You don't need a Weatherman



how old is he in this shot?



..to know which way the wind blows sang Bob Dylan, and we didn't need a weatherman in Houston last Friday to tell us it was raining.  A front blew through bringing an inch or more of rain, golf-ball sized hail and all the rest.  We hunkered down but Paddy and Crawford had planned a ride and went ahead regardless, getting in just before the worst hit.

Saturday had the potential for more of the same, making our ride planning a bit more tricky.  Kevin
wanted to ride the Sealy route, Lee was in and Larry a possible, but we agreed to look at the weather first thing and decide.  This meant that I would get up at 6 with a very good chance of just going back to bed, not my ideal Saturday but I wanted to get a ride in this weekend if possible.

Came the morning and I crawled out of bed to check my new smartphone for messages from Kevin and the weather forecast.  Kevin was good to go but it was a toss-up between Sealy or Zube (where the front would arrive a little later).  The plan was to congregate at my house and take Kevin's car, presumably deciding on our destination by the time we hit I-10.

The sky was overcast but not very threatening and seemed to be clearing to the west, so we opted for Sealy.      We were not to be joined by Mr.Larry Knox today - he had already cried off, expecting bad weather.  How wrong he was, and how much ammunition for verbal abuse did he provide in the process?

We arrived at Sealy and geared up under a perfect, crisp blue sky, just great weather for a ride.  There was a stiffish wind from the north that would make the outward leg a little difficult but would give us a "Golden God" moment on the stretch home.

One minor concern with all the rain was that one section that has a low creek crossing would be flooded.  When we arrived it was indeed under water (never seen that before!) but we had no problem getting through.  Lots of birds along the way including several scissor-tails (my fave bird ever!) and two large raptors on a power line that Kevin thought were caracaras.  My bird book suggests that he was right, great spot Bassman!

We took a break at the feed store and for once the staff and clientele were moderately friendly.  Normally we get the could shoulder but not this time.  Back at it, all feeling strong, still not a cloud in sight.  We encountered minor canine troubles along the next section but they weren't out for blood today.

I was doing my best to keep a high cadence and it seemed to help, particularly on the climbs, where I was able to at least pace Kevin.  Soon enough we were back on the road to Cat Spring, running straight into the wind, so we formed a paceline (with Kevin in the front as always).  We took a second water break at the usual spot just before the hilly section and then had at it.

For a while I kept in touch with Kevin by blowing past him on the descents and trying to work the climbs but soon enough he opened a commanding gap.  Lee kept with me, though.  The climbs that always kick my butt did it once again but I made it through reasonably well.    We regrouped at the junction with Route 36 and settled in for a fun cruise downwind on smooth asphalt.

I made a joke about expecting a pro-style lead-out train, and as we reached the outskirts of Sealy Lee obliged, pushing the pace to 26mph so that I could blow by and take the sprint finish.  Sadly though he was too strong and dropped me without realizing it with half a mile to go.

Back at the car (still under blazing sunshine!) we chatted for a while with a local who was very friendly and seemed pleased that we liked his city.  Then off home for beers.  You missed a great ride, Larry.

Go Beer!

lunch in Bellville.  Go Beer!

And so the time came for the Big Ride.  Saturday morning, way too early, saw me drop David off at the start to get Marshalling, then eat a good breakfast (steel-cut oats with pistachios, cranberries and maple syrup, thanks Honey) before Kevin arrived.  We saddled up and got going on a pretty cold morning (40-ish but clear).

The weather forecast was about the best you could hope for - a bit chilly but a tail wind under clear skies.  We began to feel the tail wind (and the steel-cut oats) pretty quickly, bowling along at 20+mph without any major effort.

We had joined the St. Arnold Brewery team again and were resplendent in our Pumpkinator jerseys, much admired by all.  The St. Arnold's group isn't really a conventional team - we don't know most of our team-mates - but we found out early on that they have a slogan - "Go Beer!" - that you shout whenever you pass another team-mate, and they reply in kind.

Although we were held up for a bit behind a nasty-looking wreck, we still got into Bellville for lunch very early and had a good break.  We hooked up with Tom, Kevin's long-time riding partner, who was riding with his 12 year-old son this time.  They had started from Waller and were feeling pretty good, but with some rough sections ahead they were expecting to sag at least once, so we decided to go ahead separately.

Sure enough, the next section - Industry to Fayetteville - was a butt-kicker, even under perfect conditions.  Either I hadn't trained enough or burned too much juice in the morning rush or both, but by the time we climbed Rek Hill I was blown.  The run through Fayetteville was a boost as always - the entire town comes out and cheers - but I was definitely running on empty.

