100 Miles of Solitude (Not True)

This morning, I took part in the Haleiwa Metric Century ride (that's 100 kilometers, or around 62 miles for those not into the metric thing). But that is only a small part of the story. I decided to make a weekend out of it, seizing on the opportunity for some  additional training rides.

Haleiwa (pronounce hall-ey-eeva) is on the north shore of Oahu, where all the fabled big wave surfing beaches are. By April, the winter waves have died down, so it's a perfect time of year for a big bike ride up there. From my house, it's a 64 mile drive, about as far as you can drive in any one direction on Oahu. 64 miles is two miles beyond a metric century (do the math), so I decided to ride up to Haleiwa and stay the night with my friends Derek and Yvonne so that I could get to the starting line without having to get up at some ridiculous time.

The start of the Haleiwa Metric Century, from the HBL.org website

Derek Bickerton is a linguist, novelist, prolific writer (mostly in the field of linguistics), and raconteur. His wife Yvonne is an avid dancer, and on the night in question, she was hosting an advanced group of Scottish dancers. I've got Scottish ancestry, so I was willing to give the Scottish dancing a go if I was needed, but this group were far too advanced for me. So I enjoyed the music, watched the dancing, had a potluck dinner with them, and watched the sunset on the beach. Then early in the morning, I had a quick bite of breakfast, slipped out the door, and rode the three miles to the starting line for the bike ride. I'm grateful for the hospitality, and very glad that I didn't have to get up at 4:00 am.

Somehow, from among the 1000 registered riders, Hawaii bicyclist extraordinaire, Frank Smith found me. Two days earlier, we had been sitting side by side answering telephones at a Hawaii Public Radio fundraiser, and had promised to try to hook up for a few training rides. He had recently sold the bike shop that he had owned and run for years, and was now training for a return to RAGBRAI, The Register's Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa. For the most part, I found I could keep up with Frank, but there were times when he pulled ahead and disappeared down the road, and I had to wait for chance to bring us back together at the watering stations along the way. 

Frank's years around bicycles had given him a trained eye ... in fact, he probably recognized the bike I was riding on, since he was the one who had sold it to me several years earlier. Anyway, at one point, he pulled up beside me and said, "You realize your rear wheel is not true." Meaning, of course, that the wheel was getting a wobble to it. I ignored that for awhile, and finished the ride at a good pace, catching Frank one last time right at the finish line. Not true? There was a wheel there, it still worked, and in another few weeks, I would be picking up a new bike to ride across America. I wanted to ignore him, but when I got home, I looked at the wheel. It is basically unrideable, at least until I get it trued, probably at the same bike shop that Frank used to run. Gives new meaning to "What goes around, comes around."

Anyway, I had ridden a metric century two days in a row. But our Bike Trip America route includes a couple of 100 mile days, so I wanted a real century under my belt. I purposely did not reset my bike computer, nor the Strava tracker on my cell phone. Instead, I lay against a tree and propped my legs up to get rid of some of the lactic acid, then I had a good snack, refilled my water bottles, put my overnight handlebar bag back onto the bike, and set off solo along the same route we had just ridden ... Frank and I, and thousand of our best friends. Ten miles down the road, I ran into heavy rain, and pulled out my rain jacket...or more aptly, a water repellent jacket that breathes, meaning that it lets enough of the rain in that I got thoroughly soaked. But I was determined to do a century. I kept riding, untrue wheel, poor visibility, soaking shoes, heavy wet socks, gritty legs, waterlogged hands, fogged eye glasses. I rode until the rain stopped for awhile. I called my wife and asked her to meet me where I estimated I would reach 100 miles. And I rode on.

My estimate was pretty good. I was half a mile short when I reached my estimated century mark, so I rode around the block, then headed for Windward Mall, our agreed-upon meeting place. I got the Garmin over 100, then looked at my Strava tracker. 102 miles! Don't know why two computers come up with slightly different mileage for the same route, but either way, I'd made it. And then the heavens really opened, showing the wisdom of not riding all the way home. 

