Category: #bikedc

Springtime in Sweden

Today was the first event of my 2013 riding calendar. Each year the Washington Area Bicycling Association and the Swedish Embassy get together to hold the Vasa ride.  In Sweden, them crazy Swedes hold a really long cross country skiing event called the Vasaloppet. Thousands of Swedes, nearly crippled by cabin fever, go skiing for hours and hours. Somehow, like chocolate and peanut butter, WABA and the HofS decided to merge the Vasaloppet concept with bicycling and, voila (sorry, don’t know any Swedish), a ride was born.

The Vasa event is held in March, because Swedes don’t give a damn about cold weather. This helps keep the number of participants in the Vasa ride down. Still we had several hundred folks doing one of the 3 rides. There’s the full Vasa of 59 miles. Then there’s the Halv Vasa of 31 miles, and finally there’s the Kort Vasa of 16 miles. (Swedes ain’t so hot at fractions apparently, but we at the Rootchopper Institute of Anal Retentive Arithmetic are a forgiving lot.)

At the end of the ride, the HofS gives riders hot blueberry soup. It’s actually pretty tasty, buy I wouldn’t want to drink it every day.

The infamous Friday Coffee Club came out in great numbers, a few even brought along their significant others. You can tell it’s true love when your partner will ride 30 or 60 miles in the cold for a cup of blue soup and your company.

Temperatures were around 40 degrees and winds were light. At 8 a.m. a gaggle of FCCers took off with the Full Vasa riders. Our group included Mary and Ed on their amazing Co-Motion tandem, Ryan, Aaron, Will, Shawn, and Lisa. Leslie, another FCCer, was riding as a ride marshall. Thanks for volunteering, Leslie.

Lisa is now the official riding buddy of this blog. We’ve done five or six rides together in the past year and she hasn’t cussed me out once yet. (She shows remarkable restraint.)  The last official riding buddy of this blog was run over by a pick up truck, so, Lisa, watch your back. Although I didn’t see them during the ride, Shawn and Will were also in the Full Vasa pack as we headed out.

The ride went out the Capital Crescent Trail, crossed over to MacArthur Boulevard and headed to Potomac Maryland. At Potomac Village we stopped to chat with Megan and Katie, two WABA people who were giving out drinks and maintaining good cheer despite standing in the cold all morning.

At this point, Lisa and I made the executive decision to turn around while the rest of the group forged on. Their plan was to do a 3 Kort Vasa, the full ride less a portion in Rock Creek Park.  Lisa and I had fun riding back despite feeling a  bit chilly.

Back at the HofS, we met up with Dave, another FCCer who had ridden the Kort ride with Jean, his wife. Jean did the ride despite disintegrating riding slacks, a recent purchase gone sadly wrong. I am sure she will get her money back.

While at the HofC we met up with Rachel and Kate, FCC regulars, and their partner in cycling crime, Katie Ann. Other FCCers we met up with at the HofS included Crystal, John and Kate, and Justin and his wife, whose name escapes me. (This has been a problem of late. I mixed up Kevin with Ben, another FCCer, at the start. I may have to up my coffee consumption.)

The Rootchopper Institute would like to thank the House of Sweden and WABA for putting on this event. I’d list all the names of the WABA peeps who got up super early to pull this shindig off, buy I’d miss a few names (see previous paragraph). Special thanks go to Alex, who managed to take pix with an SLR, tweet on her phone, and use a megaphone in the same morning.  Her stirring pre-ride safety speech was beyond compare. And also to Megan who was standing in the cold at the Potomac Village rest stop with Katie despite having run a half marathon yesterday and getting only 3 hours of sleep.

As usual, the only thing that could have made this a better ride was warm sunshine and more FCCers. These folks are a joy to ride with.

Mary, Ed, Lisa, and I took pictures. You can check them out here, here, here, and here. WABA’s pix are here.

Friday on My MInd

Can you say “It’s Friday” and not smile? I can’t.

I headed out in the dark aboard Big Nellie. I made the Park Terrace descent at high speed and crossed the Parkway without having to stop for the second day in a row. I hit the Mount Vernon Trail at 17 miles per hour with a smile on my face.

