Bicycle Tour.

Saturday, April 7, 2012

I recently bought a brand new bicycle, a touring bike. If a road bike is the equivalent of a thoroughbred horse, I got a Clydesdale, or a draft horse. I had been training on Dad’s old road bike for a long time, but more seriously recently, doing just under a hundred miles a weeks for a month. I had done my homework online and talked to other people about touring bicycles before I chose the one I wanted, found a dealer, and had it shipped from the factory. I got it, put some miles on it, came back the next day for the rack, panniers (expensive waterproof bags that hang off the sides of the rack), and a few other accessories before heading out on my trip. I left Reno last Monday with about 30 pounds of gear and headed to Carson City. I burned through the oatmeal I had eaten pretty early and the banana I brought for a snack as well. I stopped at a gas station in Washoe flats, midway between Reno and Carson City and had a few corn dogs, some chips, and cookies. I filled up my water bottles and camel back and set out again. I had never ridden to Carson City before. It was cool to be on a road I hadn’t traveled before; it was long, flat, and straight. I had a great view of the back side of the ski resort I used to work at, and took in the scenery of the farms and ranches that I normally never got a chance to see while I whizzed by on the 395 South. I stopped another cyclist for directions when the road stopped and was about to spit me on the freeway. I knew that I had a huge climb ahead of me, and it gave me heart to hear that he had done the climb on Christmas and he was much older than me. I stopped in South Carson in a parking lot and rested. I was cold. I put on the arm warmers I had got at REI and sort of cursed the guy that talked me out of getting the warmer ones. Boy was I wrong, shortly after I got back on the bike and started the climb, I heated up. The arm warmers came off, the jersey got unzipped, and after awhile, since the go was so slow and the shoulder so wide, I took off my helmet too. It is about 23 miles from where I stopped in Carson City to where I stopped in South Lake Tahoe with a 1,435’ climb in elevation. It was a beast of a climb, but I did it without complaint (though I did run out of water) and without using my lowest gears. I pulled into a casino and started in on my MRE while I used the internet on my phone to figure out where I was going to stay that night. I had put out a few requests on the couchsurfing website I use to travel and host travelers, but hadn’t gotten any responses. I also had an account on another website called warmshowers.org that provides lodging to touring cyclists. Warmshowers is a little better because it has phone numbers listed, and after one unsuccessful attempt, I found someone who was willing to host me. I asked him what kind of beer he would like and he wasn’t particular. As I whizzed down the hill a little ways in town, I noted that it had grown a little dark and COLD! I’m glad that I brought my snowboarding jacket, I needed it then. I was amazed at just how much difference a six pack could make putting it all in one pannier. The bike drove a little wonky the 12 miles to my host’s house.

I used my smart phone to map the route and while it worked pretty well, I wish I hadn’t been so technologically dependent for this trip. For example, I had written down directions for a route later in the trip that I had gotten from my phone, and I realized that it had me turn right, go one mile, turn left, go one mile, turn left, go one mile, then turn right again to put me back on the same road that I was already on! It does this to keep the cyclist off of heavily trafficked roads, but I think that it’s better to just stay on the road you’re on sometimes.

My phone was dying as I was approaching my destination, and it lost service and the map wouldn’t re-update itself. I was glad when I finally pulled in. My hosts name was Kevin and he was ski patrol at one of the resorts in Tahoe. He showed me pictures of previous cycling tours he had done, we had a beer, and chatted for awhile before he showed me where my room was, gave me a towel for a shower, and went to bed. I made a rookie mistake and forgot to put on sunscreen that day. It didn’t help that I was riding towards the sun most of the day and in increasing elevation. My arms and tops of my legs were fried pretty good and I didn’t sleep very well that night. I woke up with the spins and I think it was because I didn’t hydrate well enough. I was also starving and didn’t have anything to eat. Not a bad first day though, almost 80 miles with a 1500’ climb.

Kevin’s house, even though it was 12 more miles from where I thought I was ending my first day (by far the most arduous to date day I had done on a bicycle, the most before that being half the distance with none of the weight) was still on route to my next stop in Placerville. He gave me some eggs and toast for breakfast and I was very grateful as I was starving.

I was on highway 50 for a long leg of the trip. My first 45 minutes on the bike that day were quite a climb, and then I was in top gear blasting down the grade. I know it might sound strange, but even though my second day was the least amount of distance (62 miles) with the most amount of downhill, it was my least favorite day. Highway 50 doesn’t have much of a shoulder, and you have to be very aware of every little bump in the road when you’re descending at breakneck speeds. Your hands start to hurt from the static position they are in on the brakes, and cars are passing you with only a few feet of breadth. I stopped at the first little grocery I saw in Strawberry, and not wanting to repeat the mistake I had made the night before, I bought way too much. It didn’t hit me until after a mile or so later that I had just spent $28 on 6oz salami, 8 Cliff bars, a pack of donuts, small bottle of milk, a honey bun, and a 5 hour energy caffeine shot (I had one of those caffeine shots right before doing the pass the day before and I think it really helped me, though I am curious to why the triathlete who had given it to me didn’t want it, as if caffeine can have a negative effect). It was food, but I wasn’t going to eat it all at once, and therefore, it was weight that I had to carry. I really had it in my head that touring on a bicycle would cost next to nothing after the initial expense (which was substantial, my 2012 Surly Long Haul Trucker bicycle with Topeak rack and Ortleib waterproof panniers was around $1700). You have to fuel the machine though! I remember doing a little bit of math a few days before that. It was something like the cost of loaf of bread, ham, and turkey, worked out to be $0.69 a sandwich, which was 250cal and was burned in 5 miles or something like that. On a caloric basis, it’s only a little bit cheaper than gas in a car. I’m sure there are people who could argue different things about what to eat to make it cheaper, but the bottom line is, you gotta pay to play. Food costs money and it takes food to pedal.