Tomorrow, I was scheduled to go for a Monday morning stretch your legs sort of ride. Instead, I will be heading down to Island Triathlon and Bike shop. A "not true" rear wheel is bit too Zen for me, and I don't want to find myself riding a unicycle across America, the way my friend Hinton did several years ago. But that's another story.

Weather, Whether You Like It or Not

Bicycling, as you know, is an outdoor sport. I'm sure you also know the old adage about the weather ... everyone complains about it, but nobody does anything about it. Today is Earth Day, so maybe it's time to do something about it.

This past Wednesday, I cycled up Tantalus, the high point in the hills above Honolulu. It was looking a bit rainy, and half way up the mountain, the clouds were closing in and the roads were wet. A light rain was falling. I paused, intending to turn around and go back down, but then I saw a break in the clouds further up the road, so decided to go for it. I reached the summit in glorious sunshine, and had a fast and dry descent.

Thursday, it was a day for gusty winds and the threat of more showers. We rode from Kahala through Hawaii Kai, through Waimanalo, then on to an early lunch in Kailua. Not much rain, reasonable winds, so I tacked on an extra trip to finish in Kahala, do a bit of shopping, then return to home in Hawaii Kai to bring my mileage above a metric century for the day.

Saturday, it was really windy. Strong gusts nearly picked me up coming around the Ka Iwi shoreline between Hanauma Bay and Sandy Beach. Fortunately, there was a five foot shoulder at the exact point where a sudden gust moved me three feet sideways. I had to return home quickly after lunch in Kailua, because we were supposed to be at a friend's house for a barbeque. The winds favored me, and I got back in time for a quick shower and off the the barbeque.

The point of all this? Exactly two months from yesterday, we will be dipping our tires in the Pacific Ocean near Astoria, Oregon, then rolling eastward on our 59-day journey. The first couple hundred miles, we are likely to see a bit of rain (the Oregon coast), a good bit of windy weather (the Columbia River gorge), a climb into the mountains (Montana) where there is always the chance that we could catch a few flakes of snow (admittedly rare in lat June), then across the plains where we could potentially see head winds, summer storms, or 100 degree temperatures, through places like Wisconsin where the mosquitoes dwell, and into the high humidity of the east coast. There's no way to predict in advance exactly what kind of weather we will encounter, but the weather always has an impact on bicycle rides.

Got to be ready for every eventuality, but at least we have a van that will carry the bulk of our equipment. For a specific day, we might need to carry along sunscreen, rain gear, bug repellent, extra fluid, a warm layer, a cool layer, and always, some chamois butter and chain lubricant.

To all my fellow cyclists, in all sorts of weather, the traditional bicyclist's toast:  May the wind be always at your back.

Whew! The Problem with Detours

Okay, it's not really a problem, and not really a detour. My friends Patricia and Nora have both recommended a particular ride to me, so I took a scenic route home today after a doctor's appointment. The scenic route is just referred to as Tantalus.

Tantalus is a hill climb. I think every serious biking community must have a hill that everyone tries out their teeth on. In Honolulu, that hill is Tantalus. When I lived near Santa Barbara, the hill was Gibraltar, and I never did manage to ride to the top of that one. In Aspen, the hill was Independence Pass, which I have done on skis but not on a bicycle.

The hardest part of Tantalus, for me, was just finding the bottom of hill. I went back and forth three times before I figure out that I was approaching from the wrong cross street. MapMyRide got me straightened out. You have to start by climbing the hill towards Punchbowl Cemetery, then across a small bridge. As soon as you cross the bridge, the hill starts climbing immediately ... never too steep, just enough to remind you to stay in a low gear.

Up past the older ramshackle houses at the bottom, then into the forests of monkeypod trees, banyans, bamboo, and a gazillion other trees and plants that flourish in a sub-tropical rainforest. The hill climbs, twists and turns, hair-pinning its way towards the skyline, past increasingly fancier houses, and increasingly dense rainforest. Roadside pullouts give a gorgeous view of downtown Honolulu, Waikiki, Diamond Head, the Pacific Ocean, the sky and clouds ... but who has time to stop? Got to keep the cranks turning.