I was hoping to see bald eagles, because they tend to be out and about at sunrise.  I was rewarded for my early departure with two eagles. The first was perched on a branch above the Belle Haven nest.  I am pretty sure it was a male, because he looked very big. The second was on the wing near Daingerfield Island between Old Town and National Airport.  This is an unusual place to see eagles so it was an extra bonus. Riding a recumbent is advantageous in this regard, because of the heads-up riding position.

Just before the second bald eagle, I had a Nancy Duley siting. Normally we pass on Union Street, but my early departure moved today’s passing to the beaver marsh north of Slaters Lane. She later said that I made her think she was late.  I like to mess with people’s minds. I saw French Braid Rider, one of my regulars, well north of our normal passing point. She had a concerned look on her face. I’ll bet she thought she was late too.

A light tailwind made the ride honest, but workaday, which is appropriate because it is a work day after all.  I came off the second fly over bridge at the airport with an impressive head of steam, maxing out at 25 miles per hour. I passed the airport fence where it juts out into the trail and there was a small executive jet right above me. It was coming in for a landing on the secondary runway. It’s creepy how they seem to appear out of nowhere.

After I passed under the flight path to the main runway, a 737 landed. A few seconds later a black duck flew from the river into the plane’s air wake. He went haywire, looking as if he had hit an invisible wall. It was like something out of a cartoon. He somehow gathered himself midair, turned, and hightailed it back to the river where the air was calm.

On the way to Friday Coffee Club, I nearly clipped the concrete base of a wrought iron fence at 15th and Constitution. I had to rein in Big Nellie. Whoa, Nellie. I met up with famous local blogger, bike commuter, and curmudgeon Brian in front of the White House. We chatted until we tied up our steeds outside Swings Coffee Saloon.

Friday Coffee Club was crowded, mostly with people I don’t know.  Even so, I had lively conversations with seven or eight people. When warm weather comes, we will definitely have to  move the group outside.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/rootchopper/8561386658/in/photostream

(Please note that WordPress refused to embed the photo of the Friday Coffee Club, even when I used html. What lovely software.)

After FCC, I rode past the wooden elks at the Kennedy Center and across the TR Bridge to Rosslyn. The trip up Lynn Street through the Rosslyn Circle of Death was a challenge. At the I-66 off ramp, a white SUV trying to make a right turn on red blocked my access to the crosswalk.  I yelled to get the driver’s attention since she was looking away from me to see if she could turn. She didn’t hear me. So then I really hollered.  She looked at me from her perch behind the wheel with derision as I rolled in front of her grill. I yelled “Get out of the crosswalk” to her and she honked at me. I’m just trying to keep you from putting me in the ER or the grave, you incompetent, scofflaw dipstick.

A block later I watched as two cars coming down Lee Highway ran the red light on Lynn Street to get onto the I-66 ramp. Don’t mind the rest of us. Getting to the office one minute quicker is far more important than anybody else’s lives.

Another block later at 19th Street, a shuttle with a U.S. Forest Service decal on the side, pulled into the crosswalk on red.  I yelled at the driver who was looking the other way. He couldn’t hear me. Rather than take a chance that he would execute his turn while I was in the crosswalk in front of him,  I stopped. Instead of turning, he waited for the green light. Better safe than roadkill. Still four dangerous driving incidents in a quarter mile is ridiculous.

Once I reached the far side of 19th Street, I encountered the Vamoose bus crowd. Arlington lets intercity bus operators to use the corner of Lynn and 19th as a bus terminal. The Vamoose employee had his back to me when he waved the soon-to-be passengers across the sidewalk in front of me. I duck walked through the crowd. Yabba dabba do.

When I got to the parking garage, I knelt and kissed the ground. I cheated Rosslyn once more.

I rode home into a headwind. I won. No one tried to run me over. I won again.

Tomorrow I rest. Sunday I ride for soup. It’s a Swedish thing.

Blow Me Down

Har. The wind she was a blowin’, My timbers were shivering. Big Nellie was squawking. We rode to work anyway.

