Wasco Wild West 75 Tour/Race Ride Report
When the opportunity came up to take one of my bents over to The Dalles for the WWW75, I immediately decided to complicate issues and road tour over to the races. My bike building shop is here in Boise, and it didn’t look like too far to go. The tour ride would strengthen my legs for the race (I reasoned), and it had been too long, almost a year, since I got out and toured on one of my bikes. Besides, what better way to participate in an HPV event that to ride to it?
The bike I rode was the Bender Bolero model, a LWB under seat steering machine with rear suspension. Since this was also going to be the race bike, I took along a set of Velocity Thracian wheels and Schwalbe Stelvio tires for the event- the tour was done on Velocity Cliff Hanger/Taipan wheels and Schwalbe Marathon tires. Since I was going to be camping and pulling a BOB trailer, the choice of the heavier wheels and tires for touring was an easy one to make, although next time I'll use the Marathon Plus tires for the added puncture protection. The bike also had a set of panniers, and a seat back bag, and fenders.
The BOB load weighed 52 pounds, including the race wheels and tires. I didn’t weigh the panniers and seat back bag, but I would guess that I had another 20 to 25 pounds distributed there. To total up the loads, I get- bike 32 pounds, BOB Ibex trailer 15 pounds, trailer load 52 pounds, panniers and seat back bag 25 pounds, for a total weight of approximately 124 pounds. In race trim, this bike weighs less than 29 pounds.
Day 1- Tuesday, May 3rd
Boise (Garden City) to Vale, Oregon
Day’s distance- 73.5 miles, 5 hours 34minutes, 13.2 average, 29.7 max
Due to an existing obligation, I couldn’t depart Boise until 2PM, a rather late start. The terrain was about as flat as it could be, with just a few gentle rollers, and very light winds. It didn’t take long for me to shed the pre-trip worries, and just enjoy the ride. I accepted the fact that there were lots of things that I had no control over, and any of them could interfere with the travel and put the race out of reach. So be it. I would enjoy the ride, relish the outdoor time, and let the chips fall where they may.
I stayed at the Prospector RV park in Vale, where there were showers and a laundry and a lawn area for my tent. Not much scenery on this leg, but I knew there were some great things in store.
I woke about 3AM to the sound of rain on the tent….
Day 2- Wednesday, May 4th
Vale to Dixie Summit on Route 19
Day’s distance- 93.7 miles, 9 hours 25 minutes, 9.9 average, 39.2 max
Total distance- 167.2
The rain broke long enough for me to have breakfast and ruefully pack up my soggy gear. For the first 20 miles it looked like the weather might break, and I even got a chance to stop for a bit and spread out my wet camp gear- 20 minutes of sun probably took 10 pounds of water weight out of my load. However, the clouds soon closed in, and from mid-morning on it rained persistently, and a couple of times poured vigorously.
But the weather wasn’t the worst of it- actually, riding in the rain is not all that unpleasant, if you’re dressed for it and it’s not cold. But the route this day was through the mountains, and I climbed 5 passes of at least 1500 feet vertical each, along with innumerable significant rollers. By the end of the day I was spent, and had to stop every ½ mile or so to gather the gumption to continue. It was very beautiful riding, a good road with fair shoulders and little traffic, the broad valleys of the morning slowly giving way to steeper forests and wonderful moist piney air. I love how the world goes by at the pace of the bicycle- not so fast that you miss anything, and not so slowly that the mind wanders.
The rain stopped just as I was making camp and having dinner, for which I was very grateful, but then started again to chase me into the tent for the night. I was hobbling, my right Achilles tendon was hurting and tight, but otherwise I came through a tough day in pretty good shape. At one point, I stumbled against the bike/trailer rig and knocked it over onto my tent. DOH!
Day 3- Thursday, May 5th
Dixie Summit to Shelton Wayside, all along Route 19
Day’s distance- 115.1 miles, 9 hours 30 minutes, 12.1 average, 32 max
Total distance- 282.3
Once again a lucky break in the weather for breakfast- man, it’s tough to get a day started when it rains on your tea and oatmeal. But as soon as I was saddled up and rolling, the sky opened up and it poured with an impressive intensity. The first 2 miles completed the steep climb over Dixie summit, and then there was a very fast descent for the 15 mile run into Prairie City, a good two lane road with little traffic which was important- my visibility was way down with the wet glasses and mist, and the braking action was poor. I had one disc brake in the rear, and the next time I ride with a heavy tour load I will also mount a disc in the front.
Immediately upon arriving in Prairie City the sky cleared, and it didn’t rain again until I was making camp in the evening. This was very fortunate, as the scenery this day was magnificent. Route 19 follows the John Day River, which has carved it’s way through the red desert rock. The land takes amazing shapes, prominence and bluffs of widely varying colors, overlaid with tress and shrubs and gasses that paint greens to the ruddy hues of the soil. All the while the river bubbles gently by, the slow and persistent agent of all this beauty.
