The ride started at 6 AM under warm conditions, mid 40s, and a light rain. All of the usual suspects were present, Jim, Philippe, Terry, the fast rando guys, Del, Mike Bingle, Michael Wolfe (rides a recumbent), Sam and a huge swath of riders I didn’t know. In the past, Sam has started fast so it’s best to sit in his draft and get pulled along for the first few miles. This 300K was no different and I enjoyed the big draft, thanks Sam.
Just outside of Forest Grove, right before a quarter mile downhill, Michael W passed either Sam or I, I don’t remember who was on the front, and sped down the hill. Since it was still dark, I wasn’t in the mood to chase him. Terry who was riding behind me gently rode by and got in Michael’s draft. Before I knew it, there was a big gap, which took about a half a mile to close. That effort thinned out the group significantly.
On Gales Creek, the group worked well and we were going so fast that most everyone took off their rain jackets. Terry was on the front and I was just behind him as we made the left turn onto the Wilson River Highway. Terry took a nice long big pull and I followed suit. This part of the Wilson is really fun when it is warm and dry – there is usually a tail wind and you can really rail it through here, spin a 53x13. We had to make a short jaunt up on Timber Road to get our cards signed and then head back to the Wilson. As we rode to the checkpoint, I noticed that we were missing a few people, Jim, Sam and Michael. Dang, it sure would have been nice to have their power in the group. The checkpoint came just as we started up the second little hill; darn I was just getting into a good climbing rhythm, oh well, there would be a lot more climbing to come.
Philippe mentioned that he was going to drop back on the climb to the top of the Coast Range on the Wilson River Highway. Philippe has done so many of these rides he must know exactly how his body is going to respond. As much as I’d like to cajole him to stay with us because he is such a great guy on these rides, I know that he understands what his body can handle a lot better than me. And just as he said, as the pace increased on the climb, he dropped back.
That left just Terry, Mike, Del, a guy I’d never ridden with from Bend, Vince and myself. As we climbed, Vince would go hard on the steeper parts and then ease off on the flatter portions. After a few of those kinds of pulls my dander was up as this is not how to keep a group together and we were splintering. So after one of those kinds of pulls I decided that I would take a long pull at the same intensity and see what would happen. Vince fell off, Mike Bingle almost stayed on, Del I think had fallen off on the previous pull and of course, Terry was always right there. We kind of regrouped but eventually it was just Terry and I for the last few miles to the summit.
After the summit, Terry and I worked very well together taking about five minute pulls. About five miles down the descent my rear derailleur cable broke. Terry the ever-thoughtful guy figured that we can stop in Tillamook and replace it. I wasn’t sure there was a bike shop in Tillamook and it seemed unlikely that it would be open so early. I figured I’d have to ride a 39x12 or 53x12 for the rest of the ride. We got our cards signed at the Shell station in Tillamook and bought some drink. Terry out of the blue spots the bike shop and yes it was open! Yes, they had a derailleur cable! Only $2!! Sweeeeeeeet! After a little prying, I got the old cable stump out of the lever, installed the new one and waited a bit as a gal rummaged around to find a wire cutter. In the meantime, Terry went back to the Shell station because he thought he’d left his gloves over there – turns out, he’d tucked them under the front of his jersey. Terry helped check the cable adjustment, which turned out to be good and off we go. That took about 15 minutes, just enough time for the group behind to catch back up.
We regrouped with Del, Vince and Mike for a bit and then Terry and I took a nature break catching back quickly. The tide was out and you could see the great expanse of mud in the bay. Right after the bay we started climbing on varied surfaced roads, I’m glad we were going up and not down. Riding the road that hugs the coast along Netarts is always fun and reminds me that there is more climbing to come. The group was working well until we hit the climbs. Vince started to ramp up the intensity again only this time Del was the only victim.
The descent after the long climb isn’t super technical but the road is dodgy so it was great that Terry led the way. A little after the descent, I was feeling good and took a long pull on the lumpy road along the coast and soon enough we were in Pacific City getting our cards signed and buying food and drink. Terry got a ham and cheese sandwich, I’d noticed before that he had some Newmie food too, pop tarts. I was content to eat just Cliff Bars.
After Pacific City, we headed up the Little Nestucca River Road, following the Reach the Beach route in reverse. After a nature break, we began the first of the climbs back to the Valley. Mike took a good pull that I think really drained him. Then after Terry pulled, Vince pulled hard up a slightly stepper section and then slowed down on a flat section, getting my dander up again. Maybe I need to grow up or chill more but when he slowed down on the flat section, I passed him keeping the same intensity he had on the steeper section. Terry said that he watched and it was like an alien spaceship picked Vince up and moved him back a quarter of a mile. I think Vince’s pull dropped Mike too. That left Terry and I to do the remaining 80+ miles together, good deal as it would be hard to pick a better rider for a long ride.
Terry and I worked well together and quickly entered Grande Ronde taking a different route to 18 than I’d done before. Luckily, we got off 18 quickly as there is very little shoulder and concrete barriers on both sides of the road. We meandered up to Amity following the Yamhill a bit, where we bought more food and drink. Amity is my Bermuda triangle. Reading the signs doesn’t usually help; no, I don’t want to go to McMinnville and no, I don’t want to go to Rickreall or Salem and for some reason I can’t seem to get any sense of North, South, East or West. Terry read the cue sheet and off we go the correct way.
We both remember stretches along the way to Amity and Dayton; the exposed areas where people would die in the crosswind on Reach the Beach and the train tracks that caused crashes in the cold rain. Soon enough we were in Dayton and then back up to Lafayette. I didn’t eat enough while riding to Amity and I could tell that I’m slowing down and the music in my head has stopped. Terry is as strong as ever and takes longer pulls knowing how close we are. He tells me there are only 20 something miles remaining, which seemed too short, as I know we have to do long stretches on North Valley and Spring Hill roads.
Terry mentions that we should take shorter pulls and I try one, trying to keep his intensity. I started to laugh at how pathetic I feel, my legs are empty and I can’t even muscle up the top of an easy roller. Terry takes a pull and I start to feel better. We both get a sense of urgency, as we are so close. We both hit the gas on the end of Spring Hill, Fern Hill and HWY 47. For some reason I thought we had to ride on HWY 8 to get back to the lodge but its right in front of us, sweet, we’re done!
The day before I figured we could do it in 11 hours and we did even better. Not bad for fixing a broken derailleur cable and something like eight stops.
Thanks Terry for finding the bike shop, waiting for the fix, navigating, taking long steady pulls and being one heck of an awesome rondo rider.