I could tell the headwind was bad when I rode down the Park Terrace hill and could barely make 30 miles per hour. I mean, cars were gaining on me!  It was humiliating.  I timed my arrival at the GW Parkway crossing perfectly and made it to the Mount Vernon Trail without slowing. (Technically this is illegal, but it’s definitely safer than waiting around for a speeding car to run me over.)

The ride in had little wildlife other than Nancy Duley who appeared on Union Street in Old Town.  More than half the time I encounter her is in a two block section of Union Street. I am begining to think she is tracjing me with GPS or something.

I fought the wind and the wind won. I fought the wind and the wind won.

Across from the Washington Monument a bald eagle cruised over my head.  It was positively ‘merican, I tell you.

I was hoping for a tailwind on the way home. I got a swirling, whirling vortex instead. Just getting out of Rosslyn took serious skill.  I’d get hit head on with a gust, then from the side, then the rear. I was worried I’d get yanked into the path of a car. The taxis blocking the bike lane didn’t help at all. I yelled at one as I passed just to make sure he saw me.

The first few miles on the Mount Vernon Trail went by fast, except for the brif slowdown to get through a gaggle of lethargic geese. I rang my bell and one goose just wasn’t interested in getting out of the way. Then it turned and flapped its wings once and waddled out of the way. I wonder if it was an expectant momma goose. 

The rest of the ride was ride of the mill. A few geese here and there. A mallard or two.

Normally, I use this blog to vent my spleen about jerks on the trail or on the street, but other than the taxis in Rosslyn, today was jerk free. In fact, more than half of the people passing me this morning said “hello”. 

Two young women separately riding upright bikes gave me big smiles as they passed me from the front. They must have been taken my raw sex appeal and innate charm.  Or, possibly, they thought I looked exceptionally stupid dressed like a hobo, riding a faired recumbent that was being blown all over the trail. 

 

Tailwinds and Beavers

We were sucked in by the warm weather over the weekend. Suddenly, it’s cold again. The holey sweater was put back into service this morning. Light winds made the ride in reasonably pleasant. I can’t get enough of the daylight.  I barely use my headlight any more.

I was a little worried that the bridges on the Mount Vernon Trail might be icy, but this turned out to be no problem. I picked Big Nellie under the assumption that it would be a dry day. No eagles or ospreys. I rode by a pair of Canada geese that were waddling next to the trail in Belle Haven Park. One of the geese was facing the trail. As I approached, he opened his mouth soundlessly. Then he flapped his wings. It looked like he was yawning and stretching. Get this goose some coffee, stat!

Bike commuters seem to be a generally good mood these days. When they pass me (they almost always pass me, not the other way around), they give a greeting with their warning.  Top of the morning to you, too.

When I arrived at the office, I pulled out my phone and saw that I had a message. Friend of the blog, Friday Coffee Clubber, and fellow resident of Hybla Valley, Reba, had sent me a movie. It was of three beavers (or, possibly, muskrats) swimming in the swampy water next to the boardwalk north of Slaters Lane. There was a momma, a poppa, and a baby. Reba did quite a nice job of tracking their movement as the swam in a channel near the trailside beaver dam. 

My twits were bitching about the wind in the evening. I didn’t mind at all. It was pushing me all the way down the trail. I can tell when the wind is particularly strong when it grabs my fairing and I accelerate. Sail biking.

I left work at 5:30 and stopped at the pharmacy on the way home and still arrived before dark. I love daylight savings time.

Today was my 40th bike commute of the year.  Doesn’t seem possible.

So Much to See

After yesterday’s long ride, my eyes were bloodshot and glassy. I don’t really know what was going on, but I decided to take some Nyquil and hit the hay early at 9. I woke up at 5:59 less than a minute before the alarm was set to go off. Not bad.

I expected my legs to be dead during the ride on aboard Big Nellie, but the tailwind gods were with me. I decided to check out the Morningside nest. On the way there, cars were suspiciously rolling slowly behind me. One was driven by Nancy Duley, who I normally see biking on the Mount Vernon Trail. I guess she prefers to bike commute in the rain and cold. No problem. We’ll serve some up for you tomorrow, Nancy.

