Blythe, California

Tuesday Evening 12 September
Day 3
Blythe Cotton
Blythe Cotton

Because today was one of my ride days, Susan said I could borrow her bike until I got mine fixed.  I was just about ready to get it set up when she co-opted me to slice cantaloupe.  By the time I was finished getting fruit ready, it was too late to start riding.  No problem.  I wasn’t all that thrilled on riding someone else’s bike, any bike for that matter, 103 flat miles through a desert oven.

Spokane Bob and Winchester John Approaching the Final Sag
Spokane Bob and Winchester John Approaching the Final Sag

It turned out Martha and I were needed for other duties anyway – shuttling back and forth between rest stops getting ice to suffering riders.  Normally, Pactour sets up rest stops every 25 – 30 miles.  Today it was every 10 – 15 miles.  I saw several riders near the front of the group – Spokane Bob, Winchester John, SD Charlie were riding strong at the front.

 

El Centro, California

Monday Evening, 11 September
Day Two- El Centro, California
Doug preps the Bullet Bike for the descent from Julian. Yesterday he got stopped by cops looking for a motor in this rig.
Doug preps the Bullet Bike for the descent from Julian. Yesterday he got stopped by cops looking for a motor in this rig.

I expected the second day to be easy: 88 miles, a long winding descent from Julian, then a brief roll across a nameless desert into the Imperial Valley and El Centro.  Wrong.  Rough road surface jarred the riders until their hands were numb.  Temperatures climbed past 100 degrees and the dry hot air sucked precious water and salt from their cores.

I drove the lunch rig down the twisting hill, and the crew set up and served lunch under a tree by a lake.  Hot dogs, cucumber salad, pickles, chips and soda.  Water, salt and sugar.

First rider to arrive was SD Charlie.  I figured he must be doing great after riding off the front all day. “How ya doin’, Charlie?”

“Bad. Heat is getting to me.”

He sat on a bench, slumped with his head down for ten minutes before touching the ice water I gave him.

Riders continued to arrive in small groups over the next three hours.  Most but not all looked wasted.  Spokane Bob, Big John from Kennett Square dripped sweat but looked strong.

Other riders slumped on benches, with ice socks draped over their necks. Ma Nancy had to force the smile that had come naturally the day before.  She rode off shepherding two other dudes – MI Broh and one other guy.

A rider to remain nameless shared a story unlike any I’ve heard before.  Feeling wasted, he stopped and sat against the shady side of a telephone pole.  Then he felt the irrepressible urge to relieve himself.  Number Two.  He dropped his shorts, squatted behind a rock, started feeling dizzy and fell over sideways.

Intrepids
Intrepids

Three intrepid riders were last to leave the lunch stop.  Xenia Brent, Albuquerque Karen and Alamo Ted.  I was impressed with their character.  They may have been the slowest riders this particular day, but they never whined or whimpered.  After chatting amiably while recovering at lunch, they rode the final stretch to El Centro together.  That’s what I call style!

Julian, California

Sunday Evening, 10 September
Day One – First Riding Day
Julian, California
Julian, California

Group departed San Diego at 6:30 AM and climbed 77 miles, 8000 feet to Julian, an old gold mining town turned tourist trap in the mountains east of San Diego.  Shortly after the miners arrived in the 19th century, some dude planted apple trees and they thrived.  Now Julian is famous for apple pies.  I didn’t try any.  There was a long line of people waiting outside Mom’s Apple Pie Shop, and I would have been surprised to find them as tasty as Martha’s creations.

Bike Tech
Stripped Threads
Stripped Threads

My experiment riding platform pedals was a failure, not because they were inefficient to ride, but rather because the right pedal came loose from the crank arm, stripped the threads and ruined my crank arm.  Upon arriving at Julian, we pulled the crank from the bottom bracket.  Now I’m looking for a replacement.

Tomorrow is our day to work.  I get to drive the lunch truck, and Martha, Debbie and I get to make lunch.  Susan told me I’m cooking hot dogs.  Guess that’s the man job.

I want to write more stories about the other riders in the group, and I’m pondering how to do that while preserving their privacy in this age of electronic trolls and goblins.

 

San Diego, California

Saturday Morning, 9 September

Day Zero – Arrival Day

Dog Beach, California
Dog Beach, California

Old friends, new friends arriving from all over the U.S., and other continents. Some people I recognize immediately.  Others, we stare at each other for maybe 15 seconds.  “I know you.”

“Yeah – was it the 2012 Northern?”

“No, I wasn’t on that one”.  Then we figure it was something like the 2008 Ridge Ride. Some people I haven’t seen for over ten years rekindle fond memories.  Pactour people generally never keep in touch.  We just show up for these events, then pick up from where we left off.

I can’t help but notice some physiques.  Two types in particular stand out.  Riders with broad chests and shoulders, muscular arms are the triathletes.  Perhaps they did a couple iron man competitions this year.  The skinny ones bordering on the brink of emaciation are the climbers.  I sort of looked like that last year.

Lots of stories to share – events of the past year, injuries and more.  Broken pelvis, ruptured achilles, broken ribs from falling off a trainer.  Other transcontinental rides from years I missed.

This morning at 6:15 am, a group  of maybe 15 early arrivals left for a short warmup ride to Dog Beach on Pacific Ocean, where some of the newbies dipped their rear wheel in the surf.

Martha just told me I’m riding tomorrow – most of the crew doesn’t want to do the climb.  I’m planning to give it a whirl in my Keene sandals and platform pedals – 77 miles, 8000 feet.  We’ll see how that works out…

Tonto Hills Motel

Hazy Sunrise, Tonto Hills, AZ
Hazy Sunrise, Tonto Hills, AZ

Friday Morning 8 September.

After spending the summer on Bainbridge Island, WA, Martha and I arrived here at our Arizona home Wednesday afternoon.  It feels more like a motel.  In three hours we depart for San Diego to begin a new Adventure.  Pac Tour Southern 2017, 28 days, 2900 odd miles, bike tour San Diego to Savannah.  We’re working crew, which means I get to ride alternate days.  I’m nowhere near fit enough to ride every inch every day, having spent much of the summer hunched over a computer writing C# to create data maps of lightning strikes.

Last year I rode 300+ mile weeks to prepare for the Pac Tour Northern, riding from Seattle to Boston.  Most weeks this past summer I was riding less then 100.  Right now I’m at least 5 pounds heavier than when I started the Northern.  Probably more.  What would be the point of hopping on the scale anyway?  I anticipate feeling weird seeing my old PacTour buddies in top form when I’m soft and flabby. So be it, we sow, we reap, we weep.

Martha and I are both looking forward to the journey – rolling out of motel beds in the wee hours each morning to help with breakfast, discovering new places together, preparing and serving lunch to old friends and new ones.  I’m hoping to “ride into” the trip, hopefully being in reasonable shape by the time we hit the Talamena Parkway in Arkansas.  We’ll see how well that works…