I was passed five times by the same guy on a red motorcycle, going up and down practicing leaning into turns. I was easy prey ... I was still going up hill, still in low gear. I came to a long stretch that was slightly more level, and decided to do the "selfie" thing without breaking my pedaling rhythm. Here's the results, plus a bonus pic of a small part of the road ahead.

Of course, just as I was snapping my selfie, another cyclist pulled past me. The entire climb, I saw only two other cyclists, and perhaps five cars.

The only milepost I saw indicated that I had ridden 4 1/2 miles, and my Strava training log indicated that I had climbed nearly 1600 feet during that time. That's a bigger hill than anything we'll see next summer, so glad to have it under my belt.

I was waiting for a summit, but if there was one, it disappeared into the rainforest somewhere near the milepost. Almost imperceptibly at first, the road leveled, then I suddenly found myself hanging onto the brakes as I plummeted down the other side on Roundtop Drive. Hairpin after hairpin, left and right, sometimes dropping at nearly 45 degrees if you took an inside corner too sharply. Then a long straight stretch where I reached speeds approaching 40 mph even though I was feathering the brakes. Next time, maybe I'll be a bit faster, but hey! That pavement is flying by, and I don't want to suddenly find myself dodging a pothole at that sort of speed.

Going up, my legs were fine. Coming down, my hands started to ache from gripping the brake levers so constantly. And I had no idea where I would emerge once I got back into town. But soon, there was Makiki Park, and a couple of turns later, I found Punahou School (President Barak Obama's old stomping grounds), and from there, it was a familiar ride the rest of the way home.

At the end of the day, my log says that I rode 53.1 miles. You have to look at the small print to discover that I went from sea level to sea level, with 3000 feet of climbing in between, counting the hill over Tantalus, the hill over the shoulder of Diamond Head, and the hill up to Tripler Medical Center. And need I mention the gusty wind? Okay, I won't mention that.

The Problem with Training

The problem with training for a huge enterprise is ... that you are in training. You are not yet prepared. Between being out of shape two months ago, and being on the road just over two months from now, I have to get to the start line in good physical condition. One good reason ... half the riders will be less than 1/3 my age.

You learn a lot during training. How best to hydrate. Which muscles are inherently weak. How to monitor a group of riders while on the road. How to eat properly so that you can maintain a good level of calories for the journey, and so that you can recover quickly after a hard day of riding. And, how to keep injuries from slowing you down.

One day, when I first started riding with clip-in pedals (a few months back), I had to come to a quick stop, and before I could unclip, I found my bike and myself on the way to the ground. A bruised ego and a small scrape on the back of my leg where I came into contact with my chain ring. Now I know, if there is a hint of having to stop ahead, I prepare to unclip. Plus, I loosened my clips so that I don't have to tear my foot out of my shoe to get unclipped.

Still, there are small injuries. We stopped for coffee one day, and I noticed blood on my cycling glove. No idea where it came from, until I noticed a gouge on the outside of my wrist.  I must have scraped it on something, but my best guess ... we had, ten minutes earlier, passed the outdoor shooting range near Hanauma Bay and Sandy Beach. Had a ricochet grazed my arm? I certainly hope not. More likely, a car kicked up some loose road debris, or I had swiped my arm against a wall while parking my bike. Occam's Razor says it was the last option, the simplest, but I will never know.

