Category: “Mount Vernon Trail”

Errandonnee + Amis = Amisdonnee!

The weatherman was calling for temperatures in the high 50s. There was just one thing to do. Go for a long ride. Justin, John and Ryan were going to ride a 60-mile loop from DC to Alexandria to Prince Georges County to DC. I was going to join them but between my bad back, my late return from picking up my daughter at BWI and a profound sense of sloth, I opted out.

Instead I headed out to run some errands as part of the 2014 Errandonnee Challenge. After doing some yoga and mastering the day’s crossword puzzles, I hopped on The Mule and headed to Old Town for some exciting banking action. Not knowing if the Mount Vernon Trail was ice free I took side streets all the way to Alexandria. The hills that I encountered did not much bother my back which is still beset with random nerve pains.

Once the banking was done I headed to Haute Dogs and Fries, a rather ambitious little hot dog place at the north end of Old Town. I had a Fenway Dog and an Haute Dog with some fries. It was most scrumptious. On the way out I checked my Twitter feed and saw that my friend Rachel (Don’t Call Me, Bob) Cannon was feeling lonely at her job at a nonprofit used bookstore in DC. Since I like Rachel and books and had nowhere else to be, I decided to be there. I happened to glance at the menu board on the way out and saw that they sold Whoopie Pies. I figured Rachel could use a little Whoopie in her day and procured one.I chose the red velvet pie over the Guinness pie because a Guinness Whoopie Pie would make me hurl. (I am a thoughtful gift giver.)

Once the Whoopie Pie was safely stowed in my handlebar bag, I was off and riding. The Mount Vernon Trail is notorious for being congested on nice days and today was no exception. Once onto the 14th Street Bridge I had a brief reprieve before riding into thick swarms of tourists. Maybe that should be swarms of thick tourists, but either way there were a lot of them.

I made it to 17th and K Street in DC and could not find the bookstore. After a few tweets to Rachel and some Google mapping I found it. I tied up The Mule next to Rachel’s new green Surly Disc Trucker, a touring bike to die for. I had bike envy. Rachel bought the Surly after being run over by a car in Prince Georges County last December. It’s nice to see that some good came out of what was probably a horrible experience.

As readers of this blog know, I think Rachel is pretty darn cool. She’s a grad student, snail wrangler, DC bike tour leader, bike rack installer, book store clerk, kitty saver, and erstwhile sitcom star all in one. We talked a blue streak for about an hour. We solved global warming, the Ukranian and Venezuelan Crises, and acute Nutella addiction syndrome.

Errandonee #4: Rachel says, "I <3 Whoopie Pies"

Before I left I bought a book on her recommendation. I did a little browsing and saw that this store is one that I have to come back to with an empty pannier or two. In addition to books they sell CDs and DVDs. Even with the low prices, I could spend some serious money at this place. The store is called Carpe Librum. It is owned by a nonprofit called Turning the Page. Proceeds from sales go to benefit DC public school students and families. They accept donations of old books, CDs, and DVDs so I may actually take them some of mine in the future.

As I was leaving the bookstore, I checked my Twitter feed and saw that Ted was riding at Hains Point along the Potomac River about a mile away. Hains Point is on the way to the 14th Street Bridge so I headed over to see if I could find Ted. Sure enough, I wasn’t there more than ten seconds when I saw him on the road ahead. We did two 3-mile loops down to the point together. The weather was pretty darn splendid.

After leaving Ted, I crossed the river and headed for home on the Mount Vernon Trail. It was even more congested than earlier but I had a nice tailwind and the views were hard to beat so I stayed on the trail. Once clear of Old Town the traffic on the trail thinned out. I saw a photographer at the Morningside bald eagle nest so I stopped to check things out. I didn’t see the nest but a man and a woman came running toward me. As they approached I realized the woman was Kate, a friend from my former job. She and I worked an Earth Day event one year. I have tried to get her into cycling but she prefers to huff and puff up hills on her own two feet. To each his own. We had a brief chat and went our separate ways.

My odometer registered 40 miles as I pulled into the driveway. 60 degrees, 40 miles, 3 friends and 3 errands. My work here is done.

