BIKE RIDE DAY 5, 21 June 2008

Our first week of riding is over, and my first period with the team. We left the little town of Republic around 8.00am and headed out in beautiful sunshine for the highest climb of the whole crossing - Sherman Pass, 5,575'. It was more or less 18 miles of pure uphill, mostly for me at about 7mph. The scenery was spectacular, the smells glorious, the traffic unfailingly polite in contrast to the more westerly part of Washington, and if you could forget the pain, it was lovely. But it wasn't painless. I appreciate all the messages of support for my backside, but it has been (relatively) fine. My main problem has been numbness in three fingers of my left hand, in spite of padded riding gloves, changing position often, and regular flexing. It's so bad now that I can't squeeze the toothpaste tube with that hand - literally. Hope the strength comes back.

Anyway, after all the group made it to the top (sometimes there has been as much as 2.5 hours between first and last, which represents a big problem for Emma, Becky & Bill in the SAG wagon) there was much taking of photos with the Sherman Pass sign, as that represented our most-feared obstacle. We have climbed almost 22,000' in 5 days - 4,500' daily on average.

Then the descent, which really favours the heavier guys like me, and which we regard as our reward for all that heavy work dragging ourselves up. Tom Phillips, one of the best climbers, took off first, with me right behind him. After 200 yards I realized I didn't have my glasses on, so had to anchor up and fix that, as some of the bugs and bees that have hit us have been the size of model aeroplanes. (Yesterday something flew inside my shirt on the descent down Wauconda Pass and started to bite. I had to do an emergency stop, fling down bike, pull off helmet and glasses and shirt and get it out.)

Anyway, being a lot heavier than Tom, a 53-year-old maths teacher from Northern California who is very fit, I caught and passed him after about a mile, then had a most glorious descent, hitting a maximum of 47.7mph. This Ride, we keep reminding ourselves, is not a race, but every day there are little mini-races going on between the guys, either first up a climb or first down, and since I'm never going to beat the lightest 2 or 3 on the climbs, I figured I might have a chance today. However, after about 10 miles of more-or-less continuous descent I could see in my mirror two figures catching me, slipstreaming each other to maximise their effort. Pretty soon my nephew Tim and Stuart Rowell caught up with me, (Stuart is an amazingly-fit man for 61, always among the best of the climbers) then the three of us pulled each other along for a while before Stuart stopped to take off a jacket, and Tim and I went like crazy to our lunch stop at Roosevelt Dam on the Columbia River, trying to stop anyone else catching us. This resevoir is amazing. Backed up by the Grand Coulee Dam, it stretches about 150 miles up into Canada and has a total shoreline, including its tributary rivers, of about 5,000 miles.

What we will remember about it mostly is how unbelievably cold it was, as a few of us went swimming in our cycling shorts. Being cut all over by razor-blades is the approximate feeling. It's only about six weeks since some of the high passes opened after the winter snows, and this water was pure snow melt. Tim did a good impression of running on water when he went in - he dived, came up and was back out before anyone had time to get a photo of him in.

Then our finest moment of the Ride so far. Seven or eight of us climbed out of Kettle Falls after lunch and crossed the Colville River en route to Colville, an old western town of 5,000 people. Since it was only seven or eight miles, Tim and I hatched a plan to sprint for home as soon as we saw the town sign. We all got in a paceline doing about 22-24mph, Tom leading for a while, then Stuart, then me, then Dan, then Zack, and finally Tim and I, with the luxury of leaving the Ride tomorrow, broke away and stayed ahead all the way in. Later we reminded each other that before the start we had said we were going to be "big-picture" people - it's about finishing, not competing. Tim said that went out the window for him on the first day. Later Stuart told us he and Zack had had a plan to break just before us and hold us "on the rails" as they went by; everybody was at it. It all adds a wee bit of psychological excitement to the day's craic, and everybody's moves are dissected minutely over the dinner table.

Dinner and hospitality today and tomorrow are being provided by the United Church of Christ in Colville, with Pastor Tammy Bell and some very nice folks. There was a welcome banner in the church hall and loads of fresh fruit, drinks and snacks. They had no programme arranged for us except showers, bike service, food and bed, which was much appreciated.

Today we climbed that pass and rode 60.1 miles, which I think gives us a total of about 348 for the first five days. Undoubtedly the hardest physical thing I have ever done, but also exceedingly satisfying, especially when we give out the brochures telling what we are doing this for.