I got an accidental break when Kevin and I got separated in traffic.  I was ahead but he didn't catch me and I was concerned he might have got into trouble, so I pulled over to wait.  Meanwhile he thought he was in front and had lost me - so he stopped too!  We both waited, then separately decided to ride to the next rest-stop.  I got there first and Kevin pulled up just behind me.

the domestique wanted M&M's, he got jelly-beans

The last ten miles were tough, with some good rollers and (for the first time that day) a head-wind.  I was very glad to make the final turn onto route 77 and run the last mile or so to the finish.  Great fun coming down the chute, high-fiving all the spectators, then we found the St.Arnold's volunteer, who gave us a beer and told us how to get to the team tent.

I was feeling pretty bad, tired and a little nauseous, so I found my gear, assembled my cot and sleeping pad and lay down for a while.  After about 20 minutes I was feeling well enough to get up, grab some snacks and another beer and sit with Kevin for a debrief.  We were in mid-bullshit when Taylor appeared - a former co-worker at BHP and Mule, she jumped ship a while ago and was volunteering for the team.

With the beers done it was shower time.  As a member of the 300 Club I get the use of an exclusive shower facility (hosted by the Texas Baptist Men, a disaster relief group), while poor Kevin had to wait in line with the peons.  I chatted with another club member during the very short wait - his wife also has MS and is in a wheelchair.  This disease sucks.

Back at the tent and another beer before dinner.  The cooks had done some boudin to keep our stomachs quiet and I scarfed down a couple of chunks - hot, greasy, spicy and absolutely delicious.   Kevin got back and then it was dinner time - brisket and smoked chicken tacos, wonderful post-ride food.  While we stood in line I got chatting with another rider and his wife and they turned out to be the most interesting couple.  We sat down with them to eat and had a lot of laughs.  Chris and Berky showed up and joined the fun for a while.

Dinner done, and we had enough energy to wander through the camp.  We watched the band for a while, then walked over to the Bluffs where I was finally able to get enough signal to phone Susan.  And so to bed...

My cot and sleeping pad were surprisingly comfortable, and paired with Susan's super-duper silicon earplugs (wonder why she buys them?  Maybe the birds and squirrels are very loud during her afternoon nap) they allowed me to sleep pretty well, if fitfully.  I woke up before the 5am alarm, but not much.

wriggle, wriggle, wriggle

St. Arnold's supplies a breakfast of kolaches, pigs-in-a-blanket and coffee, but we decided to treat ourselves to the pancakes cooked by volunteers for everyone.  Fantastic but as usual my eyes were bigger than my belly.  Time to get into the cycling gear and strike camp.  Getting dressed was a little interesting, as there were no "modesty pods" available, so we had to squirm into our bike shorts inside our sleeping bags, as Kevin demonstrates in the pic.

Dressed, packed, bags on the truck, tires pumped up and time to get in line for the start.  Fortunately it was at least 10 degrees warmer than yesterday morning and we were both comfortable without any extra gear.  It took nearly an hour but we finally got rolling on another beautiful morning.

The route was pretty familiar - we start with a long descent and a series of shortish, sharpish climbs, one of which has the famous bagpiper (in full highland rig!) serenading us.  The next section is mostly flat but pretty soon we got into serious rollers and then came - the Big Hill!  The long, steep descent near Smithville is a feature of the ride and I was waiting to see how Kevin would fare on his sexy new Roubaix.  I got a good start but ran into some traffic and had to hit the brakes a little.  I topped out at 37mph and zipped past Kevin near the base of the hill.

A long run out and then into the Parks, for me the biggest physical challenge of the event.  I was going ok but then managed to throw my chain by shifting too dramatically and had to stop and fix it.  This of course happened halfway up a stiff climb and I had a hard time getting going.  I plugged away, enjoying the new road surface, but gun-shy of my granny gear due to the chain-throw.  This meant that I had to grind out a few  sections, out of the saddle, grunting through every pedal stroke.  I managed to get to the top without stopping every time but the extra exertion wore me down.

Into Bastrop State Park and I couldn't believe how much damage had been done by the wildfires.  The route looked completely different, like a moonscape, not the lush woodland I remembered.  I know that fires are part of the cycle for pine forests but I doubt it will look the same again while I'm still doing the ride.

I hooked up with Kevin (the master climber had dropped me like a bad habit, and the chain throw hadn't helped) and we ground out the last climb before starting the gentle run into Bastrop for lunch.  I wasn't ready for food but I was certainly in need of a break.  We got in touch with Tom, who had also just arrived (he started early with the Club 300 and took the shorter lunch express route) and strategized the last 30 miles into Austin, always a bit anti-climactic, for me anyway.