Errandonnee Summary

Errandonnee #2

Category: Store other than a grocery store

Miles: 6

Observation: You do mobile banking your way, I’ll do it mine.

Errandonnee #3

Category: Lunch

Miles: 1

Observation: If you call hot dogs, Haute Dogs shouldn’t you Frenchiy the “dogs” to so you get Haute Chiens? Mais oui.

Errandonee # 4

Category: Library (cause a used books store is pretty close to being a library)

Miles: 9

Observation: If I lived close to Carpe Librum, it would make sense to just move in. What a find! Thanks, Rachel.

Some Flickr pix here.

Marmot to the Rescue

Four hours of sleep and a stuffy head do not a happy bike commuter make. The ride to work was drudgery made worse by the headwind, cold-ish temps (30s), and incessant need to blow my nose and cough up all kinds of gunk. We’re having fun now.

On the plus side, the Mount Vernon Trail  was all but empty so The Mule and I could enjoy my misery in solitude.

The weather reports called for snow this evening. At 4 pm I checked the radar. It was raining along my entire commute route. Just to the west, like the jagged index finger of a wicked witch, there ran a long, thin red band (ice), followed by a sea of blue (snow). I finished up a few odds and ends and started packing.

I was on the road by 430. There was some slushy stuff mixed in with the rain. Not too bad. As long as that red streak stayed to the west I was in good shape.

It rained and rained. Yet I was completely comfy. I wore my Marmot Precip rain suit. This is outerwear originally designed for the military and it really works as advertised. You won’t win any cycling fashion shows wearing it and it makes you about as aerodynamic as a flabby moose (floose?) but you’ll stay warm and dry. And so I was.

I plodded along ignoring my speedometer. I usually commute at 11-13 miles per hour but I was definitely off the low end of that range. Along the way I saw some cyclists and runners without rain gear. They looked unhappy. I was all smiles. I was so happy I didn’t even think about being sick and groggy.

Considering the craptastic weather and my cold, I’d say the first bike commute of the year was a rousing success.

There is an inch of snow outside as I write this at 10 pm. To celebrate my first bike commute, I will eat some quiche and work from home tomorrow. Regrets to Mary and Rhoda but the only Friday Coffee Club I’m doing this week will be in my kitchen.

Kona, anyone?

Hoppy Hoping

It was a splendid early October morning for today’s bike commute on The Mule.  Too bad it’s August. Oh well. I broke out a long sleeve t-shirt (that my daughter bought me in Alaska ironically) and hit the road. I was in the zone the whole way to work. I said hello to the Hoppy Runner and Nancy “Lumberjack Jersey” Duley along the way but I don’t recall anything else. You know the David Byrne feeling you get when you drive somewhere for the umpteenth time, you arrive at your destination, and think to yourself “How did I get here?”

During the day, John Roche,  BikeDC’s Godfather of Craft Beer, announced the details of this year’s Hoppy 100 ride. Last year’s ride was pretty epic, 100 miles, three beer establishments, a ferry ride across the Potomac, a torrential downpour, and a ride home in the dark. What more could you ask for. (And one of the beers was even called Derecho!)

This year’s ride will be a little more urban in focus and only 73 miles. In order not to tie a car up for the day, I’ll have to ride to the start in DC. This should push my mileage for the day up to 100 miles.

There seem to be quite a few folks interested in this year’s escapade, including my personal riding buddy and returning Hopster Lisa. Also, joining us should be Alex Baca who I’ve done two rides with.

My choice of steed is up in the air. I hope to pick up Big Nellie from Bikes at Vienna on Saturday. We’d been waiting for a fork from Big Nellie’s home base in California, but they sent it to the wrong bike shop. Tim of BatV  is hopeful that I’ll be back in the foam seat (just doesn’t have the same ring as “back in the saddle” does it?) again on Saturday. All that said, if it rains on Sunday, I’ll probably ride The Mule cause The Mule’s a good mudder.

