Posts Tagged ‘bicycle adventure’
Relentless Miles
During our return ride back to Hill City, we climbed for about 2 hours, mile after mile without any coasting. That means pushing pedals the whole time to in order to make progress.
Upon reaching the high point, the well-tended trail slants down and our bikes started rolling along without any help from us.
That seems like a chance to rest, but it’s not. In no time, we are flying along at 23 mph and hanging on tight to keep the bike on the trail and our bodies on the bikes.
Even though it only takes a fraction of the time, the fact that you are flexed in mostly one position throughout makes it feel almost as relentless as the climb did.
Somewhere at the bottom of one of those downslopes, we finally had our first close encounter with cows on the trail.
I received quite an education about the difference between cow and horse manure during this adventure.
I’m biased, but I definitely prefer what horses produce.
Today, Gary and I face relentless miles in the car as we cross most of South Dakota to get back to our homes.
That’s a small price to pay for the blast of a time we had. It was an absolutely fabulous adventure.
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Giggle Inducing
Several times during yesterday’s ride to Deadwood from Hill City on the Mickelson Trail, Rich and I found ourselves giggling over how much beautiful fun we were having.
Gary decided to take an extra day off to regain full strength, and drove his car to meet us in Deadwood.
We are impressed with the quality of this trail and the attention to detail in their trail stops. They are nicely spread out and offer shelter, seating, hand-pumped well water, bike tools stations, and pretty respectable toilet facilities.
There is a lot of historical information provided on signage at each stop, as well as along pertinent locations along the entire 109 miles of the trail.
The leg we rode yesterday has four tunnels that added nicely to our adventures.
The Mickelson Trail won’t meet every cyclist’s standards for level of challenge, but I found it to be an ideal combination of gorgeous different landscapes with respectable mile options that are being well maintained.
The cost of the trail pass is easily worth the giggle-worthy adventures available to a wide range of people with bicycle skills.
I’m excited to be able to ride back to Hill City on this same route today.
Even though we’re still not counting, the distance of this leg is 51 miles.
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Flirting Danger
Sometimes in life’s adventures, dangerous situations are encountered. Between rainstorms yesterday, Paul, Randy, and I hit the road on our bikes –two of us only figuratively, but for Paul, it was literally.
I suspect his Parkinson’s is playing more and more of a role in his occasions of close encounters with the unforgiving earth while bike riding, but Paul ending up on the ground during bike rides has been happening for as long as we have shared time as cyclists.
Yesterday’s was one of the less forgiving instances. We had just made a decision to extend our planned route based on time available and distance involved and turned left instead of right. As we blissfully rolled along, Paul was behind me. I heard him vocalize a version of “uh oh” and felt his front tire pressing on my rear tire.
If you’ve ever watched much of the Tour de France, you’ll recognize that this situation rarely turns out good. I stiffened up to hold my bike upright as Paul unsuccessfully attempted to decouple us. I could tell by the sound of what followed it wasn’t a soft landing.
He was a bit of a mess, but dodged the calamity of broken bones. I pulled mud out of his helmet and attempted to calm his anger at himself, slowing his breathing so we could take a moment for assessment. Randy squirted some water on his wounds. We aborted our planned extension and headed straight back to the house to temporarily patch him up.
His wife, Beth, was scheduled to arrive by noon to pick him up and drive to visit friends in Upper Michigan for more cycling.
“Hello, honey…” Nice surprise for her. Beth is as stoic as Paul, and they packed his stuff up and headed off for the next adventure without much fuss. Paul texted an update that they visited the ER in Marquette, and he was given the okay to continue with ride plans after fresh applications of antiseptic and clean bandages. No stitches required.
While the more dedicated golfers forged ahead with their games for the rest of the day, despite the rain, the remaining group of us entertained ourselves with card games and a few minutes of televised golf, and a Vikings preseason game before getting in some boating action when the weather got nice.
A cruise on the pontoon led to a visit to Powell’s restaurant across the lake, where cocktails and tossing bags filled the time while we waited for a table.
I’m pretty sure that Joe’s throw fell cleanly through the hole after I snapped that photo. When I checked on the other four guys inside at the bar, I was unable to tell which group was having a better time.
The sun was setting before our food arrived, but nobody cared. Steve had initiated a round of sharing highlight memories each of us had from the many years of this annual adventure, and a lot of love was evident.
Our last flirtation with danger was navigating our way back across the lake after dark with unofficial lighting and me as the designated driver.
I am not a natural boat captain.
With Steve’s expert guidance and help in doing the actual departing and landing, we returned safely to Wildwood, where we reconnected with the other golfers.
Oh, there was one more dangerous act to report. I sacrificed my good health by staying up way too late for the third night in a row to hang out on the deck with music, laughter, heartfelt sharing, and disgusting cigar smoke.
Sometimes it is worth living dangerously.