More worrying, the fit of the bicycle. Right now, I'm riding a vintage Bianche Volpe that is showing a bit of rust. Everyone who sees it quotes the old adage, "Steel is real." Maybe so, but before I set out on my cross-country trek, I will be buying a new Trek, one that is lighter than the Bianche, and one that hopefully has a perfect fit for my size and strengths. My Bianche is great, but after two months of training, I've started noticing a good bout of sciatica. I can't keep up with dog when I take her for a walk, and occasionally, I'll get a leg spasm. As long as I'm in the saddle, I'm fine, but I want to be able to walk around the block with my soon-to-arrive grandson when I finish the ride across the USA. A good fit on the new bike should solve the problem, hopefully. I plan to arrive three weeks early so I can pick up the bike at Bikes and Beyond in Astoria, one of our generous sponsors. A good fitting bike is essential, especially when I'll be sitting on it and turning the cranks for 3500 miles or so.

By the way, if you want to be one of our sponsors, either as an individual or as a business entity, you can make a donation to Operation Comfort Warrior online. Tell them I sent you.

Pineapple Juice ... Thursday Training Ride

One of our group riders on yesterday's ride dubbed the morning as "Pineapple Juice." Sunshine and rain showers mixed together. That works, but it was more metaphor than fact. It was a cloudy morning, but there was more wind than rain, and fortunately not a lot of sun.

Thursdays are 50 mile days. A few of us gather near Kahala Elementary School...a few regulars, and a regular supply of out-o-town visitors who either rent bikes, borrow bikes, or bring their own. Some of the fold-up bikes can be carried as luggage on planes, and bike enthusiasts don't want to miss a few days of training. Yesterday, under the threat of rain and the promise of gusty winds, we set off with a dozen riders of varying abilities.

We always start off wandering through the Kahala neighborhood, bypassing the first couple of blocks of the Kalanianaole Highway (remember to pronounce all the vowels), then single file along the shoulder bike lane. The winds were gusting sometimes up to around 30 miles per hour, and the group split into four bunches depending on strength, ability, and desire. Everyone waits to regroup at the beach park in Hawaii Kai, then we choose a route to our next stop. Yesterday, because of the wind, I decided to go up Heartbreak Hill rather than facing the buffeting winds that can make for tricky riding around Hanauma Bay and along Sandy Beach. Then another steep hill takes everyone up to the lookout near Makapuu Lighthouse, where we pause for a group photo. By the time we reached Makapuu, we had lost two riders who had turned back after the fist break in Hawaii. We had to wait for our sweeper, who had stopped to lend a hand to some triathlon trainees, who it turns out ride without tools for fixing flats. Go figure. They're supposed to be the super cyclists, but they don't have the sense to carry the basics.

We head downhill from the Lighthouse overlook, through Waimanalo, and eventually regroup at a bike-friendly cafe in Kailua, where we have a nice brunch. On a good day, we can get there by 10:30, having set off from Kahala at 8:30.

The route back is slightly different. We head up near the steep palis (sheer volcanic cliffs) of the Koolau Mountains, then find our way along rolling back roads and through the farmlands that parallel the highway through Waimanalo. We avoid a lot of traffic by taking the back roads, and get a chance to socialize along the way.

The hill back up to the Makapuu Lighthouse is granny-gear steep ... I would guess it maybe maxes out at just over 10% grade...that keeps you so busy that it's difficult to peak off to the east, where you can frequently see the spouts of the whales getting ready to migrate north to Alaska for the summer. Whales of not, it's a whale of a hill. The other side offers a fast descent down a road that is long past due for a good re-paving. I always feather my brakes on the way down, but others hang on at over 40 mph, leaving me at the back of the pack by the time we reach the flat area near the Hawaii Kai Golf Course. I catch up around the time we turn towards heartbreak hill to head back into Hawaii Kai.

One thing you learn pretty quickly ... when the wind is behind you in one direction, it usually means it's in your face in the other direction. But not always. You have to stay alert for a sudden gust that can bring you to a near standstill, even when you are standing up on the pedals.

We follow the highway, taking alternative routes through neighborhoods when possible, and arrive back at Kahala Elementary tired, sweaty, sometimes wet, sometimes energized, with about 54 miles of riding behind us. Folks who live in the neighborhoods along the way drop off when we pass their street. Others take their time on the return journey, riding with the sweeper.