I knew that I would be following the gentle contours of the river, and so it had seemed reasonable to plan a long day, more than a hundred miles. But I could tell my speeds were off, and I knew that I was not really pushing very hard on the pedals. Now both Achilles tendons were sore and swollen, and the right one was hot.
Again, the steepest part of the day was right at the end, a long climb to the campground. Jeez, who planned this route, anyway?
Day 4- Friday, May 6th
Shelton Wayside to the Deschutes River Recreation Area
Day’s distance- 85.8 miles, 10 hours 13 minutes, 8.3 average, 37.4 max
Total distance- 368.1
Light rain this morning as I broke camp, but the sky soon cleared and the day
was dry. A couple of long climbs early as the road pressed north, culminating in
the rise to the town of Condon, where I stopped for a snack at the nice little
city park.
Here I turned west, and immediately the 20+ MPH gusting westerly winds became a
direct headwind. When I planned this trip, I knew that I would be riding into
the prevailing winds, but before this day the rain had been the most significant
part of the weather. Today it proved that the winds had simply been saving their
strength for an all-out assault.
The hills just west of Condon sprout an enormous wind farm, and they were
very busy this day.
The long blades of the turbines bent back gracefully towards the tips, and I
could just imagine the watts pouring forth from the generators. I had watts of
my own pouring forth, as the wind quickly got stronger, until I was facing a 45
MPH direct headwind, with higher- sometimes much higher- gusts. The road was not
very good, as it had next to nothing for shoulder, and then rolled off
immediately into small loose gravel.
Every car and truck that went by caused a terrible disturbance in the wind,
first lightening the force for a moment and causing a swerve towards the traffic
lane, and then slapping me with a re-doubled blast that knocked me towards the
gravel. I watched my level ground speeds drop from 12 to 9 to 6, and was
dismayed to find that there were steep grades on the road that were not
indicated on the map. Low-low gears, grinding up sheer-walled wind-funneling
creek valleys, with not the slightest hope of a wind break anywhere. I pushed
hard to maintain a 3 MPH steerageway up the grades, and I was frequently,
repeatedly, blown off the road and into the gravel. Check out this
MUST SEE! AVI file, a
six-second movie clip with audio if you think I'm exaggerating the headwinds!
After a couple of hours I became aware of the psychological burdens that arrive with exposure to such winds- I struggled mightily to keep my spirits up. A smarter person would have turned around, but I kept thinking that winds that strong surely couldn’t last, right? And then they’d get a little stronger, and I’d push a little harder, and concentrate on keeping the bike upright. The closer I got to the Columbia River George, the harder the winds blew.
At one point near the end of the afternoon I was descending a VERY steep section of road, following the last creek as it dropped into the Columbia. Without the wind, I am certain that I would have had to drag the brakes to keep the bike and trailer under 40, but I came around a corner that was channeling the wind, and got struck full in the face with a tremendous blast. I pulled the helmet back onto my head, straightened my glasses, and with astonishment watched my speed drop from 20 to 10 in just a couple of seconds; I was hard on the pedals to ride a steep downhill, which is pure cycling insanity.
There were 60 miles ridden into that terrible wind that afternoon.
This was the day before the race.
Day 5- Saturday, May 7th
Race Day!
Deschutes River Recreation Area to The Dalles Comfort Inn
Day’s distance- 91 miles (includes race mileage) , elapsed time, average, and max not recorded
Trip total distance- 459.1
From the beautiful campground where the Deschutes River joins the Columbia to
the start/finish line at the Petersburg School was 18.5 miles. (If you should
camp there pick your tent site carefully.
This campground is home to about half the country’s strategic supply of goose
poo.) I tried to convince myself that pulling the BOB trailer this distance
before the race was a warm up, but my Achilles tendons weren’t buying it. The
wind was strong as soon as the sun came up- not as strong as the day before, but
enough to give me the creeps.
The only way to the race site included several miles along I-84, my first
travel along side the interstate. Nice broad shoulders here, but tons of
traffic.
I found that by hugging the guardrail I could enjoy some reduction in the winds,
but this only works when the wind is at a slight angle, and often the wind was
directly on my nose. Anyway, it took quite a bit longer, and much more energy,
to get to the race site than I had anticipated.
Once at the race site I met Clay Smith, the organizer, who told me I was an animal for having toured to the race site. Frankly, I felt more like an idiot, and I knew that I was in no condition physically to compete. However, the race is what I came for, so I grabbed a quick shower, filled out the registration forms, and started converting the bike from tour to race mode.