Thanks to my buddy Kevin Chang for this great shot

Tom and John had been rolling along at 12mph (10mph on climbs) and stopping at every break point.  This sounded great to me - I was blown, my foot hurt and my shoulders were aching - and Kevin wanted to ride as a group, so off we went.  I took the lead and tried to keep the pace down, but was surprised to see that when I crept up to 14-15mph, John hung in right behind me.  What's more, he rode the downhills very strongly, and climbed like a champ, passing me on a couple of hills.

On one stretch we passed this eccentric (Kevin Chang got this shot at the finish).  That might be the oddest thing I've ever seen on a bike.  Didn't look very safe I have to say.

Soon enough we reached Austin and found ourselves on the final run down to the finish.  We put John in the lead but I rode on his shoulder.  All his family were there to cheer him in, a great sight.  I rode down the chute near the crowd, high-fiving all the way (the best part of the ride for me), then it was through the finish line and done, thank goodness.

woo-hoo!

We gathered for one last hand-shake, then Kevin and I got beers and a box lunch at the tent, and I headed off for the VIP showers.  A good long soak later, I jumped onto a bus to Houston.  The trip took forever due to heavy traffic and construction and I didn't get in until 8pm.  James collected me and I arrived to a hero's welcome and a fabulous curry dinner.  That's number 10 done, and I passed $100,000 lifetime fundraising in the process.  Time to think about number 11 - or maybe hang up my cleats?

The best laid plans...

Last weekend before the big ride, and both Kevin and I wanted to get some miles in, but he was playing with both his bands at the Wirt Road UU Church music fest and needed to be back in town by noon.  So the plan: an early start at Zube, the standard 45 mile loop and if there was time and inclination a few bonus miles at the end.

Came the morning (way too early), Kevin rolled up at 6.15 and off we went.  I usually take it upon myself to provide an "ear-worm" - a catchy piece of music that sticks in your ear during the ride, and today's choice was Jethro Tull's flute-heavy version of Bouree (on their Stand Up album).   Courtesy of Wikipedia I now know that this piece was written by Bach as Bouree in E minor for Lute, and a bouree is a french dance.  Anyway, Kevin was pleased with the choice - turns out he's a Tull fan, having seen them live twice in the 70's.

Sadly we got to listen to most of the album, because 290 was closed for construction at Bauer, about two exits before Zube, and we found ourselves on the access road going nowhere fast.  We finally got to Zube at about 7.00am, about 5 minutes before Paddy pulled up with the Mules trailer.  A quick hand-shake and then we were off, on a beautiful, if cool morning.

Kevin was clearly feeling his oats and pushed the pace early on.  With the benefit of my GPS I could see just  how fast we were going and was able to rein him back to 18 mph, already a hot average for me.

An uneventful run out to the gas station, although the NWCC fast group caught us at about mile 20, and the gas station got very busy with bikes while we refuelled.

Back at it and Kevin was charging again.  Rule number one for a domestique - don't drop the team leader!  We were at Waller in no time, and I took Kevin onto the Old Houston Highway, a two-lane blacktop that runs parallel to Business 290 but has almost no traffic.  He took to it like a duck to water, despite the strong headwind we were now feeling, and set a steady 18mph pace.  I velcro'ed myself to his back wheel and was amazed at how quickly we got back to Hockley.

Despite the late start we were back in very good time.  Kevin was up for more but I was blown and cried off.  Against all odds we got lucky with traffic on the way home and were back by 11.30.

I enjoyed a nap after lunch and then Susan and I drove out to watch the first set - the Western Sky trio with Kevin on bass and backing vocals -great fun and a pleasant reminder that Houston isn't all suburbs, SUV's and strip malls.

Watch the birdie

Two weekends left before the MS150, so I needed some miles, but once again didn't fancy either of the organised rides this weekend.  Kevin was tied up with his band and unavailable, so it was another lone wolf ride for young Andrew.

I just got a new camera (Nikon Coolpix via Woot) and wanted to try and get some shots of the birds I see every ride, usually as we whiz by in a pace line.  Riding solo meant that I could stop and snap away if I felt like it.

swallows

Off to Zube then, on a clear morning with the wind off the Gulf already picking up.  As I was getting ready, a woman pulled up and introduced herself as a fellow mule (I was in the natty pink and black shirt).  Carol (for it was she) invited me to ride with her and some friends, so off we went.