Well, the ride home was so nice that words fail me. I had lots of company. There were so many bikes streaming across the 14th Street bridge I did a double take. Of course, most of them blew by me within the next mile. People coming toward me were talking and smiling. If I had regular pants on, I would have sworn that my fly was down.

The last few miles were a bit of a slog. I rode up the Park Terrace hill without my usual verve, which is saying something because I normally climb like a crippled gnu.

Time to shut it down again for the night. Gotta get up early for Friday Coffee Club.

Paul to the Rescue Again

I took a day off yesterday after a  hilly 57-mile ride on Thursday and a 109-mile ride on Friday, both in hot and humid conditions. What I should have done was gone for a short, easy ride, but I mowed the lawn in oppressively swampy weather and took a chill pill for the rest of the day. As a result of this semi-off day, my legs felt tight and sore. Walking down stairs was a little difficult, not unlike the day after running a marathon. (Been there, done that, had to walk downstairs backwards back in the day.)

My plan for today was to go for a nice easy spin on Big Nellie and see where the bent gods took me. As I made my way into Old Town Alexandria, my legs loosened up considerably. I decided to hit a few bike shops to see if they could fix a problem with one of my pedals. On my recumbent I wear sandals and use PowerGrips. These are straps that go across the pedal diagonally. Normally I use toe clips (I am not a fan of clipless pedals) but nerve problems in my left foot led me to try PowerGrips in search of relief. They work reasonably well except that the strap on my right pedal is at a steep angle, and rubs against my toes. The one on my left pedal fits properly, only touching the outside of my pinkie toe. The reason for the discrepancy is that the pedals attached to a metal plate. The left plate looks like an old bottle opener, flat with a bend at the end. The right plate as a second bend in the middle causing it to extend out too far from the pedal.

I stopped at Wheel Nuts in north Old Town but they were closed. Seven miles down. I decided to try the Velocity bicycle co-op in Del Ray a few miles away. They had all kinds of junk parts (just what I thought I needed) but no plates for PowerGrips.

Twenty years ago, The Mule, my Specialized Sequoia, had a recurring problem: it’s headset (the part that the handlebars attach to) kept coming loose. NOBODY could fix it. After giving many mechanics a crack at the problem, I took the bike to Papillion Bicycles on Columbia Pike in Arlington. Bailey, the owner, couldn’t figure it out but he said try Paul at City Bikes. I called Paul and before I could finish my description of the problem he knew what was wrong. And he did. It needed a ten-cent washer that he happened to have among his two bazillion bike parts.

Paul is now the head mechanic at Bicycle Space in DC, so I decided to let him have a go at the pedal problem. Several miles later, Dr. Paul examined the patieDSCN2387nt. “You don’t need a new part. It looks like you bent this one in an accident.” Paul is also psychic. I did indeed crash the bike a year ago and came down on the right side!

He took the right pedal off, walked into a back room with a hammer in his hand and  began the operation. I was a little troubled by the hammer and the fact that he did not sterilize his hands before surgery. After a minute, he came back out, hammer in hand, took a look at the left pedal, and went back to the OR. A few whacks later  he came out and the pedal was exactly right. Dang,

 

With a smile on my face, I headed for home. Not wanting to go back the way I came, I decided to ride back via Anacostia. I picked rode east to 11th Street Northeast and took a right. I rode over the Anacostia River on the wicked awesome new 11th Street Bridge (such a clever name, no?). In Anacostia, 11th Street becomes Martin Luther King Junior Boulevard. The MLK (very L.A. sounding, don’t you think) is an interesting ride. There are signs of gentrification with new restaurants, cafes, condos and such. And there are the depressing signs of DC’s poorest neighborhoods with housing projects, job training places, and people handing out on the street corners. Along the way, I glanced at an electric sign outside a church. 104 degrees!!!

After the first hill, the MLK descends to cross busy South Capitol Street. Here the road surface becomes a washboard. At 25 miles per hour, it’s downright hairy. (DC needs to up its game with some serious roadwork on the MLK.) Once you get up a good head of steam, you are greeted by a red light at the bottom of the next hill. Argh!