Off came the BOB trailer and skewer, the rear disc brake, both wheels and tires, the fenders and seat back bag, and the panniers and rack. On went the rim brake for the rear, and the race wheels and tires. (The full conversion would have included a different bottom bracket and crankset, but to save weight I had decided not to carry those parts.) I was still wiping the grease from my hands as I ran to attend the racers meeting, and then it was just a couple of minutes to the starting gun, which I used to apply sunscreen. Wow, doesn’t an old graybeard get a break somewhere? I didn’t even get to test ride the bike after the conversion and before the race, I just got it changed over and went directly to the starting line. After I started, I discovered that the computer wasn't recording any mileage, the wheel magnet had been knocked askew.
The sound of the starting gun was still echoing in the hills when I knew that I was not going to be competitive. There were some very serious racers on some seriously fast bikes there, and they simply disappeared. From last year’s race results I figured that I might be able to place if I could turn in an average of 18 MPH or better, and I knew that on local rides I had done that well on the full-suspension, fat-tired SWB Bender Radian that I normally ride. Why couldn’t I do that well on the LWB bike with the high-pressure tires? The answer to that question is an embarrassingly long list! I totally underestimated the level of the competition, and I totally exhausted myself just getting to the race site. While I could still make the pedals go around, I had no athleticism, no push, left in me.
I managed to hang with the last of the pack for the first lap, and then rode with the trikes for some of the second lap, but when the race leader passed me on the third lap I knew I was toast. With both Achilles burning (the right one had a weird gritty feel I didn't like at all), I started to wonder about the wisdom of pressing myself further for the race. For the first time since I started the trip, I thought about the return ride- who was going to tow all that shit back to Boise if I hurt myself now?
I pulled out after the third lap (of a scheduled four), and converted the
bike back to touring mode.
Day 6- Sunday, May 8th
The Dalles Comfort Inn
Food. Rest. Didn’t so much as throw a leg over the bike. Alternated soaking my lower legs in the Jacuzzi, and packing them with ice.
The Comfort Inn is a good supporter of the WWW75, and puts out a nice breakfast bar, which I hammered with a vengeance both mornings I was there.
Day 7- Monday, May 9th
The Dalles to Plymouth, WA, all along Route 14
Day’s distance- 102 miles, 8 hours 10 minutes, 12.3 average, 32.9 max
Total distance- 561.1
Decided that I would take 5 days to ride the return trip, instead of the 4 that I had done on the ride in. Now that the recumbent event was behind me, the only race I had to look forward to was the rat race. There was no reason to press, and every reason to take it easy and enjoy the ride.
I crossed the Columbia over the 197 bridge to get to Washington Highway 14, and wow is that road a treat! Nice new smooth asphalt, broad shoulders, and very little traffic. No rain, just a good overcast to keep the sun at bay. Danced with the thunderstorms that cooked up over on the south side of the river, but the prevailing winds kept them from crossing over to the north side, and they just added to the beauty of the ride. Awesome views of the gorge early in the day, back behind me, as the road ahead persistently flattened out. 10 to 15 MPH tailwind all day! I could ride under those conditions forever.
Stayed at a campground at Plymouth, and I was delighted to find that it had showers- usually it is only the commercial RV parks that have showers, not many state parks do. Not so delighted when the automatic sprinklers came on in the middle of the night, and no wimpy things they were, either. I have long carried a couple of folding vinyl buckets with me when I camp, as I have found them to be very useful for lots of different things. That night I used them upside down to cover the sprinklers, and nothing less would have worked, the water jets were very strong.
Day 8- Tuesday, May 10th
Plymouth, WA to La Grande, OR
Day’s distance- 93.8 miles, 10 hours 13 minutes, 9.2 average, 39.7 max
Total distance- 654.9
Crossed the Columbia river south bound, and struggled with traffic through
Umatilla and Hermiston. Got onto the old highway at the big town of Echo, and
then had a great morning’s ride gently climbing through the rolling hills, again
with a moderate tailwind.
The afternoon was a nightmare. I again was forced onto I-84 for a few miles, and then took the Mission exit at the foot of the Blue Mountains. This put me on the old highway for the climb through the mountains, and almost immediately it started to rain. Back into the rain gear, and down into the low gears as the benefits of my rest day at The Dalles faded into memory. Now it was my left Achilles that seemed to be having the most distress, and I made the 13 mile, 2500' climb to Deadman’s pass at less than 4 MPH. By then it was starting to get late in the afternoon, and the sky was dark with heavy clouds. It rained harder, and the temperature dropped to the point where I was expecting it to snow.