I pretty quickly worked out that this gang was going faster than I planned!  Fortunately they weren't riding the standard route, giving me an excuse to pull off and drop the pace back to a more comfortable level.  I was also able to stop under a bridge and take a few shots of swallow nests (every bridge out here is lined with them).

Back at it with a good wind pushing me along.  I made good time but didn't see too much of an avian nature until I turned on Field Store, where two scissor-tailed flycatchers were just taking off from a fence line as I passed.  I would have stopped but I was cooking along with a tail wind and they were outta there anyway.

The turnaround point arrived too soon and I was grinding away, trying to keep the pace up into the teeth of the wind.  The run down Laneview always has something to see and today was no exception.  This chap was a perfect excuse for a breather.

A bit further on, I was treated to a spectacular display of no fewer than 5 scissor-tailed flycatchers, apparently in a mating ritual or courtship display.  Amazing to see, impossible to capture on film.  They eventually settled down together on a power line.  Gorgeous birds.

That moment of excitement lasted until the gas station where I made the usual stop for water and to strain the spuds.  Off again, this time full into the wind for a few miles down 359 until the turn west that takes you back to Hempstead (this was the 50 mile route).  I was rolling along with the cross wind and saw another rider going east who looked familiar.  I realised it was Tom, Kevin's friend and MS riding partner, with his son.  We stopped and chatted for a bit, both surprised at the coincidence.  Tom had planned to ride the Gran Fondo (today's big ride) but the traffic getting in had been too bad so he made up his own route.

Back at it and I made the turn north into Hempstead.  Lots of fun here, with a good tail wind and a smooth road.  Once in turn I turned east and rode through the unlovely main drag of the Waller County seat.  The east side of town has a couple of decent rollers to keep you busy, before settling into the slog along Business 290.

I jumped across the rail road and onto the Old Houston Highway, a two-lane blacktop that runs parallel to Business 290 but has much less traffic.  The wind was blowing hard but across me and the tree cover knocked it down a bit.

Just after Prairie View I spotted Tom and John on Business 290 and joined them.  They had parked in Waller and were heading in, so I rode with them for the last few miles they had.  Tom is a great guy, I really enjoyed chatting with him.

On my own again for the final stretch and I opened up a bit.  Back in Hockley I saw these fine fellows and couldn't resist a shot.

March Madness

Kevin and the gang did the Chappell Hill ride yesterday and it was a butt-kicker - a hilly course with a strong wind on the way in.  Sadly for me (or perhaps not ...) my bike was in the shop for some preventive maintenance so I had to pass.

I planned to take a gentle run around Terry Hershey and George Bush this morning, with a view to a longer ride with Kevin on Sunday.  I didn't set my alarm, expecting to sleep in until a reasonable time.  When I woke up it was still dark but I felt pretty good so got dressed and got going.  It was only after I'd started the coffee and turned on the radio that I saw it was only 5.45!  Hence the seasonal madness...

I took the lights off my commuter, put them on the newly-maintained, freshly bar-taped, new-chained Madone and set off down Memorial.  The donut shop was baking, a very enticing odour but their coffee isn't up to much.  By the time I hit the Dam the sun was more or less up and we were off to the races.

A fair amount of traffic (bicycle and runner) on the trail but everyone knows the drill and keeps to the right when you pass.  I had a good run all the way to Highland Knolls, under grey skies with the occasional splash of rain.

On the way back I kept pace with another rider, a young woman who was cooking along pretty well.  At a convenient point I moved ahead and cranked it up for the last half-mile of George Bush.  She hung with me and we exchanged smiles when I eased back and she passed.

The day was marred a little by a very rude rider on a 29-er mountain bike.  He blew past me while I was waiting for some other riders to come through a gate, then after I passed him (calling out "on your left" very loudly) he went by without a word.  Very rude, very dangerous, very obnoxious.

I finished the ride on Terry Hershey rather than back down Memorial, basically to take it easy and wind down a bit.  Wildflowers are out in full force!

I bet this never happens to Lord Grantham

what my domestique did on his day off

I didn't get a chance to catch up with Kevin or Lee last week to sort out some weekend riding, so I was at a loss when Saturday rolled around.  The Mules were doing a recommended ride in Magnolia, basically halfway to Dallas, but that didn't appeal.  The Tour de Houston was on Sunday but I didn't fancy that either - crap roads, boring route.  In the end I stayed in bed on Saturday and dragged my aged carcass to Zube on Sunday morning.

I rolled up at 8.30 or so, no sign of the Mules trailer but Sean's truck (complete with "running sucks" sticker) was there.  He of course was long gone.  I got all dolled up, turned on the Garmin and hit the road, straight into the teeth of a screaming wind from the south.