For me, my end-of-ride routine has recently changed because we just moved to a new home seven miles from the start-finish point. That means that my ride has not yet finished. I had back into the gustsy winds, and retrace the first few miles of our ride. The end result ... I've covered what will be our average distance every day for 59 days in a row this summer. A quick recovery between rides will be crucial to surviving the long consecutive days on the road.

Summer Vacation Dreamtime

Something I've always dreamed of ... crossing the United States under my own power! I first started dreaming about it when I was a kid, and the news was full of the story of a woman (Barbara Moore) who was walking coast to coast, trying to set a new record of something like 50 days. Someday, I'll do that, I promised myself. Eventually, walking became bicycling, and here it is the summer that I will turn 70. So I dusted off that old promise to myself, and started planning. And practicing. And researching.

Hint: if you were expecting to see me at some conference or another, or hoping for a visit on another continent this summer, you're out of luck. My plans have changed.

I discovered the perfect situation, if there is such a thing for a bike trip across America. A group of scouts from Astoria Oregon were planning a trip (https://www.biketripamerica.com or BTA for short) and they needed a couple of adult riders. Since they are doing a fund raiser for Operation Comfort Warrior, and since I'm a combat veteran (a medic in the 101st Airborne Division in Vietnam) who also happens to want to ride coast to coast, it was a match made in heaven. A fully supported bike ride, a charity fundraiser, and one big item that will (fingers crossed) get ticked off my bucket list.

I've been getting into shape by riding with some wonderful folks from the Hawaii Bicycling League (http://www.hbl.org). The BTA sponsors insisted that everyone log at least 750 miles before the ride starts on June 18. Except for a handful of rest days, we'll be in the saddle for 59 days. I started logging my mileage the day that 750 mile requirement was announced about 6 weeks ago, and I have already easily surpassed the minimum mileage. One of the HBL riders, Devon, rode across the country a couple of years back, and he said they did 4000 miles training for the 3500 mile journey, and it was still a tough ride. I may get close to that mileage by the time I leave. He also said that the toughest part was the 600 miles of soybean fields across Montana, North Dakota and into Minnesota, where he found that contrary to "prevailing west to east winds," they rode into a headwind practically every day. Plenty of time to develop saddle sores, count sheep, get sunburned, and burn lots of calories.

If you live anywhere near our northern route across Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Montana, North Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New York (including mileposts in Astoria, Clatskinie, St. Helens, Carson, Maryhill, Umatilla, Walla Walla (yes, where my son Tristan and daughter-in-law Olivia went to Whitman College), Lewiston ID, Orofino, Kamiah, Missoula MT, Lincoln, Great Falls, Stanford, Lewiston, Mosby, Jordon, Circle, Glendive, Dickinson, New Salem ND, Bismark, Napoleon, Enderlin, Moorhead MN, Pelican Rapids, Osakis, Milaca, St. Croix Falls WI, Bloomer, Merrill, Antigo, Shiocton, Manitowoc, Ludington MI, White Cloud, Belding, Galesburg, LaGrange IN, Defiance OH, Bowling Green, Vermilion, Ashtabula, Erie PA, Blasdell NY, Niagara Falls, Caledonia, Syracuse, Herkimer, Schenectady, Hudson, Fishkill, or NYC), then by all means stand beside the road and wave at us as we pass, or get on your bike and ride along for a few miles.

And even if you are not near our route, follow us on-line, and by all means give a donation, large or small, to Operation Comfort Warrior. Look for the donation link on the BTA website listed above. I will celebrate my 70th birthday on the road from Herkimer to Schenectady. If you are a trivia buff, that makes me two days too old to be a baby boomer, but it feels like a great way to celebrate what I'm looking at as the beginning of the third third of my life. Anything after 105 will be a bonus. Maybe I'll even plan another coast-to-coast that year --- from the west coast to the east coast of Oahu.

Keep following me here as I continue to train, head off to Astoria to get myself outfitted with a new bike, meet the rest of the crew, and begin the long journey into the rising sun.