Today, for the second year in a row, I woke up at 5:30 and drove over an hour.  To do a bike ride. In 50 degree temps.  Am I nuts? Well, yes, but that’s beside the point. The occasion for my early rumblings was the Potomac Pedalers’ Backroads Century in the Shenandoah Valley.  Since I am a bit of a weenie, I rode the metric century, a 65-miler squeezed in between Berryville, Wincester and Front Royal, Virginia.

As I drove my car over the crest of the Blue Ridge, I could see a layer of thick fog covering the valley below. A half-hour later I was riding through the fog with my red blinky light on.  Not that it was necessary.  Most of the local drivers were still sleeping off their Saturday night.  2,000 participants rode one of five different courses. You could choose between 25, 30, 50, 65 and 100 miles.  65 miles is just the right balance between pleasure and pain for me.

The course takes you through rolling farmland.  Other than starting and stopping in Berryville, you never actually ride through a town.  The course designers cleverly keep riders outside the mean streets of the northern Shenandoah Valley’s metropolises.  And they also avoid riding on major highways of which there are a few.  It’s really nothing but backroads past farms and fields in the weeks just before the trees start their colorful fall display.  Early in the ride there are no cars to speak of. Later the church-going crowd appears followed by the late rising heathens of the valley.   Mostly drivers are patient with the rolling hoards.  Today’s ride actually had two rolling hoards. A Ride to Recovery group was riding into Berryville as we were leaving, Apparently, this is a group involved with re-habbing disabled veterans. Many riders wore red, white, and blue outfits.  Some bikes and trikes had pole on the back for other riders to push.  (I could have used a push or two on some of the steeper climbs.)  

After the waves of R2R riders, it was just the 2,000 of us banging out the miles.  For the most part, the hills were nice rollers, allowing hill hopping.  To hill hop, you ride fast down one hill and use your momentum to cruise up the next.  In my younger days, I could do this for hours.  Still it’s fun to defy the climbing gods for a morning.

There were a few challenging hills to climb.  This is only fair since they almost always were followed by a screaming downhill. I topped out at a little over 40 miles per hour.  I don’t know which hill that was on, because, frankly, I think it makes more sense to watch the road than my speedometer. 

And of course there were many miles with nothing but flat easy riding.  Most of my riding is to and from work on a narrow bike bath, so I rarely get my speed going above 13 miles per hour.  On this ride I could easy bring my cruising speed up to 18 miles per hour. This may not sound like much but my 1993 Specialized Sequoia is quite a tank (and I make a weighty turret). 

The cool temps lasted for about half the ride. I hate to see the summer heat go but I was comfortable wearing my commuting vest over a long t-shirt.   My only real discomfort was cold toes caused by my wet shoes and socks.  That fogs settles into dew and I walked through wet grass every time I got off my bike. 

Eventually, the fog and clouds burned off and we were left with a final ten miles in the 70s, a very comfortable climate for pounding my way toward the finish.   I did skip the rest stop at mile 48 but only because I had a flat at 55 and it sucked up 20 minutes of my ride.  (It was my second flat all summer so no complaints here.) 

Sorry about the paucity of pictures. If I took a shot of everything I found interesting or scenic, I’d still be out on the course.  I didn’t even take a shot of a cow and there were hundreds along the route, cheering us on with their vigorous chewing.  And I passed up beaucoups barns too.  You didn’t expect me to stop on a downhill for that, did you?
 
 This is my favorite ride in the mid-Atlantic.  It’s right up there with the Erie Canal west of Rochester, the Great Allegheny Passage through Ohiopyle State Park in Pennsylvania, the Maui downhill ride from the rim of Haleakala to the sea, and the ride through the Presidio across the Golden Gate Bridge to Sausalito,   If you live in the DC area, you really owe it to yourself to do this ride at least once.

Bicycle Weather Vane, a photo by Rootchopper on Flickr.

I took today off. After lollygagging about the house all morning, I went down to Indian Head, MD for a leisurely ride. The weather gods were in a good mood so I had a nice 25 mile spin. At the eastern end of the trail I came upon this clever and appropriate weather vane.

All along the trail were subtle signs of extensive flooding from recent tropical storms. Tall grasses were bent over and painted with a fine coating of mud. Trees had fallen across the trail and had been cleared in haste leaving horizontal trees bowing toward the trail.

If you live around here and have never ridden the Indian Head Rail Trail, you should give it a go. There are some wonderful wetlands along the trail that are often filled with beautiful water fowl. And, if you are lucky like I was today, you might roust a hawk at rest in the tall trail-side grass.

Enjoy your weekend everybody.

Bike Commute 102: Poo!!!!, a photo by Rootchopper on Flickr.