There was no eagle action to be seen at the Morningside nest, so I took advantage of the winding downhill and let Big Nellie do her street luge thing. Several spots on the trail were covered with debris or water. The river had gone over its banks overnight thanks to snow melt, rain and high tide.

I had hope of spotting a bald eagle at the Belle Haven nest and I got a bonus. A pair of bald eagles, one big, the other small were in the tree with the nest. I hope it’s a mating pair.  Other than more evidence of flooding including a few rather deep sections of standing water the ride in was routine. A tall man on a Tern (a brand of folding bike, not a seagoing bird) had the audacity to pass me. He must have been getting a bigger push from the wind.  And he was going downhill. Or, maybe, I’m old, fat and slow.

The weatherman was even handed, giving me a headwind for the ride home. No worries. As I turned onto the MVT, I saw Ryan from Friday Coffee Club. At least, I think that’s his name. I suck at putting names to faces. (If you are reading this, let me know if I am right. Thanks.) As I approached the Memorial Bridge, I was passed by Chris, another FCCer. Chris was coming toward me with the tailwind and he was flying. Go, dude. Near the Humpback Bridge I was passed by Eric, an attorney at my old office. Eric was enjoying the tailwind too. Maybe I should turn around.

Seeing three people I know in quick succession rarely happens during my commute. I forged ahead into the wind. Near Daingerfield Island, I spotted an osprey overhead. He was shopping for his dinner, I am sure. Ospreys look impressive when they are overhead, but when you see one along side a bald eagle they look rather small. I once saw an osprey attack a bald eagle in Dyke Marsh. Dumb osprey.

As I approached Old Town near the south end of the power plant, I saw a woman cycling toward me. She was waving at me. I recognized her face, but I couldn’t put a name to it. (If you read this, please let me know. It’s going to drive me nuts.) She looked like she was enjoying the tailwind too.  

As I rode through Belle Haven Park, I came to realize that something was missing; the huge flocks of Canada geese from two weeks ago have thinned out considerably. We are left with the normal number of geese, and some mallards and cormorants.

I shouldn’t complain. I know where some geese nest along the MVT at Dyke Marsh. I should be seeing some goslings pretty soon. Another reason for not complaining is the fact that I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a black swoosh in the sky. I through the trees along the river and there it was, another bald eagle.  It was probably leaving the Morningside nest.

As much as I enjoyed the ride home and seeing all those familiar faces and birds, I have to admit the best party of the ride was not being blinded by headlights. Daylight Savings Time is the best. Except when it rains like a bitch. But that is a tale for the morrow.

El Gran Errando – Sums It Up

Part of the rules of the Errandonnee Challenge is that you have to submit a control card.  Here’s goes mine:

Errand No. 1

Errand No. 2

Errand No. 3

Errand No. 4

Errand No. 5

Errand No. 6

Errand No. 7

Errand No. 8

Errand No. 9

Errand No. 10

Errand No. 11

Errand No. 12

  • Date: February 19
  • Category: Wild Card (7-11 in Hollin Hall) (7th category, 1st time, 2nd night time errand)
  • Miles: 1.0 (Actually 29 but I can’t really count my commuting miles)
  • Total Miles: 107
  • Observation: When a raccoon crosses your path, it must be your lucky day. Buy a lottery ticket or two.
  • Photo:http://www.flickr.com/photos/rootchopper/8491047904/in/photostream

Final Observation: I honestly can’t believe I did this. It just goes to show you what throwing in the towel at the start can do when you are El Gran Errando.

For ease of use, here are the pix .

The End of an Errand

The ride to work today was a gift.  A tailwind made it a literal and figurative breeze. Little Nellie was my hoss du jour, because of the threat of rain for the evening rush. About two miles from home a raccoon sauntered out in front of me. It was a big one. It could have been a normal sized raccoon with its fur fluffed up against the cold. Or maybe it was a momma full of babies. In any case, it made it to the middle of the street and stopped. It turned its head to check me out, the, as if it were saying “D’oh!” turned around and scampered back the way it had come. Actually, it was more like a waddle than a scamper. Maybe it had too much scampi at the garbage buffet.

