seems to be a bond developing between us that is going to carry us all the way to Boston, and I hope in a few cases, beyond Boston.<br />
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From the SAG we still had another 35 miles to go to reach the stage finish in Quincy. So we clipped in and pedalled out whereupon the skies opened and down came the rain. Big warm droplets of the stuff. Now I guess I was a little premature with yesterday’s boast about no rain but I can say that today’s rain was ‘nice rain’ if there’s such a thing. Unlike Britain where the rain is usually cold, the high temperatures and warm road surfaces meant that, for me at least, it didn’t detract from the ride. If anything it improved it by slightly lowering the humidity a tad. I never thought I would claim that rain could improve a ride! Anyway, after a couple of showers, the second of which we sought shelter from in a handy gas station, the roads quickly dried up and blue skies emerged. Apart from slightly squidgy socks and mud-splattered bikes there were no lasting effects.<br />
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Milestones two and three came upon us in short order. First up, we crossed the mighty Mississippi River. Crossing this marked a critical stage in our journey east. The river, the second longest in the US flows for 2,300 miles from Lake Itasca in northern Minnesota to Gulf of Mexico by New Orleans. The river has played a defining role throughout American history, both as a natural barrier and also as a strategic communications and transportation link. So in addition to completing 2,000 miles today I also felt a strong sense of progress east. Will it be all ‘downhill’ from here? I very much doubt it!<br />
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Our third milestone was passing out of Missouri and into Illinois, our eighth state on the tour. As we crossed over, pausing to take a photo of both the State sign and the Quincy city limits sign, we paused to look back at the river. I couldn’t help thinking of Paul Robeson’s rich baritone voice singing ‘Ol Man River’ which contrasts the endless flow of the river with the struggles and hardships of African Americans. Describes by many as one of the most hauntingly beautiful songs of the last century, I paused and gathered my own thoughts and reflections once again. I can’t wait to continue our journey east tomorrow. Feel free to join me for the next instalment in what for me is proving to be a life enriching experience …<br />
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Late news: a video has emerged of my antics yesterday. If you really want to see what I got up to then I’ve posted a link at the appropriate point. This may not be the last time I do a tour dance…<br />
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Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2310761408992994260.post-12366662813415248712018-06-09T19:00:00.000+01:002018-06-11T02:59:59.304+01:00USA Tour Stage 25: Chillicothe to Kirksville, MO (75 Miles)<a href="https://www.relive.cc/view/1628050431" target="_blank">Click here</a> for route flyby<br />
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Today’s report picks up where yesterday’s finished – rollers, lots of rollers. In fact 148 rollers so I am told. We rolled out of Chillicothe along US36E heading for Brookfield, 36 miles away. Above us, grey clouds and heavy air suggested a change in the weather might be on the way. The air even felt wet, if you can imagine that. Ahead of us lay an angry yellow sky with sunbeams and showers falling on the horizon. Amazingly we haven’t had any rain on the road since we left LA nearly one month ago. I’m going to repeat that for the benefit of my British cycling chums. WE HAVEN’T HAD ANY RAIN FOR NEARLY A MONTH! Looking at the daily weather forecasts we seem to have had the most extraordinary luck as our route has meandered eastwards around some pretty severe weather.<br />
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As we rode along on a quiet early Saturday morning I found myself thinking of a song by The Doors – Riders on the Storm from their iconic album, L.A. Woman. It opens with the sound of rain falling and after a few seconds John Densmore and Robby Krieger lay down a rolling pattern on percussion and guitar before Ray Manzarek comes in on electric piano with a melody that sets the pattern for the song. After about 45 seconds Jim Morrison joins in with the simplest of lyrics delivered in his languid style. The song is hugely atmospheric and over the next 7 minutes it grows and builds to a fabulous conclusion. If you haven’t heard it, then give it a listen. It properly captures what I was feeling this morning on US36E.<br />
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Once again today we were really lucky and the stormy weather dissipated leaving blue skies, hot sun and that strength sapping humidity. It seems as if Zeus, the god of clouds, rain, thunder and lightning is keeping a distance from us – for now at least!<br />
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A couple of miles before we left the highway I had the misfortune to suffer a rear wheel puncture, my first for several days, the cause being another of those tiny truck tyre blow out wires. With help from Pete I was soon up and running again (we’ve had a lot of practice) and we turned off at Brookfield for a water refill stop, a sort of halfway house SAG. From here we were onto the roller coaster road. Always up or down and rarely level. To give you a sense of the route here’s a picture of the route profile. This only hints at the challenge. You’ll need to ride the road to get its full measure.<br />