From a dead stop, I climbed the next hill, slowly. At Blue Plains Drive I banged a right and headed down a steep hill, breaking the speed limit in front of the DC Police Academy in the process. I am a brazen scofflaw.

After a couple of left turns, I was on the Oxon Cove Trail. Park maintenance has gone by the wayside this year. Tufts of grass four or five inches tall protrude from all the cracks in the pavement. Grass on either side of the trail is two feet tall.

The trail and the park were completely empty. As I rode next to the cove, I spotted the remnants of an large bird of prey, either an eagle or a hawk. There were some big feathers and some bones but not much else; it had been picked clean.

The trail enters the grounds of Oxon Hill Farm DSCN2389where it turns away from the water and climbs, gradually at first, but steeper and steeper all the way to the top. I think this is the toughest hill in the area. On the way up I saw what looked like the hoof and lower leg from a young deer. Yikes!  A little further on, I spotted a beautiful feather, from a hawk or eagle. I stopped and put it in the flag slot on my Arkel seat back bag.

 

The steepest part of the hill remained so I yelled “Get ’em up, Scout” and started to ride. (I didn’t actually say that, but I am pissed that Johnny Depp has screwed with Tonto. Tarzan is Johnny Weissmuller. Avery Brooks is Hawk. Jay Silverheels is Tonto. That’s it. Don’t mess with my childhood icons. Okay, the new Star Trek actors are infinitely better than the old ones, but that’s an anomaly.)

After the monster climb, I got to ride down the crazy fun downhill toward National Harbor, then up the corkscrew hill to the bike path bridge over the beltway. (This corkscrew design is brilliant.)

Next I rode over the Woodrow Wilson Bridge (a good place to watch the fireworks in Old Town next Saturday night, by the way) and onto the Mount Vernon Trail. Then, for reasons that escape me, I rode up another nasty hill on Westgrove Boulevard. After a stop for a Gary’s Lunchbox sammich at Sherwood Hall Gourmet, I rode home.

What started as an easy spin evolved into a 37-mile hill fest. So much for my plan. At least, I got my pedal fixed. Thanks to Paul and Bicycle Space. It was worth the effort.

 

I’d ride a century for a Haute Dog

During the week, I am a mild mannered bike commuter. On four day weekends, I am El Velo Loco. I am also bent, as I am riding Big Nellie, my Tour Easy recumbent.

Yesterday, I decided to go exploring in southeastern Fairfax County. I spent about five hours riding up and down hills. I had intended to ride to Clifton Virginia, cross the Occoquan River and make my way home through Prince William County. I missed a turn. I rode by a prison. It’s been closed for ten years but the guard towers and walls are still there. I can’t imaging living near something like that. I ended up riding down to Mason Neck, an isolated part of Fairfax County. In the process, I rode down an old road that used to cross over the main railroad line on a single lane old wooden bridge. Nowadays, the bridge is blocked off. I went around the barricade and walked my bike over the span. The wood was weathered with ruts where car tires once drove. Southeastern Fairfax County used to have several one lane bridges, twisty roads with blind curves and hills.

Temperatures for this hill-fest topped out at 88 degrees and it was muggy to boot.  I was pleased with my riding though. I never felt uncomfortable and I had no trouble breathing.

Paul is a friend from grad school who occasionally does bike rides when he’s not playing hockey, softball, selling used CDs, DJing, or going to concerts. Oh, and he has a day job too. Paul told me about a new eatery called Haute Dogs and Fries that specializes in hot dogs (and fries). They have one location in Old Town Alexandria and another in Purcellville Virginia. The former is seven miles from my house; the latter is 55 miles away. Guess which one I rode to?

Aw, you’ve read this blog before have you?

I headed out to P’ville at 8:30. It was comfortable outside but I knew that would change. I lucked out with a strong breeze out of the east. I rode the Mount Vernon Trail to the Four Mile Run trail. On the way, I passed Nancy Duley who was veloworking again.