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Great Rides
I had one job to do this weekend: go for bike rides with Paul. The rest of the hours were agenda-free and I made the best of my time by relaxing to the maximum degree. While the twelve other guys were golfing, I had the place to myself, which rarely happens at the lake. The solitude was magnificent. I had a range of Olympic event options for sports spectating keeping me company indoors and gorgeous weather to lure me outside where I explored the surroundings alone.
Friday morning started with a mysterious sound coming from the woods in the pre-dawn hours that my waking self took a long time to diagnose. I deduced it was coming from somewhere very close so I forced my eyes open and spied through the trees to catch a glimpse of movement on the roof of the property next door. There was a crew of guys ripping off the old shingles. The rest of the day was filled with the repeating rat-tat-tat of new shingles getting nailed.
I walked the mini-labyrinth Cyndie and I created in the woods and soaked up sunshine on the deck. A short nap might have happened to the rhythmic sounds of a roofing crew hard at work.
When Paul returned in the mid-afternoon, it was time to ride. On Friday, we started on gravel which was a challenge on my Trek Domane with slick tires. Paul has a new gravel bike that handled it well. I felt like I was trying to hold my bike on the edge of a ski boat wake and more than once had to muscle the front wheel back in place to avoid calamity. When we popped out onto pavement at the end of the fire lane road, the smooth ride felt like a new world. We sailed along for more miles than we’d planned because the roads and surroundings were so nice.
On Saturday, the radar indicated we had limited time before a storm would be arriving so we skipped the gravel and chose a different route that still connected with the latter half of Friday’s ride to enjoy that great rolling ribbon of pavement a second time. Made it back before raindrops started to fall.
This weekend was the first time I’ve been on my bike since riding the Tour of Minnesota in June. I surprised myself with how strong I felt on our Friday jaunt. My muscles in the latter half of yesterday’s excursion let me know they hadn’t been used at that intensity on consecutive days since June.
The legs get a rest today. I’ll be driving home this morning to trade places with Cyndie as she comes up for a few days with a friend.
This year’s guys’ golf weekend has been a treat, made all the more special for me by two great bike rides in the woods with Paul. I’m lucky the group has included me in their long-running annual tradition.
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Flywheel Effect
When over 200 like-minded adventurous bicyclists converge upon a small community and travel together for an entire week, mystically powerful energy is produced. Collectively overcoming weather extremes, dealing with physical limitations, and coping with equipment failures with nothing but the heroic support of the Tour staff and each other to carry us through to the finish, we grow more connected with each passing minute.
On the very last day of the Tour of Minnesota yesterday, after splashing some water on my face and changing out of my wet cycling attire to put on clean shorts and a shirt I had stashed in the car for just this purpose, I found myself walking beside a fellow cyclist who I had yet to officially greet. We exchanged names and heartfelt pleasantries, wishing each other well on returning to “life after adventure vacations.” There was an instant unmistakable yet unspoken bond evident.
I am blessed with over 200 similar bonds woven together into one inspiring, life-enhancing aspect of my life. It is a very powerful force for good health.
One thing about energy like this is that it doesn’t simply dissipate when we all part ways for our homes at the end of the week. Comparable to the momentum of a flywheel, the emotional thrills of the week continue to spin and energize the more mundane demands of our daily home activities.
No matter what I need to put my effort toward now that my vacation week of biking and camping is over, the people and events of this year’s Tour of Minnesota will continue to spin in my mind and inspire my happy emotions for longer than seems logical. I long ago opened my mind to accepting unexplained phenomena as worthy of our attention and fully embrace the value of my emotional memories of all the personal connections shared with people I meet during these adventure weeks, some of these connections not materializing for me until the trip is over and everyone has gone home.
The flywheel has yet to wind down.
The bag of gear that needed to weigh less than 50 pounds for the sake of the luggage crew hefting so many bags multiple times per day had gained an awful lot of water weight by the time I struggled it out of the car when I got home yesterday. Before I was able to wrestle my soaked tent out of its carrying bag, the skies at home opened up with an attention-getting downpour of rain that interfered with my plan of hanging everything in the sun to dry.
It served to help sustain me in the mental place of the ride, having awoken in a similar downpour in Staples, MN earlier that very same day.
This morning, I am faced with the realities of news that a minority of people in my country are accomplishing steps to force their narrow moral views on all, moving our society backwards fifty years. I like the meme spotted recently that suggests life begins at ejaculation and maybe the burden of unplanned pregnancies and fears about unmarried promiscuity should be placed primarily on MEN in these situations, not so much women.
I’m going to ride the residual spin of wonderful energy from my Tour of Minnesota experience this year for longer than ever.
Somehow, loving all others as much or more than we love ourselves will bring us to better places soon. That’s a flywheel that I strive to get turning to a maximum velocity the whole world will feel.
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Relative Something 