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From: royce@ug.eds.com (Royce Myers) Subject: [STORY] Solvang/Santa Maria Century Date: Tue, 7 Mar 1995 21:23:16 GMT Solvang Century 4 March 95 Royce Myers "It is when I struggle to be brief that I become obscure." -- Quintus Horatius Flaccus (Horace) (65-8 BC) Last year's Solvang ride story was very brief. I won't make that error this year. The central coast of California has to be one of the best cycling areas anywhere. The scenery is superb and varied with rolling hills and lightly traveled winding roads. Rugged hills surround lush valleys; around every bend is a new vineyard, farm or livestock ranch. The sky in March is spectacular, with peaks shrouded in fog in the morning, sunny rainbows at midday and dark clouds drenching us with rain in the afternoon. I was riding a "new" bike on the ride. My old commuting bike had started to deteriorate -- its hubs and bottom bracket were wearing out and I bent the frame in an accident, so last January I bought a Master Ironman (circa '87), with an indexed six speed rear. I put on a new bottom bracket, and the triple crank and front derailleur were moved over from my old bike. This setup had 400 miles on it. Unfortunately the handlebar tape and the cable housing were pink, and I am not confident enough in my masculinity to ride a bike with pink accents. Also, a friend of mine gave me his aero bars, which I don't know how to use at all. So in the tradition of Pamela Blalock, I put on my old commuting handlebars (the anatomic kind, which has a more comfortable drop position), new tape, aero bars, cables and housing -- Wednesday before the ride . One day of commuting to make adjustments before the ride had to be enough. We stayed at the Flying Flags RV Park in a tent. If you like to camp and you're not afraid to get your tent wet, this is a good place to stay. There's a large lawn with evenly spaced picnic tables, a jacuzzi, a playground, a rec room and a bathroom with showers. $15 per night for two people and a car; we had three people ($2 extra) and two dogs ($0.50 extra each). We paid twice as much for that night's dinner as we paid for our lodgings. We got in early enough to get my ride map and bib number (#141), Friday night; as I signed the release I noticed that David Cortessi signed right ahead of me. That name rings a bell, but I don't know why. There were the usual warnings about law enforcement on the ride; the Sheriff's department was actively trying to ticket scofflaw cyclists. The CHP was trying to ensure a safe ride, and their services have been paid for by the ride organizers. The difference between these two departments was significant. My goal was to start early and ride fast. Last year we stayed 18 miles away in Lompoc, got a late start, rode leisurely and stopped for long rest stops. Sure, we had fun, but when we finished our pre-paid lunch coupons were worthless. This year I bought nothing in advance, stayed nearby and got off to an early start. I was using this ride to see if I was in adequate shape for the 200 mile Tour of the Canyons this April. 6:45: I'd been up for two hours, had two cups of freshly brewed Starbuck's coffee (I brought my camp stove for this reason) and one bagel. I was still full from the previous night's pre-ride meal (steak, bourbon and beer). My driver didn't ride this year; he chose to bring his wife and dogs and have a family outing. They dropped me off about a mile from the start which means they didn't have to hassle as much traffic and I didn't have to worry about crowds. There was probably someone taking pictures at the start, which is the only downside I can think of. I stopped at the first stop sign and followed the other riders. A couple in front of me blew the next stop sign while turning right, and a Sheriff hidden around the corner pulled them over. The deputy almost doored me as he got out, but I decided not to say anything. These people are not our friends. I led a pack down the hill, and started riding with someone who seemed both fast and competent. We were careful at every intersection, and we each took a pull until we caught a fast pack. We cruised with the pack until the first climb. I climbed well and descend better, but the pack was much faster than I. On one grade I started talking to a woman with a red polka dot jersey. "Aren't you supposed to be a climber with a jersey like that? [confused look] Or are you a sprinter?" I always get those two mixed up. "I like Diet Coke so my friends gave me this jersey," she explained. Our conversation was interrupted by the Highway