The wind pushed me along Four Mile Run until I picked up the Washington and Old Dominion Trail near Shirlington. 45 miles of mostly gradual uphill is a little like riding a false flat for 4 hours. It looks flat but there is a persistent incline most of the way. I spun away through Arlington, Falls Church, Dunn Loring, Vienna, Reston, Herndon, Sterling, Ashburn, Lessburg, Clarks Gap, Hamilton Station and finally P’ville. Along the way I stopped and topped off my water bottles at every opportunity. At 33 miles, I re-applied sun screen. I brought some snacks and munched away at them whenever my energy felt a little low,

The trail was surprisingly uncrowded. This might have had something to do with the heat and humidity. The temperature peaked at 91 degrees, but it was a wet heat. It was not a lot of fun when the sun broke through the clouds.

There were several stretches where the trail tilts downward as it goes west. I would crank it up to 20 miles per hour. By Leesburg, it was apparent that the tailwind was now coming from my left side. No worries. Pedal, pedal.

I arrived in P’ville around 1:30. After a stop in a bike shop where I inhaled a Gatorade, I made my way to Haute Dogs, in a new strip mall in town. There are several dogs with heavy toppings like chili, cheese, and hot peppers. After 5 hours in the heat, these did not sound appealing so I ordered a Fenway Dog (with relish, mustard and onions I think) and fries. The dog came on a grilled bun and the fries had some sort of seasoning. It was way good. So was the ice cold Coke. Nom nom.

Image

Back on the bike, I found that I now had a tailwind! Woo hoo! It varied a bit, but there was no doubt I’d get an assist most of the way home.

And that gradual uphill was now a gradual downhill. Suffice it to say, I spent a lot of time in my big ring. I continued to stop now and then for cold water and snacks. (I had a chocolate chip ice cream sandwich at a trailside barbecue place in Ashburn. Nutrition is important, you know,)

I’ve been riding the W&OD for a couple of decades. It’s amazing how much it has changed. It used to pass through woods and farmers’ fields beyond Reston. Now, more and more of these rural scenes have been replaced by housing developments and highways. Nature still makes an appearance along the trail though. I saw a huge black snake, a black squirrel, a bunny rabbit, and an indigo bunting during my travels.

Despite the heat, I was doing pretty darn good on my ride home. Around mile 80, my knees started complaining. The only thing I could do was to focus on spinning in low gears and keep on pedaling.

When I finally made it back to the Mount Vernon Trail, I was greeted with a headwind for the last nine miles home. At least, along the river, it was a little less hot (cooler just doesn’t do the trick here).

On the spur of the moment I took the US 1 connector path instead of the MVT south of the beltway. Car traffic getting on to the Woodrow Wilson Bridge across the Potomac River was backed up for over a mile. I rode past the line of forlorn drivers thinking that I was so glad to be on a bike heading in the opposite direction. The drivers’ misery nearly took my mind off the hill I was climbing. This was followed by a bigger hill where Fort Hunt Road crests Beacon Hill. It took a while and my knees were barking but we made it without much drama. The downhill on the backside was so much fun I decided to add one more hill on Sherwood Hall Lane. This made for a final mile that was all downhill. Ahh.

Next time I go to Haute Dogs, I will visit their Old Town location. Because it’s there.

Riding with Mr. Moonlight

Since it is the longest day of the year, it makes sense to go all in on activities. The day started with splendid weather. It was actually sweater weather when I woke up. (This is especially odd since it was 100 degrees on the same day last year.) The day quickly warmed up to the comfortable 80s. Ahhh.

I left home early despite staying up late to watch the NBA finals. On six hours of sleep, I rode Big Nellie into town. The Mount Vernon Trail is just indescribably nice on summer mornings like this. I left about a half hour early so most of my regulars were still messing with visions of sugarplums. The Trash Walker, however, was doing his thing, keeping me on my toes. Under the 14th Street Bridge, Nancy Duley stood next to her bike. This is as far as she goes, like there is a force field just beyond. It would be interesting to see her bounce off the force field while riding. BOING.

She was turning around after escorting Mr. Nancy Duley most of the way to his office in DC. Next time, I am taking her through the force field and into the city. I have to figure out how to get through the barrier because I can’t use my bicycle death ray. It turns out death rays are illegal. Who knew? We’ll breach the barrier somehow.