I was hoping for more wild life on the way in. There was the usual heap of geese and ducks and a great blue heron all scrunched up out in the river. No raptors or exotics. (I am soooo spoiled.)

I am starting to get the Rosslyn Circle of Certain Doom down to a science. Just assume that, when the light turns red, three cars will run the red to turn onto Key Bridge. Then proceed. You see car drivers never flaunt the laws like bike riders. Never ever.

The ride home was started by a jaw dropping moment.  It was light out. Not, almost-sunset light out, but honest to bejebus light out. And it stayed that way all the way to Belle Haven Park.  Even beyond there was enough sunlight left over that the headlights of the cars on the Parkway were tolerable.

By the time I arrived at the stone bridge 2 miles from home it was dark. I was running my Stella headlight on “high”. I headed for the 7-11 near home and stopped to do my last errand of the Errandonnee. Since it was my wild card, I thought it would be appropriate to buy a couple of lottery tickets. And so I did. Since it was in the dark, I also knocked off my second ride at night.

Errand 12: Wild Card

Now that the Errandonnee is in the books, El Gran Errando will retire knowing that this challenge was muy bueno.

Make Him Stop: Errand Number 11

Last year during the Utilitaire Challenge, I rode The Mule on a fiercely windy day to get me a roast beef sandwich called a Gary’s Lunchbox at Sherwood Hall Gourmet.  The wind won and I ended up ramming into the back of a parked car.

Errand 11: Little Nellie Get Lunch

This year, same conditions, same sandwich, different bike. Little Nellie got the call and handled the wind gusts without incident. I procured my sammich and received a reward, a wonderful tailwind that carried me home with no troubles.

The sammich was most excellent. Lesson learned: when life throws you a headwind, turn around, dummy!

Miles: 1

Cumulative miles: good heavens, we must be pushing 75 by now

Category: Lunch

Remaining errands: 1, but must be done in the dark. Oooh…suspense and intrique await. (Probably not.)