The perils of bike commuting are without number. Inattentive, aggressive, impaired, incompetent drivers ought to be enough to worry about. Or that occasional jogger who does a button hook into your path. Or even the little kid or dog or squirrel who darts out into your path. These are all minor problems compared to the dreaded pile of poo! Nobody expects the pile of poo. Then it appears. And you hope you have quick enough reflexes to avoid it. Otherwise, the dreaded pile of poo might leave a bad taste in your mouth – especially if you’re riding a recumbent and are low to the ground.

Bike Commute 100: Flags , a photo by Rootchopper on Flickr.

Today was my 100th bike commute of 2011. My Sequoia was in the shop so I rode my comfy Tour Easy recumbent to work. Apparently somebody realized that this was the big 1-0-0 and they put up scores of American flags on the railing of the 14th Street Bridge.

Or maybe the flags had something to do with September 11th. Like last year, and 2009, and 2008…..

If you are familiar with Bill Cosby’s early records, you’ll know that he made a name for himself telling the story of Noah.  In his routine, Cosby’s annoyed and busy Noah has a conversation with God who tells him to build an ark with the dimensions in cubits.  Noah asks God, “What’s a cubit?”

Those of us who live in the Mid-Atlantic and Northeastern United States have seen enough rain in the last few weeks to turn us all pruney.  (How do you spell that anyway?)  Yesterday I drove for 6 hours from Westport. Connecticut to DC in a driving rain.  From what I could tell, New Jersey might as well be renamed Lake Jersey at this point. Delaware, Maryland and Virginia are no better.

Five minutes after leaving home this morning, the skies opened up.  Within a minute or two I was soaked to the bone.  All day I could look out my office window and see downpour after downpour.  Just before leaving for home I checked the weather radar on the Internet.  It showed massive rain straight up the Chesapeake Bay and Potomac River.  Thinking “no guts, no glory” I headed out.  As it turned out the skies were kind.  I rode through a little light rain here and there but nothing too bad.  The real problem was on the ground. Puddle after puddle after puddle all the way home. Many were so big that I pulled my feet off the pedals and rode through like a little kid.  Here’s the kind of puddle I am talking about.

It’s supposed to continue raining for the next several days.  I’m thinking I better figure out what a cubit is.

The fall event riding season fast approaches and despite logging a gajillion miles this year I am feeling woefully slow and old.  And that’s before I get on my bike. A summer of too many Yeunglings, I’m afraid.

One of the fall events is the Hell of the Mid-Atlantic.  This ride is officially called the 50 States Ride  The route careens around the District of Columbia like a drunk with the whirlies.  It’s a concept ride.  Roads bearing the names of all 50 states in all 8 wards of the city are included.  Only in DC is Rhode Island big and Texas tiny.  It’s actually a very clever 63-mile route mapped out by the Chief Masochist at the Washington Area Bicyclists Association . As you do the ride you go to every nook and cranny in the city.  It really gives you an appreciation for the economic, social, ethnic, and topographical diversity of the city. 

Did I mention topography?  Let me put it this way.  DC is a lot hillier than you think.  And at the bottom of every hill is a red light.  So when you do this ride you pretty much start climbing hill after hill after hill from a dead stop.  I am once again doing this ride with my friends Jeff and Florencia. Jeff is a triathlete.  He is nice enough to go slow so that he can chat with me while I am gasping for air.  He drinks fruit smoothies during rides. Florencia is a rock climber who also does acroyoga. Basically she is unaware that gravity is a law of nature. She climbs hills on a bike like a spider on a wall. I climb hills on a bike like a bison with lumbago. I am thinking of bringing a lasso and throwing it around her on Kansas Avenue so that she can tow me to the top. She only eats almonds during rides.

This is all to say that I decided the other day that I should add a hill or two to my commute so that I can prepare for this joyful event.  I read somewhere that Beacon Hill is the biggest hill between DC and Richmond.  I doubt that this is true but it is a challenging climb.  And since it is a ridgeline you can climb it on a variety of streets. Today I chose the most direct route, Park Terrace Drive. I have no idea what the elevation gain is but it takes me 5 minutes to get up this bitch.  (There are a half dozen nearby streets that go even higher up and are steeper but I will leave them til next week.)

As I was coming home I enjoyed the flat, calm and scenic ride along the Potomac for 12 miles. 

Ah, the Mercifully Flat River

As if to get me revved up for the hill to come, I had to cross the George Washington Parkway at rush hour. The Park Service cleverly place a traffic island in the middle of the road so I could wait for 10 of 20 thousand speeding cars to rush by.  Without this island I’d either still be out there waiting or lying on the side of the road with the rest of the flattened critters.

I made it across thanks to an act of God. Then I hit the hill. I swear it’s a big hill. See, can’t you tell.

Hey, wait. That looks easy.  Damned camera. Try this picture instead.

Okay. So maybe it doesn’t look like much of a hill, I can assure you that cameras can be deceiving.