Thanks as always for your prayers and practical support. If you want to see some pictures - believe Bryan has put some on the Ride blogspot -

http://www.blogger.com/www.yfcbikeride.org/blogspot

DAYS 3 & 4 OF THE RIDE, 19 June 2008

Apologies for non-communication the last two days, but we really are in the backwoods of northern Washington state, and there is no network coverage anywhere. So I'm writing this on Friday afternoon, but I'm not sure when it will go from this machine.

Anyway, Day 3 was from the wee town of Twisp up over a pass called Loup Loup. The whole thing was only 49 miles, but the pass was about 4020', and it was a straight climb of 12 miles without reprieve - absolute murder. However, once we made the top there was a great downhill run into the wee town of Okanogan, hitting around 43mph. Stuart Rowell and I were going down together, riding abreast when there was nothing behind, pulling into single file when cars were coming. I saw this white car approaching in my helmet mirror and we went line astern, probably a quarter of a mile before he got to us. But the driver obviously wanted to teach us a lesson, as he swept by us at about 60, and probably no more than a foot away. Had either of us wobbled he would have had us.
When we got down the hill there was a left turn off the State highway onto a minor road, and Paul Bayfield told us the same driver had done an extremely dangerous maneuvre on him too. Paul had looked behind, had seen that he had plenty of time to signal, get into the outer lane and make his left turn before the white Corolla arrived. But the driver hammered on his horn and pulled out across the median and passed Paul, who was already lining up to make his turn, and who could easily have been killed. This was the worst, but several others gave us hand signals which we hoped meant "One way Jesus!"

Anyway, we got into Okanogan safely and stopped at a bike shop for a few things guys needed. I was standing on the pavement when a guy came by and asked us if we were the group from YFC. Turned out he was the local Baptist pastor, Bill King, and he had read about us in the local paper, The Chronicle. We had a good time visiting with him, as they say, right there on the pavement.
He directed us to a local park to eat our lunch, kindly provided by the good folks of the church in Twisp (Balderdash definition: apparently an old Indian word for a Yellowjacket - but not sure what kind of a bug that is). However, the present-day bugs were so vicious that we had to eat sitting on a carpark tarmac well away from the grass.

The Okanogan Valley and river is beautiful, but fairly poverty-stricken. Even the Americans in the party have been amazed at the living standards of many of the people we have met. The little church in Marblemount (pop about 200) runs afoodbank every week where people can come in, register, and take away a big bag of groceries. This week they expected to register about 175 people.

One home some of us stayed in had no fridge, many have utterly-dilapidated gardens/yards with old junk, lots of raggedy dogs and chewed-up fences and grass. Yet the Christians among them humble us by their sacrificial giving, not only of their food but even their beds.
Lack of work is a huge problem. It's either logging, farming or a wee bit of tourism, and if you can't get into one of those, seems like you are on food stamps.

After Okanogan we had a fast, wind-behind-us downhill run into the wee town of Riverside, where the barges which came up the Columbia River and then onto the Okanogan finally docked and were met by horses and carts and then the railway. Now it's glory has faded, and only about 200 people live there. But it has a general store, a Diner & Grill, and a huge Western outfitters run by a very nice blond lady of about 60 (altho one of the guys thought she was late thirties) Donna, resplendent in pink shirt, blue jeans and a huge diamante-decorated Western belt. The store was like Aladdin's Cave if you were horsey. There were lassoos/lariats - none of your old brown colour but pink, fluorescent green, orange. There were shirts in all kinds of check. There were belts (one that caught my eye had the tops of shotgun cartridges riveted to it). They also make their own Western saddles, with price tags from $1500 upwards. I pulled out what I thought was a fairly fetching look - brown leather waistcoat, white, fringed cowboy boots and my black Lycra cycling shorts. I'm sure there are clubs somewhere that would welcome me with open arms with that look.
Paul, Arek and I were on a wee explore (which didn't take long) and next we found this kid called Tyson holding a month-old St Bernard puppy. He had ten of them for sale, $500 each, and they and their two parents and a Boxer dog seemed to rule the shack they lived in.

Then we found an old car sitting in a mechanic's shop, and itl turned out to be a Model A Ford from 1917, which belonged to this kid's grandfather. But he didn't much want to talk about it, nor did his wife sitting by on an old seat and holding another dog on a leash. Americans are fond of dogs.

Back to the church, quick shower (already becoming apparent which of the team take a long time and which whizz in and out) then down to the main town of the area, Omak, pop 6,000, for their Thursday night joint-churches outreach. This was surprisingly good, and well-attended. There was a small park in the town centre with a covered stage. First they provided food for all who wanted it - macaroni and mince (the default here we think for any event requiring you to feed unknown numbers - we have had it every day but one so far), plus fruit and juice.