Friday Coffee Club was once again a men’s only affair for the first hour or so. Kirstin (@ultrarunnergirl) showed up to liven things up a bit. Then, as always, we went our separate ways to earn a buck. Crossing the TR Bridge, the river looked beautiful, the breeze felt splendid, and the skies were blue. I went to work anyway.

After work my son and I took Metro to Nationals Park to watch a ballgame. It was on of my Fathers Day gifts. Our seats were on the lower level behind the third base dugout. As Wayne Campbell would say, “Excellent.” I resisted the urge to yell, “Let’s go! EXPOS!!!” through out the game. (This whole Nationals thing is a charade. They should wear those goofy looking Expos hats a few times a game. Maybe even have the announcers repeat everything en francais.)

The game was a pitching duel with Steven Strasburg striking out 9 in 7 innings. The highlight of the game came when my son and I, singing like a couple of eunuchs, hit the high note of “Take On Me” during the seventh inning stretch. We were tempted to start singing “Staying Alive” in faux Bee Gee falsettos, but thought better of it. (Another beer, though, and I would have gone for it.)

Well, the Expos won and we made our way back to Rosslyn to retrieve the car and Big Nellie. We were prepared to put the bike on the back of the car and call it a night, but the weather was perfect and I was not the least bit tired. So my son drove home and I hit the Mount Vernon Trail.

It was the summer solstice. I expected to find all kinds of Shakespearean characters along the way but only saw 6 cyclists. Three were riding without lights. When I had a solitary stretch of the trail, I turned my headlight off. The moon was intense!  Big and nearly full. Combined with the clear skies it was casting a glow on the river and the greenery along the trail. It looked almost as if someone had sprayed silver on the grass and leaves and water.

I cruised along at 12 miles per hour taking in the views and making sure to keep my mouth shut so as not to take in the bugs. I arrived home at 12:30 ready to call it a day.

Thank you, Mr. Moonlight.

A Regular Tuesday

Is started the day by almost choking on my breakfast. The Washington Post had a big picture of people doing acroyoga. The man on the bottom holding a woman aloft was Raphael, who did the same for my friend Flor a couple of years ago.

With the threat of rain in the afternoon, I switched to The Mule for the bike commute. It was an unusual ride in one regard, I passed seven regulars. That may be some kind of record. It started with the Hoppy Guy, a runner with an awkward hop in his stride. Next up, just outside the Beltway was the Three Step Runner, so named because she runs three steps then walks several before running three steps more. In Jones Point Park, the Hardware Store Man came rolling by on his Serotta. Next up was Nancy “One Bag” “Wave Crash” Duley veering off of Union Street as I approached. I would have been offended but she yelled out at me that I had surprised her by not riding Big Nellie.

Near National Airport, I passed the Trash Walker who had two hands full of trash. Our special guest this morning was Grafxnerd Clone, who reminds me of Laura (@grafxnerd) on Twitter) from Friday Coffee Club.

Although not a regular, Joe (@josephlrc) from Friday Coffee Club made an extra special guest appearance near National Airport. He surprised me so I didn’t get to say “Hello” or do the nod the head thing.

The ride home looked like it might be a wet one, but the rains had passed and I was treated to my second tailwind of the day. I survived the mad streets of Rosslyn. As I turned onto the bike path, Shawn (@shawnofthedread) appeared.

The ride home was uneventful but for a cute field mouse that reminded me of our late great dwarf hamster, Deuce. Oh, and the six Swedish bikini girls who called out to me in Belle Haven Park. I made that up. Belle Haven Park was decidedly uninviting because it still smelled like a sewer.

On the long gradual uphill near the Morningside bald eagle nest, a man on a Lightning recumbent sped past me. I have bent envy.

Northdown Road was a muddy mess, but the road crew was still at work. They waved me through. My chain skipped annoyingly on the hill up to the stone bridge. I have a new chain and cassette so this should not have happened.

I arrived home about 10 minutes earlier than usual, thanks to the push from Mother Nature. I wish tailwinds were a regular