I didn't have to fight it for long though, the route is mostly north and I flew along in fine style, with of course a sense of impending doom - before too long I'd be coming back, probably one entire chain ring slower.

Not many wildflowers to be seen, sadly - a little early in the year but we've had so little rain, I suspect they won't get much better.  Halfway down Laneview, normally wildflower paradise in the spring, I got "chased" by perhaps the crappest dog I've ever seen on a bike.  He looked like a collie/chihuahua cross, with a normal-sized torso suspended on teeny-tiny little legs.  He barked at me and gave chase - but from the other side of the road, clearly he was not allowed to cross.  I yelled at him half-heartedly and put on a bit of a spurt but we were both going through the motions.

After the usual gas station break I put my best pedal forward and prepared for the upwind slog.  It was a grind but in the end not that bad, clearly all the saddle time is having a beneficial effect.  I got back with an average speed of just under 16mph, really not bad under the circumstances.

I later learned from Kevin that he had spent the day helping right over-turned canoes in the Buffalo Bayou regatta.  Once a domestique, always a domestique, even on his day off.

Golden Gods

I am a Golden God!

A mostly-new route for Kevin and me last week.  We had just done Sealy and didn't fancy Zube (there was an organized ride, too many fanny-packs blocking the road), so I fired up Map My Ride and looked for a route out of Pattison that would avoid the busy roads.

My previous attempt at modifying an existing route did not go well (see last week's blog entry!) and I later realized that Map My Ride had us going cross-country for about 1/2 a mile.  Can't really blame it for the crap, dog-infested road though.  This time I hedged my bets by sticking mainly to farm-to-market roads - more traffic but also better surfaces.  It looked like we could go north on 359 almost to Hempstead, and then come south on 362.  I loaded up the Garmin and off we went.

I have taken to bringing some music with me for the car, in the hope of planting a new ear-worm for the ride.  Last week was Pink Floyd's first (and best!) offering, Piper at the Gates of Dawn - didn't go down so well as it happens.  This week I brought Kevin Ayers' last album, The Unfairground, partly because it's good but mostly because Kevin, one of the founder members of Soft Machine, died recently at 68.  It worked for me, I had one of the tunes in my head all morning.

One drawback of rides out of Pattison is that we park up at the high school and there is nowhere for a legal pee.  We saddled up (chilly morning, lots of gear) and headed out, expecting to take a bio-break fairly quickly.  A few miles in we spotted a mini-market and decided the time was right to pump ship.  Sadly they had no public rest-rooms and we were faced with riding further on full bladders or taking a discrete wild wee.  I marched over to a small thicket which offered just a little cover, and with some misgivings Kevin joined me.

Back on the road and we had barely gone a mile before a State Trooper went by.  We waved, glad that he hadn't finished his donut a little earlier and driven by when we were in flagrante so to speak.

359 was busy, with a lot of heavy traffic, but there was a good surface and a wide shoulder.  The bigger problem was the wind, straight down our throats and blowing half a gale.  We agreed to share the workload and I suggested quite short pulls before rotating.  This worked OK but as usual we got split up on all the climbs.  We caught up with another group of 3 riders and I tried to get them to share the load but they weren't very forthcoming and Kevin wasn't keen on drafting behind total strangers.

A bit more slog and then the turn east appeared on the Garmin.  We made it and then stopped for a mid-ride breather, pretty much in the middle of nowhere.  Back at it and we turned south  - and the fun began.  With a smooth surface and a hellacious tailwind we were blowing and going, 20+mph without feeling a thing.  At one point Kevin made a crack about being a "Golden God" - a quote from the movie "Almost Famous".  For those who haven't seen it, the scene in question occurs when the aspiring guitar hero Russell trips on acid, climbs onto the roof of a house and shouts "I am a Golden God" before leaping into the swimming pool.  We were Golden Gods but on nothing stronger than cycling-induced endorphins.

We got into some rollers and I had the temerity to challenge Kevin on a couple.  I did OK but eventually discretion became the better part of valour and I resumed the normal, "wait for me at the top" position.  By this time it was pretty clear that we were off the planned route, but we were going south and it seemed likely that we would hit 362 sooner or later.

And indeed we did, just north of the intersection with 529, a section that is on the MS route (although Kevin didn't recognise it).  The last time I rode here it was during the last, ill-fated Cheeseburger Classic, when I crashed and burned.  No risk of that today, with a tailwind and a strong pair of legs.  A little further and we were back at the start, 44 miles at an average of 17.9mph - pretty good under the conditions.  I think we're Almost Ready, if not Almost Famous.