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A combination of gradients which varied between 2% and 10%, the hot sun and high humidity slowly sucked the energy out of my legs. I also realised that I was drinking significantly more water and electrolyte energy drink than I normally do. And I was sweating buckets – my jersey and base layer were drenched. On the positive side, the landscape was outstanding. The rolling terrain, a mix of open fields – arable and grazing, trees, hedgerows and woods meant that there was lots to look at and take in. I passed countless delightful properties – farms and ranches as well as houses, many of which were tucked away in the woods. They all gave the appearance of an extremely well-managed countryside. Add to this the quiet, well surfaced roads and once again this was another day of excellent, if challenging riding.<br />
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Pete had a minor mechanical when his drivetrain appeared to be slipping which made gear changes to cope with the gradients very difficult. Initially the cause seemed to be rear wheel through axle bolt which was loose. Closer inspection at the end of the stage with the assistance of Rick, the tour mechanic, revealed a faulty free hub so he’ll need to get it looked at on our next rest day in a couple of days time at Champaign. Meanwhile with Rick’s assistance he’s good to go.<br />
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Riding along it dawned on me that this would be a great route for a road race, or better still, a stage on a multi-day tour. I could imagine a small group going up the road and quickly gaining a few minutes once they were out if sight of the peloton which would coast along behind them. Perhaps even a couple of daredevil breaks for glory from the lead group. Would they reach the finishing line before being swept up by the peloton with a sprint finish to decide the result? I could see a few motorcycles with tv cameras and a helicopter or two hovering above. I am sure this would make for exciting viewing. Normally, I find watching live road racing a tad dull and prefer to catch up with the edited highlights. Today’s road seemed to me to have loads of potential to showcase some fast, furious and exciting professional racing. I wonder where I’ve put Christian Prudhomme’s ‘phone number? (For non cycling readers he’s the head honcho of the Tour de France, which, incidentally is almost upon us. Will the Froomedog complete his quintet of victories to join the greats?)<br />
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Like most of the tour team, today by the time I reached the SAG at 50 miles I felt rather flat. Paula was on hand with a cup of fresh fruit salad which, as if by magic, provided just I needed to boost my energy levels. It’s these little surprises that can make such a difference on a tough day. As I chowed down my apple, grapes, melon and orange I sensed that everyone around me was feeling a bit flat. Normally we are a fairly lively bunch, keen to share our insights on the day so far – especially with riders we don’t see often. There is usually a lot of happy chatter. Today it was a bit quieter. John, who I quite often catch up with at SAGs, observed that it was 25 miles to the finish. Quick as a flash he persuaded Mary to load up the Edwin Starr song on her iPhone. Do you know it? Here’s a few lines:<br />
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<i>Hey hey uh huh huh huh huh oh</i><br />
<i>Uh huh huh huh huh huh yeah</i><br />
<i>It’s twenty five miles from home</i><br />
<i>Girl, my feet are hurting mighty bad …..</i><br />
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<i>…. I got a five more miles to go</i><br />
<i>Now over the hill and just around the bend</i><br />
<i>Huh although my feet are tired I can’t lose my stride</i><br />
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Well guess what happened? Before I could say “Huck Finn” my legs started twitching and I was up on the picnic table giving it large in full boogie mode. Well, I like to feel that I caught the moment but maybe the smiles and the laughter were just a polite response to yet another of the Captain’s eccentricities. I’m told that there’s a video clip of the performance. I may someday post a link here. Or I may not! (<a href="https://drive.google.com/open?id=1m8pVD-0BYFm3MtZB-K3QSvtncGpvpu2n" target="_blank">Click here</a> to see the evidence for yourself.)<br />
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Anyway it did the trick for me and I completed the last 25 miles. I was really glad to reach the hotel in Kirksville and although this had been a tough day, after a shower and a swim it was also a very satisfying one. I reflected on a job well done and the 148 rollers conquered. Or was it 149?<br />
<br />Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2310761408992994260.post-89786754966929522002018-06-08T20:00:00.000+01:002018-06-09T03:19:02.969+01:00USA Tour Stage 24: St. Joseph to Chillicothe, MO (87 Miles)<a href="https://www.relive.cc/view/1625833257" target="_blank">Click here</a> for ride flyby<br />