They had invited a band from Portland, Oregon called Issachar who were excellent - very clear words, very good testimony, and Bryan Blomker and I also spoke and did a bit of intro to our group. Lots of Indian kids, mixed-race families, and dogs again, including two tethered to my table-leg which their female owners were hoping to sell for $150 each - "provided the kids get permission."

Six of us went home then with a widowed lady called Lynn, who lived about 20 miles away up a series of canyons, in a log cabin built by her late husband, with spectacular views over a huge basin to buttes beyond, with no road in sight, no sound of traffic, and as the moon came up, only the odd late-night bird calling and (of course) dogs barking from some of the half-a-dozen homesteads that you could see in the distance across the valley. Wonderful for us, but lonely for her, and she has it on the market with a view to moving into Omak.

Four of us guys slept in a kind of loft above the lounge and kitchen, reached by a staircase that had absolutely no guardrail around the hole in the floor where it reached the upstairs. One false step in a groggy trip to the bathroom in the dark and you could be out of action for weeks.
Disconcerting also was to watch Dan bedding down. He sleeps on his back hooked up to an oxygen tank via a full face-mask - I think to help with a snoring problem. When he's unconscious it looks like a medical experiment in a Dracula film.

Day 4 and our landlady's alarm went off at 4.00am. She made us a great breakfast, took a few photos, a random deer wandered by outside, and we headed back down the canyons to Riverside for depart. This was moving, as there is a bright wee sprite in the church called Linda, 4 years old, ginger hair, a beautiful smile, big into running round in circles and doing ballet twirls. Her Dad quit,, and when she was six months old her Mum, Roxanne, was diagnosed with cancer. Roxanne has hardly any hair, and knows that humanly-speaking she is dying. Her dearest wish is to live long enough to see Linda graduate from High School.

This was a tough day of riding. The first 15 were OK, then from a wee town called Tenasket the road went straight up for many miles - a real killer. That was followed by a long series of drops and climbs before we got to the town of Wauconda - literally one service-station/store/cafe. Bryan, Arek & I were together at this point, and as it was a very hot day our bodies were crying out for chocolate milk shakes, and this cafe made the best we had ever tasted. That got us up Wauconda Pass, 4310', a long hard climb again, then a fast run down into the town of Republic, pop about 954, where we were hosted by the Nazarene Church and slept on the floor. They were involved with a local programme called Youth Dynamics who had some Christian bikers up, and we went along to hang out with the kids. The YD building had a big log porch right on Main St, and the bikers lined their bikes up and showed them off. Everyone had exotic names - Spider (on my left) spoke, and Catfish, and tattoos and silver and turquoise rings were the order of the day. Everyone who spoke had been in jail, and the kids really listened. Jerry (on my right) said:: "you young girls, look after yourselves. Jesus really loves you. I tell my daughters' boyfriends - I've been in jail before and I'm not afraid to go back - so be careful!"

A great night ending an extremely hard day. Thanks for praying - no accidents at all so far, not counting a couple of people falling over their bikes when walking!
Sleep well.

DAY 2 OF THE RIDE, 18 June 2008

Dear folks:
I'll start by saying right off that this was without question the hardest physical challenge I have ever done in my 56 years!

We knew that today was to be the toughest of the whole 60 days, and it didn't disappoint. We started at 8.00am from Marblemount, and after a nice fast, gentle run of 9 or 10 miles to a village called New Halem, we started to climb, and basically we did that for the next 45 miles, with several awful descents back almost to the height we started from (140 feet) - awful because we were throwing away all the height we had so laboriously gained. There was also a very stiff breeze which sometimes helped, sometimes hindered as we jinked and turned.

We climbed two passes, Rainy Pass at about 4500 feet, the other, Washington Pass, at 5744 feet. Alltogether, according to the guys with GPS and altimeters, we climbed 7490 vertical feet, or the equivalent of up Slieve Donard on bikes twice, and then halfway up a third time.

It was tough in the extreme, but everyone of us did it. I rode with my nephew Tim all day, until the last ten miles, when I saw that if we kept to the proper route I would make my first-ever century - 100+ miles in one day. So Emma's friend Paul and I rode together for the last ten, and came in at 101.40 miles. My average, if you like stats, was 13.2.

We are all whacked - some more than others, and everyone has headed to bed just after 8.30. Hosts tonight were Twisp Baptist Church - lovely wee country town, but Pastor John seemed fairly cautious. Nice people - spaghetti dinner + good cake and brownies.

Can't write any more. Thanks again for all your support and your prayers.