Patrol. This was the worst CHP officer I saw; he sat in his car and told us not to pass, not to turn in front of cars, not to use the "traffic lane"; he made remarks like "you guys don't listen very well do you" or "that's it, you're safe ... for now". Later, someone passed me and I yelled, "hey -- stay out of the traffic lane". He started cussing me out until he saw me laughing. We couldn't trip the signal at Hwy 1 and 246. They disabled the pedestrian switch, so the event personnel manning the intersection couldn't trip it for us, and the highway patrol asked us to stay off the sensor. So there was a bottleneck at the stoplight relieved only when a car finally approached. I couldn't believe this. 8:10 [17.9 rolling avg] First rest stop and I felt great. I ate quickly and used the porta-johns. I noticed that there was a flush toilet at this rest stop which attracted a long line of female riders. I hadn't realized that there were so many women on the ride. I'd heard a grinding sound from my cranks when I was climbing, so I had the Trek sag guy take a look at it, but he doesn't find anything. I conclude that it's due to grit in my pedals (MKS SPD, also from my old commuting bike) and decided not to worry about it. On the flats I did OK. I felt good, but the wind was a problem. Four fast guys went by and I jumped on the back. Ah...20 mph into a headwind and I'm didn't have to work at all. They didn't rotate through, so I never took a pull. I almost felt guilty. As we entered Vandenburg Air Force base one guy flatted; another couldn't climb and the other two took off. I climbed well, and at the top felt a paceline coming up behind me. A tandem was drafting a single, and I latched on right behind. I loved tandems; we're doing 28 mph and passing everyone. Woosh! I heard someone call "ON YOUR RIGHT" behind me, and I held my line (we're almost at the centerline of the road, passing a pack of singles). The riders in the pack to my right all thought he was talking to them, apparently and moved to the left, narrowing the gap between our line and the pack. A very fast tandem passed to my right, and the stoker knocked me into the centerline. Somehow I stayed up through two seconds of reflector bumps. I slowed down to 24 mph and resigned myself to a place in the pack of singles, thankful to be upright. Just as I joined the pack another single got knocked into the centerline by this deadly tandem team, and although he, too, remained upright, his pump and waterbottle fell off in front of us. Avoiding this debris slowed me down to 19.5, and I fell off the pack. Or the pack broke up. Whatever. At this time, my feelings for tandems had reversed, and I would have been delighted to see the dangerous team repairing a flat, or better yet, thrown out of the ride. 9:39 [16.9 avg] I wonder why people insist on dragging their bikes through food lines; don't they realize how rude they are? I waited impatiently for one of the few restrooms provided at the Vandenburg sag stop, then continued my ride. My riding time is great. After a quick descent which bottomed out in a muddy, squishy side road, we climbed Vandenburg grade. A couple of tandems passed me on the grade, then immediately moved in front of me and slowed down. I had to waste energy passing them again. I eventually got stuck behind a very strong tandem couple; they went slower than I wanted to climb, but they were too fast for me to pass without burning up. Then the stoker took off her outer jersey and I began to think that maybe tandems aren't so bad after all. The rest of the climb went well, and the descent was pretty good. I achieved a record (on this bike) of 37.1 mph at some point. There were mild headwinds into Santa Maria and I started to tire. 11:03 [16.1 avg] I'm 58 miles into the ride and I feel OK. I was secretly hoping to get into a paceline and finish in seven hours, but the route profile showed that I haven't done any significant climbing yet. I considered getting a massage, but I didn't know if it would help or hurt the rest of the ride. As I left I noticed the strong tandem couple arriving. They both looked energetic, almost perky. My knee was hurting a little, but my time was great, so I just decided to ease up on the climbs. The climbs into Sisquoc were tough, but the descents were fun. I set a new max speed record (on this bike) at 38.7, but I didn't find this out until later. A CHP officer waves us through a stop sign on one descent, smiling and having a great time. I gave him a couple of dings on my bell and got his grin to grow. Descending into headwinds really sucks. I wanted