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If yesterday’s riding was a little disappointing, today at least it was much more rewarding. Sunny skies, albeit in very humid conditions and a route that was mostly on quiet roads rolling through lush green countryside was precisely the recipe for an enjoyable day’s riding. Rolling was probably the word that best captured the essence of the day – a succession of short and usually not too steep climbs and descents. I say ‘usually’ because every once in a while a sharp little ascent would creep up on me and give my leg muscles an extra workout.<br />
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The critical factor in riding these rolling climbs is to select the right gear ratio at the right time. Too high for too long and it gets tough – changing down under load gets risky with the possibility of shipping the chain or worse still breaking it. I’ve never had the misfortune to personally suffer a chain break in this situation though I have seen it happen to other riders. Shipping or breaking the chain, the end result is usually the same : the ignominy of falling off, often in front of other riders.<br />
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Choose too low a gear too soon and you loose the advantage of any momentum gained on the preceding descent. It sounds easy but based on my experience today it is not. Climbs which look gentle from afar hold many surprises – a steeper or longer than expected gradient and perhaps worst of all, a false summit. Get it right and it’s really rewarding riding. Get it wrong and it can be both demoralising, especially on a long stage, or strength sapping on a hot humid day like today. I reckon I did OK today with I estimate an 80% success rate.<br />
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I also spent some time today riding solo and I enjoyed the chance to immerse myself in my own quiet reflections and thoughts. Reflections on the tour so far and thoughts of the people I have ridden with, including those who have now left the tour. As I have written, and will surely write again, good routes make good tours and this is a good tour, but it’s some of the people who I ride with who transform a good tour into a great tour. So to my riding companions, past and present I say, in the time-honoured cycling way “chapeau”. You all know who you are from our conversations, and the great company I have enjoyed and shared with you on the road thus far.<br />
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Our route was generally eastwards and with the benefit of a light tailwind it was fairly easy going, climbs excepted. Our first SAG was at Maysville where we were accosted by a hack from the local paper who wanted to get a scoop on our tour for the DeKalb County Record-Herald. A small group of us lined up for a photocall outside the gas station. There was a stack of copies of the latest edition, published yesterday June 7, on the counter of the gas station shop. A cursory glance suggested the paper was an important source of local news and information – the leader was a report on the monthly meeting of the Osborn R-O School District. As far as I can ascertain, the paper is only published in print form, bucking the trend back home in Britain to move increasingly towards Interweb publication. It wonder if we will make next week’s edition.<br />
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From Maysville we continued along the rolling roads until we joined a particularly rough, busy and unpleasant stretch of State Route 6 for around 15 miles. Once we turned off this we were back on proper quieter roads again with the rollers. A succession of long, straight transects meant that there were some spectacular views of the route ahead which often looked like a ribbon had been laid down stretching into the distance several miles ahead. The green and well-tree’d landscapes with, increasingly, fields of maize in between the delightful farm houses made for exhilarating viewing.<br />
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Gradually as we closed on our destination the density of properties increased and at around 85 miles we turned on to State Route 66 after pausing to take the customary end of stage town sign photo. As we turned on to the main road I looked back over my shoulder. It almost felt like I was exiting through some gates and leaving a magical world behind me. The last few miles had been especially enjoyable. Tough riding yes, on some of the steepest climbs of the day. But rewarding riding too – very rewarding.<br />
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Chillicothe, and there was some debate in the peloton as to the correct pronunciation of the name (I’m not going there readers) is derived from the Shawnee language – meaning “big town” referring to a settlement about a mile from the present day city. Chillicothe’s claim to fame is that it is the “Home of Sliced Bread”. In 1928 the Chillicothe Baking Company began selling pre-sliced bread through local grocers – apparently the first time that pre-sliced bread was sold commercially in the world.<br />
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In a break from the usual routine Pete and I got haircuts once I had showered and changed. For $13 and an interesting chat with folk in the barber shop I got a nice neat number 3 which should set me up for the rest of the tour. And guess what? I’ve heard that it’s rollers again tomorrow. 148 of them to be precise. I can’t wait!<br />