Then the old highway petered out, the way marked with ‘Dead End’ signs. Cold and tired with a long way yet to go to get to La Grande, the next town, I bit the bullet and returned to the interstate, not having the fortitude to go exploring for the remnants of the old highway when wet and tired. 35 miles of cold driving rain, and long steep rollers, and truck spray working into every nook and cranny. This was as bad as the headwind day! I kept myself going with the thought that I would stop at the first place that had a light on in La Grande- I hoped like hell it would be a motel! It felt like forever before I rolled into the All-American Inn, chosen because the sign said ‘in-room Jacuzzi’. The proprietors took pity on me, and cut me a deal for the room rate. I couldn’t even sign the credit card receipt, my hands were too cold to hold the pen.
30 minutes later, in a tub full of bubbling hot water, life started to get back to normal.
Day 9- Wednesday, May 11th
La Grande, OR to Baker, OR
Day’s distance- 55.8 miles, 4 hours 33 minutes, 12.2 average, 38.6 max
Total distance- 710.7
This was the day that I had planned on being home- as I had not been accounting for the rest day and the 5 day return. This was one of the best days I had on the tour. The gentle tailwind stayed with me, and the sky dawned with just enough overcast to keep the sun from being too hot.
The riding was near ideal- gentle rollers, old country highways, very little traffic. The morning brought a climb up a small creek valley, with a generous tailwind assist, and my notes for the day called it ‘a sweet climb’. I passed through the big town of Union on my way to North Powder. The old highway and the rail lines and the interstate braided their way along the route, trending gently downhill most of the rest of day.
I arrived in Baker City early in the afternoon, with enough time to pedal slowly about and look at the historic houses. I camped at the Mountain View RV park which had a big Jacuzzi and nice showers. My body began to rebound from all the stresses of the previous day, my appetite was monstrous, and I began to feel like I had some spring in my legs, despite the swelling.
Day 11- Thursday, May 12th
Baker City to Farewell Bend state park
Day’s distance- 54 miles, 4 hours 3 minutes, 13.3 average, 35.6 max
Total distance- 764.7
Another great days’ riding. My tailwind dropped away, to be replaced by strong sunshine- I was into the sun block all day long. The park here marks the spot where travelers on the Oregon Trail departed the friendly banks of the Snake River and started the difficult journey up into the mountains. I soaked my heels in the cool river water repeatedly, as both Achilles are now so swollen and I can’t see the knobs of my ankle bones anymore. I stumble around the camp site barely able to walk- but I can ride.
The last two days have been great, with good weather, fair winds, gentle terrain, and great scenery. It dawns on me that I’ll be home tomorrow, and I’m suddenly very sad that the tour is ending. My evening’s entertainment throughout the tour has been to pour over the map and plan my next days’ ride, looking for that little traveled road, the scenic town, the right spot to camp. In spite of the swelling in my ankles I felt that my old body had adjusted well to riding all day long, and I was deeply energized to have spent so much time outdoors. I was getting the feeling that I was learning how to do this road-tour thing right, and I could catalogue my mistakes and successes with an eye towards the next outing.
Why should any of that have to come to an end?
Day 11- Friday, May 13th
Farewell Bend to Eagle, ID
Day’s distance- 74.9 miles, 7 hours 18 minutes, 10.2 average, 34.9 max
Total distance- 839.6
Within a few miles the route takes me away from the river, and suddenly there is nothing much scenic to enjoy. Flat Idaho farmland, and roads that are arrow straight for miles. The sun is very hot in the cloudless sky, and I stop whenever possible for shade breaks, and to refresh the sun block.
There is a slight headwind, and it seems that the ride into Emmett takes much longer than it should. Knowing there are some climbs ahead, I get a snack and some orange juice, sitting on the concrete at the convenience store parking lot- a dose of modern civilization that I find most unpleasant.
I climb Old Freezout hill out of Emmett, and then cross the highway onto the gravel back roads for the last 12 miles that lead to my house. The hills are a struggle, not so much because I’m tired, but because I’m bummed out about the tour ending.
The gravel takes me over some very steep and short rollers, but shortly I’m cruising down the last hill to my 4 mile ‘driveway’, the dirt road that leads to my house. The neighbors are all out at my landlord’s horse ranch (I take daily care of 14 horses as part of my rent), and they are astonished when I tell them I’ve covered about 900 miles in 10 riding days. Instantly they are very concerned- am I OK, do I need a ride somewhere, they’ll take care of the horse chores for the weekend. They clearly doubt my sanity when I tell them I am going to ride into the shop in the morning, another 20 miles.
I wonder silently what they have done while I was gone. In our average daily lives, what is scenic, and beautiful, and athletic? What new places do we see? How much time spent outdoors? What friendly strangers do we meet, what bits of history re-lived? What do we accomplish that is truly difficult, to the point where we are certain we will fail, but persist, and nevertheless succeed? The tour has made it clear to me, the richness we forego for the sake of our distractions, and everyday comforts!
My heart is heavy with the return to normal life. I point the bike up the last steep quarter mile, certain that I wouldn’t trade a single minute of my last two weeks for anything.