to work with a couple of other riders, but I was too tired to be sociable and they turned out to be women riding alone. I assumed they wanted to stay that way and didn't try to draft or pace them. 12:04 I saw that strong tandem team pull into the rest stop as I left. They looked pretty tired; I wonder if they knew that the worst was yet to come. I still felt pretty good, but there was an awful 15 mile climb waiting for me. It wasn't steep, gaining only 900 feet total, but it was long and relentless. I started well, riding fast then slow, then standing to speed up again. I tried using my aerobars to stretch out, but I hit a bump and drifted off the road into the mud. I didn't fall, but I did stop for a few minutes to try and recover. A couple of people asked if I was OK, and I said yes, but I was tired. I checked the map and tried to figure out when this ordeal would end. It didn't appear to. I tried to get back on the street and realized for the first time how crowded this ride really is. The line of bikes went back for what looked like miles, so I wedged my way on the cement, knocked the mud off my cleats and started grinding again. As we passed the first peak and began descending the rain started, spoiling the descent. 1:28 I leaned my bike on a fence across from the rest stop, then ran in to get some food. Other cyclists were rude and unpleasant, often blocking the small tables with their bikes, making everyone behind them wait until they were done eating. I was getting really tired of inconsiderate cyclists like that first, pushy tandem captain. As I got on my bike I saw another tandem captain throw a banana peel over a fence into a private horse corral. I was disappointed in my riding time; I was hoping to get in before 2:30 this year, but there was ten miles to go, and it included "the wall". It started raining a little harder, but I left my windbreaker in my jersey pocket. I've got two jerseys on and I should be warm enough when I start climbing. As I descended from the rest stop I got really cold. I stopped and put on my windbreaker, and I didn't take it off for the rest of the ride. The "wall" isn't bad; your front wheel stays on the ground and your rear wheel doesn't slip if you stand. It's still hard, coming at mile 92. There were two more climbs, and the twisty, bumpy descents had stiff headwinds. On the last descent someone's personal sag vehicle blocked the entire road with enough room for one cyclist at a time to get past. This was on a steep descent with good sight lines which would have allowed us, for once, to achieve some speed. Again, rude behavior by one person spoilt a section of the ride for many of us. I rode at 12 mph, trying to fight the wind. Finally I caught up with a road bike drafting a mountain bike. The roadie was squirrely, zigzaging so wildly that I'm afraid to pass him. Finally I did, but it hurt. [2:50] There was one lane for cars and one lane for bikes on our way to the finish line. One motorist didn't understand this and positioned her car so that no bikes could get by, but she still had to wait for the car to her left. We rode behind her at about five miles an hour, yards from the finish. The guy in front of me wanted to get off his bike right under the Finish sign, not realizing that a huge line of cyclists had filled up behind him (thanks to the motorist blocking our way). "Don't stop! keep going past the cones!" I yelled. He heard me and kept going. The cones dumped us out conveniently right in front of the massage table, where someone looking very fresh tried to cut in front of me. I put my name in, parked my bike and walked around until I found a phone to call my ride. According to my Avocet 35, I rode 99.78 miles for a total time of 8:04 at an average rolling speed of 14.1 miles an hour. According to the ride sheet the mileage was 102.1, but I didn't start at the exact start, and my mileage was of exactly 0.9 miles short at the first rest stop. I know there are people who do this ride year after year. I've done it twice, and although the scenery is stunning and Solvang is a nice little city, I don't think I'll be doing this ride next year. The other cyclists are rude and dangerous, and the ride cost ($28) is too high for the food and support, although the latter was excellent. I thought sports massage was supposed to be hard and firm, but this was a soft massage. She rubbed my feet, though, and for that it was worth the $5 for 15 minutes. When I got back to my bike I found that it was knocked over. Guess what kind of bike had parked right next to it? -- Royce Myers Royce@ug.eds.com