The Hapless Hispanisto

Weatherman was using the s word this morning so Little Nellie got that call. It could have been an unwise decision since there was frost on the cars parked in front of my house.  Once I got to the Mount Vernon Trail all the bridges were coated in rime.  As both faithful readers of this blog know, Little Nellie is not particularly good at riding on slippery stuff.  I was uber careful and made it over the scary bits without incident.
The sunrise was pretty intense this morning. I think the temperature popped up a few degrees because I went from chilly at the start of the ride to sweaty by the half way point.  Speaking of halfway points, as I approached the power plant, I intersected with none other than Nancy Duley.  Normally we pass each other in opposite directions but since I left early to get to Friday Coffee Club I got a bonus. Nancy was riding alone because the evil and heartless Mr. Nancy Duley rode off without her. Nancy and I rode together to the airport. All the way, Nancy was cussing the Mr. up something fierce!!  (Okay, just kidding. Don’t want to start a divorce after they spent all that money on new doors for the house.)
Nancy has an awesome bike.  The frame is a custom Holland frame from 1993 (the same age as The Mule). It’s got nifty looking fenders and a trekking style handlebar. Nancy must be tempted to just keep on riding every morning.  Since she has a job and a mortgage (and new doors!) she turned around at the airport and headed for home. (Or so she said.  She could have continued on to Fredericksburg as far as I know.)
Coffee Club was hopping.  It’s my first FCC meeting in four weeks. It was especially nice to see the early birds, Mary, Lisa, Crystal and Adam, who normally are gone by the time I arrive. Froggie, a.k.a. the Bad Penny, was in from Norfolk.  And John, the dirt engineer, appeared, but left his beard at home. It was an effective disguise.
He reports that he is hard at work on the 2nd Annual Hoppy 100.
DSCN2043
It’s always fun to meet new folks at FCC and Ricky and Colin were this week’s noobs.  Welcome.
As is so often the case, the highlight of FCC is getting to play a bit with Hugo.  Hugo’s around 8 months old and words cannot do justice to his cuteness.
hugo
On the ride to Rosslyn, Little Nellie had to stop and take in the strange wooden beasts in front of the Kennedy Center.  I do not have an art gene, but I am guessing that some creative type person thought it would be spiffy to put a herd of wooden elk in front of the Kennedy Center. The Kennedy’s were known elk lovers. They had elk races at the Kennedy compound in Hyannisport until an elk got drunk and ran off a bridge and drowned. You could look it up.
DSCN2046
If the morning was cool-ish the afternoon and evening were warm-ish. It was 61 degrees at lunchtime. I celebrated by walking several blocks to a sandwich stop.  On the way back to the office, a sky blue Porsche blew through a yield sign at a crosswalk that I was about to enter. The driver was on his cell phone. I slapped the rear panel of his car as he went by. He didn’t look or care. Some day Mr. Sky Blue Porsche will be spending oodles of money on a defense attorney after he hits a pedestrian. How much money? Obviously, if you have to ask you can’t afford it.
I relate the Porsche story partly because of what happened in Old Town on the way home.
The trip home was characterized by two things. First, I wore shorts. In February. Lordy, it felt good. Second, a weather front was approaching. There was a clear line of ominous clouds coming, When I started for home, I had a headwind. By the time I reached the airport, the wind was gusting from behind. They should make a rule that requires that the best tailwind of the week happens on Friday evenings,
On my way along North Union Street in Old Town, I spotted a woman runner on the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. She was heading south like me. As we reached a parking garage, an exiting car came inches from hitting her. She and the driver exchanged words. She told the driver that it was okay since the sight lines are terrible.  Mighty magnanimous of her after the driver nearly killed her.
As far as errandonnee activity, I diverted 2 1/2 miles from my commute for FCC so I get a Coffee run as errand number 8 (I think). My total errandonneering mileage is well over 60 miles. I hope to do two some more errands this weekend.
Mary, the Mother of all Errandeurs, suggested that I change my errandonneuring moniker from El Errandonisto Grande to El Gran Errando.  Since EGE is a better set of initials than EEG, which makes it look like I have serious neurological problems, I am switching to El Gran Errando.
Life would have been much easier if I had taken Spanish instead of French in high school.
“C’est la vie,” say the old folks. It goes to show you never can tell.

Robineering

The weatherman warned that there might be snow this evening. Or their might not. I want his job.

Just to be safe Little Nellie got the call today. I can say for certain after riding her 20 miles today that the tweak to the saddle position is a rousing success. And the repair to my shifter cable likewise.

The ride in was nothing to write home about.  And since I am at home as I write this ther wouldn’t be any point to doing so if I did.  Cruising along between the Humpback Bridge and the Memorial Bridge I spotted two robins bopping along the side of the Mount Vernon Trail. They didn’t have their bright orange breast feathers yet but they were definintely robins.

There were a bunch of soldiers doing what must be a required fitness task. They put on massive back packs and walk along the trail. I can tell they are being timed because they look down at their watches and because there’s another soldier timing them at what looked like the finish line just north of the 14th Street bridge.  One of the soldiers was actually running with his pack on. All I could think of is, “Dude, your body’s going to remember this in about 20 years.”

The ride in was dry with a head wind. The ride home was in a spitting rain.  The tailwind made it tolerable. Once the sun went down it was exceptionally hard to see as the light from my helmet lamp and the cars on the parkway were reflecting off of all the water.

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. Rather than race around trying to get flowers for Mrs. Rootchopper, I diverted to the Safeway and picked some up. (Here’s hoping the Mrs. does read my blog.)  It took me five minutes to pick them out and buy them. It took ten minutes of walking around in the rain beforehand trying to find something to lock LIttle Nellie to.  I ended up just locking the rear wheel to the frame near some shopping carts.  Sadly, this is all too familiar in Mount Vernon. Fairfax County is way behind on accommodating biked as transportation.

For those of you who are into the errandoneering challenge, I scored two rides today. 1 bike commute of 29 miles (errand number 6) and one trip to the grocery store (errand number 7) in the dark (a one-half mile diversion off my bike commute).  So that gives me 1 of 2 night time rides.

Happy Ash Valentines Eve.

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