Musings on the 100+ Mile 2011 Gran Fondo

UPDATE 10/4/11: Chafed Nipples. (almost forgot, but remembered today for reasons that should be apparent)

I rode my mountain bike more than a hundred miles for the first time yesterday in Levi’s Gran Fondo.  I don’t own a road bike - I’m a casual rider - I usually ride dirt trails once or twice a week.  This ride is special, though - I knew this much.  It was just something I had to try.  Here are my thoughts, in no particular order:

There is a lot of weed growing in them-there hills!  Every 15 or 20 minutes (no joke), the discerning nose could sense the pungent odor of nearby marijuana gardens.  At one point, I was passing someone who was fixing a flat and I suggested with a wink, “Whew! That’s strong” to the knowing response “Yeah, I’m getting a contact high here!”

I saw more than 50 people changing flat tires throughout the day.  I should have kept count.  Which brings me to an accidental journalist's apology: Doing anything like an interview, keeping count, or notes on names of people, I would learn, is next to impossible when your brain and your body are completely focused on making it over the next hill.  The best I could do in the Extreme Exertion haze is use my iPhone to take occasional photos and videos - forgive me?

Starting line anticipation - looking towards the end of the lineup:

Riding a bicycle with thousands of other people riding bicycles on largely closed roads is a serious kick in the pants.  What a blast.

Note to self:
Cowpies on dry roads are no big deal. Cowpies on wet roads should really be avoided.  In fact, can we just outlaw poop on public roads altogether, please?

There’s lots of quiet time riding on the Sonoma County roads.  Despite being surrounded by other people almost constantly.  

Going uphill usually means very little talking - everybody is huffing & puffing their way to the top of the climb - occasionally someone would even remark on it "sure is quiet here!" - to exasperated laughter.  There are occasional folks (self included) with iPhones belting out tunes from their microscopic personal speakers - and as much as I thought the crowd might be annoyed with my music choices, I heard nothing but grateful words!  The cadence of a beat, any beat, helps, they said.  

One of the steeper pitches on King Ridge Road:

Hauser Bridge Road, at the very Northernmost midpoint of the Gran route is what I call HAIRBALL, and it was in full regalia on Saturday, October 1st, 2011.  The road has no shoulders, gravel and dry redwood fronds scattered randomly, and steep cliff dropoffs which amount to what I call a huge penalty for failure.  Imagine this road being wet, very slippery.  Imagine it being one lane & twice or three times as twisty as highway 29 near Mt. St. Helena.  Imagine riding a skinny tired bike, with questionable brakes (at best) down its extremely steep 20% grade.  At the bottom of the road, the steepest point, just before the steel, single lane bridge, is a hairpin turn.  The Hauser Bridge descent claimed many unexpecting people on this day.  Three of them had to be airlifted out.  It’s no joke.  

To the volunteer who sternly exclaimed “YOU WILL DISMOUNT YOUR BIKES AND WALK OVER THE BRIDGE!” - you did a marvelous job.  

Biting wind and buckshot rain in my face near the very high point on King Ridge Road is what made this ride feel like living.

Much colder & wetter than it looks, this is the top of Fort Ross Road at the Ritchey Ranch Lunch stop:

I wish I had thought to count the mass of people who came out streetside to watch & cheer me on (yes - they cheered ME on).  From the neighborhoods in Santa Rosa, to the porch in Cazadero and, boggling my mind, in lounge chairs set beside the road in the middle of nowhere, deep into King Ridge Road.  There was a cadre of bell ringing supporters around every corner - such a wonderful feeling of community.  The most impressive, if forced to pick, had to be the Cazadero bell ringers - led by none other than Charlotte Berry who, with her husband, is proprietor of the town hardware store and classic jeep collector’s heaven:

But there's a new problem - I fell in love in Cazadero.  I’m left wondering if there’s a first-right-of-refusal list for this gorgeous green little beauty:

At the halfway point I had to make a decision: down the hill 1 mile to my home, hot shower, warm fireplace & a full fridge of beer?  
I kept going.  I think I did the right thing.  My 1994 Ibis Szazbo in its native environs:

Amidst 7499 other cyclists, I was surprised to find that I knew & recognized more of the army of volunteers than the cyclists!  The charities and beneficiaries of the Gran Fondo are truly lucky to have such great people at the helm, and all the way through & through the event.  Not many people are making their living putting on the ride - and our community is pretty lucky for it.

Willow Creek Road - A true bike rider's Alternate Route:

Highway 1 had a stiff Southerly headwind blowing - making the decision to ride the new Willow Creek Road alternative to Highway 1 & Coleman Valley Road a no-brainer.  What most people didn’t realize was what a treat it is to ride closed-to-cars doubletrack dirt.  Add to that the fact that it was a solitary time amidst redwoods - heavenly.  

Eight hours, fifty six minutes:

102 miles took me almost exactly 9 hours...  My takeaway, however, is a mind full of great memories, beautiful sights, sounds, smells (ahem), and knowing that I can do it - you can, too.  It’s not that hard.  I'm ready for next year.  Thanks Levi.

Looks like I know what I'll be doing on my next birthday:

Which is also to say, I'm going to need to find someone to manage the Lemonade Stand next year.   This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it ?  All proceeds to benefit Fort Ross Elementary School and this little pedaler:

Reporting - Community Voices