I figure if I ride this every day for three weeks, I’ll be in great shape to tackle Alabama Avenue SW.  Sadly there is another 50 miles of hills after that.  I may end up dead on the road in Anacostia but I’ll be damned if I’m going to my grave with a fruit smoothie and a fistful of almonds in my belly.  If you put your ear next to my mouth, you’ll no doubt hear me say, “Ice cold Yeungling” just before I die.

Bike Commute 93: Hurricane Irene Is No Match for My Sequoia, a photo by Rootchopper on Flickr.

Irene thought she was tough. She thought she could keep me from riding to work. She was wrong, so wrong. This tree is no match for the powers of the Sequoia. Bwa Ha Ha!

Actually, in the interest of truthiness, the Sequoia and I squeezed under the tree on the right side of this picture. I am might glad this big boy didn’t come down when I was riding the trail. It is the second tree to fall in this area of the trail (just north of the Slater’s Lane apartment tower) in the last couple of years. The other tree was even bigger. (I had to climb over that one.)

To their credit the National Park Service was out with their clean up crews today. They had this bad boy chopped down to size and cleared away for the evening commute.

Irene Aftermath, a photo by Rootchopper on Flickr.

Irene was a massive storm and the winds during the overnight hours had us all worried, especially after we lost power at 2 am. I went out in the morning to assess the damage and this was it. A section of a crummy old fence had blown over. Hopefully the crew that demolishes my deck tomorrow will cart this off with that debris.

It started out like any other day. I rode my bike along the Potomac River with a nice tailwind.  It being Friday and a day on which my calendar at work was empty, I didn’t go very fast.,  When I arrived in DC I figured I could take a few minutes to check out the newest (although officially still unopened) monument.  The Martin Luther King Memorial is nicely designed.  The man himself is carved out of a giant block o’rock like some sort of Mount Rushmore in miniature.  He looks out over the Tidal Basin more or less toward the memorial to that noted slave owner Thomas Jefferson.

Some think it is odd that the King Monument is carved from white stone instead of black.  I think it is a good choice because otherwise it would look like Boba Fett had frozen King in carbonite a la Han Solo at the end of the Empire Strikes Back (by far the best of the Star Wars movies, by the way.) 

The memorial includes some stone walls that showcase some of Dr. King’s inspiring words.  I couldn’t see much of them because the Park Service had erected an attractive chain link fence to keep me from enjoying the memorial too much.  I am sure there is some deep meaning in the fence keeping me from fully appreciating the memorial.  I trust they will remove it soon.

Having escaped the imaginary clutches of Jobba the Hutt using my frame pump as a light saber, I made it to work with 15 minutes to spare. Tailwinds are grand.

The ride home took on a quite different flavor.  It was super muggy and  a steady wind was in my face.  Preparations for the arrival of hurricane Irene were visible here and there.  The tennis bubble in East Potomac Park had been deflated.  I think this is a shame because I’ve always wanted to see what one of those suckers looks like when it is airborne. Oh well, another time.  As it is, it looks like a giant came along and was preparing to fold his bed linens.

In Old Town Alexandria, the shop keepers on Union Street had spent the day preparing for the usual flood.  Union Street is one block from the Potomac and it sits at the base of a hill down which storm water cascades. Basically it’s a mess every time we have a big storm or a snow melt.  The first floor of the Virginia Store, which sells stuff made in and about Virginia, is several steps below the sidewalk. These folks were nearly wiped out when hurricane Isabel came through a few years ago.  This time they moved all their wares to the second floor BEFORE the storm arrived.  .  

For many years one of my favorite book and music stores, Ollson’s, occupied two stories at the corner of Union Street and Wales Alley. Amazon.com killed them and the property was recently renovated into a spiffy looking saloon.  Having spent several hundred thousand dollars on the endeavor, the owners (who own several other Old Town establishments well away from the river) faced Irene with tongue firmly in cheek.  Their plastic, sandbag and plywood barricades posted signs of wit and whimsy. (Okay, that’s the last time I use “whimsy” in this blog.)

If you’re facing an utterly miserable couple of days, you might was well go with the flow, so to speak, and have fun. This saloon is throwing a hurricane watch party. Let’s hope the revelers have dry feet when the party ends.

I arrived home to find this interesting looking gizmo in my backyard. We are having our deck replaced and the work was supposed to start tomorrow.  That’s been postponed until next week in deference to the wrath of Irene, which augers well for the project. (Sorry,  I couldn’t help myself.)

Good luck all you East Coasters.  Let’s hope Irene is as interesting and innocuous as the Mineral Virginia earthquake earlier this week.

Bike Commute 91: Earthquake Detour, a photo by Rootchopper on Flickr.

Gadsby’s Tavern, a colonial era building is at the far end of this block on the left. Alexandria City Hall is on the end of this block on the right. Both were reported to have been damaged by the recent 5.8 earthquake and strong aftershock in the early morning hours today.