I was making great time and about 20 miles from Placerville I decided to rest for awhile. It was beautiful countryside, and you could see the American River from time to time. I was pretty stiff after I got back on the bike and I’m pretty sure the first upgrade I get will be a new saddle.

It was around the 18 miles to Placerville sign that the hills started again and I was in low spirits. I think back on it now and think that I really should have had something more substantial than just some cliff bars, I think a sandwich or burrito or something would have set me right. The descent started again and was chugging along. Somewhere along the line, seamlessly, 50 turned into the freeway and I didn’t realize it until a highway patrolman sternly told me to “GET OFF ON THE NEXT EXIT, YOU NEED TO TAKE BLAH BLAH BLAH”. I obliged and was in a place called Apple Hill I think. I went down Carson street along some farms and wineries. I was checking directions on my phone when another cyclist offered some assistance. Winston told me I was on the right road and it would spit me right into downtown Placerville. He inquired about my route and told me that there was a beautiful river trail that goes from outside Placerville all the way to Davis. I had thought to stop in Sacramento the next day, but realized that if I went to Davis instead, I could probably just make the next leg of the trip the next day and shave off a day. I had arranged to stay with the mother of some friends that night (well, actually, it was a different night, but she was still ok to host me) and got directions to the house. Nine miles doesn’t seem like much after you’ve done 55, but let me tell you, those last miles are long ones and there were some HILLS. I finally, for the first time, used my granny gear. Kathy was just getting in as I was pulling into her driveway. We chatted for a moment and she told me where the shower was. I was getting ready when I heard her say “Shad, I need you!” and I could hear a touch of desperation in her voice. I ran down the hall and he 93 year-old father was on the floor with his arm pinned behind him in an awkward position. She asked if wanted her to call 911, and he said he wanted to be moved onto his back and then on his feet. I got behind him with my arms under his elbows and picked him up. It was fortunate I was there because I don’t think Kathy could have done it by herself. He was pretty shaken up after that, but for the most part ok. The nurse, who had never failed to be there, had car trouble and called Kathy to let her know that she wasn’t going to be there on her scheduled time and so Kathy went home immediately afterward. I found out later that he had been like that for three hours! Poor guy.

I had bought food at a supermarket in town before heading to her house; rice and beans with a can of corn, two cans of cooked chicken, and jalapeno cheddar tortillas. It cost around $12 and filled me up that night, part of breakfast and all of lunch the next day. It was really nice having dinner with Kathy that night and swapping stories about the boys. Riley and Kenyon are her identical twin sons. Riley lived next door to me and we hung out alot and did a cycle gatherings (Critical Mass) in San Francisco with Kenyon. I was really into skateboarding when I was a teenager and so was Kenyon, though I have to grudgingly admit that he was and is still probably better than me at it. I stayed in his room that night surrounded by familiar skateboarding posters and icons.

I didn’t sleep as well as I would have liked, I was still sunburned and though I had drank more water than I did the day before, I was still a little dehydrated. There was also a book lying around by one of my favored authors AND it was about a teenage skateboarder, so I got sucked into that as well. I headed out the next morning after breakfast and was on the road for my longest day.

Remember earlier when I talked about how my bike was riding a little wonky when I added six pack of beer? Well, sometimes I would take stuff out of one and put it in the other, and forget what went where, and they became a little bit unbalanced. I repacked everything and shortly after I left I noticed they were rattling alot. There is a little lever on the side that I can adjust with an allan wrench, and I had to pull over and do this before getting on my way. Sometimes it feels like I can’t get more than a mile or two without having to pull over to pee, take off/put on a jacket, or get something out of my camel back or panniers. It’s hard to get moving sometimes, but I guess that’s how bicycle touring is sometimes. Someone told me later that the mileage I was doing was kind of alot, but I figured that since I was only going for a handful of days with only 35lbs of stuff, that I could do a little more.

Just outside of Placerville there is a beautiful bicycle trail that goes on for a long time. I think it went even farther than I took it and I just lost it somehow and if I had stayed on it, it would’ve taken me all the way to Sacramento or Davis. I got lost somehow, for a long time and didn’t realize it and instead of riding for just over six hours, it ended up being more like nine. I was alongside I-80 when the sun was going down over the mountains. My directions got really strange once I was in Davis trying to find my hosts’ house. When I switched the format from bicycle directions to automobile directions on my phone, they really simplified and I needed to learn this earlier I think.

The people I stayed with were extremely accommodating. They fed me almost as soon as I walked in the door, pasta with pesto sauce. They offered to let me do laundry, use their computer, and gave me a towel to use to take a shower and a really comfortable futon. Rachel didn’t have to work till the afternoon the next day and wanted me to meet her friend and have breakfast together. It felt like I was cheating not doing the last 80 miles, but that’s the way it goes sometimes. I only got to speak with my host a little bit more the next day. He made me coffee though and I was really grateful to stay with someone who had done bicycle touring before, so he knew how grueling it was sometimes and what he could provide to make the situation ideal for the traveler.

I learned alot of things during this trip. It once again reinforced my belief that doing your homework beforehand and going into a situation prepared makes difficult things a little more comfortable. I would look at huge hills and think “If I get a running start at this, I might make it up before I get tired”. Then they wouldn’t be so big sometimes when I actually was on them. I brought a tent and a sleeping bag, but I didn’t bring a sleeping mat. I thought “I’m not going to use it anyway”. Why would I bother bringing a sleeping bag and a tent then? Apparently it was because I knew somehow I would end up going camping while I was here because that’s what happened.