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<br />Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2310761408992994260.post-226411151606386902018-06-07T20:00:00.000+01:002018-06-08T02:01:53.428+01:00USA Tour Stage 23: Topeka, KS to St Joseph, MO (85 Miles)<a href="https://www.relive.cc/view/1623945897" target="_blank">Click here</a> for route flyby.<br />
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Unfortunately today’s stage didn’t quite live up to my expectations. Having enjoyed some outstanding riding on quiet minor roads yesterday I was hoping for more of the same today. Instead we found ourselves on some bigger roads with shoulders and rather more traffic, including a few drivers who were up there with the worst on the tour so far – honking their horns and passing us with the minimum distance. We also had a bit of cloud cover, a lightish headwind and the humidity wasn’t quite as fierce as yesterday. For me the best few bits of the stage were the first few miles and the last few miles. In between, well Pete summed it up nicely: “There’s not a lot to photograph!”<br />
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Our route from Topeka was quite interesting. Basically we left hotel kit land in the capable hands off the elves and rode into and then across the heart of the city along some lovely leafy roads and past a nice assortment of residential architecture. The roads were quite busy until we reached the centre of the city when we started riding against the flow of traffic i.e. people going to work. As we arrived in Topeka yesterday, Pete and I had been on the lookout of for our customary photo stop with the city limits sign but didn’t see one. So, I was delighted when paused at a traffic light, to feel a nudge from the CV who nodded towards a rather fine sign straddling the road. The lights were red so I was able to grab a shot for the collection. Pete’s already cheated and downloaded one from the Interweb!<br />
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We carried on across Topeka and through the suburbs until we reached State Route 4 which we then rode along for the next 30 miles, passing through the first SAG along the way. I had a spot of fun before this as I pulled over for a brief goss with Robin and Mary who were on support duties today, leaving Pete and Emil to head off up a gentle climb and over the horizon. I then set off in pursuit and once I had reached the top of the incline I got on to the drop bars, wound it up through the gears and went full gas for about 3 miles, eventually catching Pete and Emil shortly before the SAG. Then another 25 miles took us to the next SAG and a cooing milkshake at a Dairy Queen.<br />
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From there it was a short hop, skip and a jump to Atchison and the muddy Missouri River to say ‘Goodbye Kansas’ which has been our home over the last 6days. A couple of signs caught my eye. The bridge across the Missouri was named after Amelia Earhart, the aviator, who I subsequently discovered was born in Atchison in 1897. The house she was born in was built in 1861 in a Gothic Revival style (work that one out for yourself) and is now preserved as a historic building with a museum.<br />
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The other sign that caught my eye was a reference to Lewis and Clark and a nearby State Park named after them. This set me thinking. I have heard about them and their explorations but I didn’t know much more. With some Giggling on the Interweb I am now much better informed. Their pioneering expedition between 1804 and 1806 was focussed very much on exploring, understanding and documenting the territories of western America for the purposes of trade and sovereignty. What really surprised me when I started reading about their expedition was how relatively recently their work has been properly recognised in contemporary history writings. One hundred years after their travels many of their achievements were reported at a fairly superficial level. A complete set of their diaries was only published in 2004 to celebrate the bicentennial of their explorations. I plan to find out more after the tour is finished – I sense some fascinating reading …<br />
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Almost as soon as we had crossed over into Missouri the road surface took a turn for the worse. Rough tarmac and potholes made me feel that I had suddenly been transported back to Britain! So for the next 10 miles we ground our way along until after a quick stop for a cold drink, we arrived at the outskirts of St Joseph. From there we rode along the South West Parkway which was a delight. A lovely smooth surface, which with a few switchbacks and rolling hills amongst a green, well-tree’d and evidently affluent landscape was pure pleasure to ride. This struck me as the perfect place for crit racing. If only! Even the minor inconvenience of a front wheel puncture made little difference. In 5 minutes with some help from Emil and Pete I was rolling again. Eventually we reached the outskirts of ‘modern’ St Joseph and our hotel. And guess what? Those darned elves had beaten us again!<br />
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<br />Captain Centuryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17277017328485933061noreply@blogger.com0