[OrRando] Three Capes Brevet -- one retrospective

[D. Jason Penney]

Riding to the start of a randonneur's ride at Grand Lodge-in the dark-is
almost getting routine.  Heading down SR-47 we saw a bicyclist, complete
with high-tech blinkie on his rear.  We thought for a moment that it might
be a Randonneur riding to the start of his ride in grand tradition, but
no.he didn't have a front light at all.  Just a Real Rider.

 

The parking lot at Grand Lodge was a bustle of activity at 5:30 in the
morning.  I hope they like us there.we sure took up a lot of their parking
yesterday.  They predicted 70-ish riders, and judging from the crowd that
set off at 6 AM, that looked to be about right.  The other humorous question
is-just how many of us wear Shower's Pass jackets now?  We should be an
advertisement for them.  I'm guessing I saw between 15 and 25 of them on
different riders

 

Hurdling down the main drag in Forest Grove was quite a sight, with the
entire group bedecked in many many different lights. During a fast cruise
down Stringtown Road we passed another Real Rider (this one without lights
or even a helmet), then aimed towards Gales Creek.  As the sun started to
rise we got just a spit of mist which turned to high clouds and rapidly
warming temperatures.

 

The climb to Timber was uneventful.  It seems like the turnaround was before
the start of the clear-cuts, so you could pretend like you were in the midst
of unspoiled Oregon old-growth.  My Sekine (seh-kee-neh) just had a
drivetrain transplant a week or so ago, and the new derailleur cable decided
to break in while I was doing the climb.  A judicious twist of the adjuster
barrel, and there were no issues for the rest of the day.

 

Back out at SR-6, it seems like we started the biggest climb of the day
almost immediately.  The day rapidly grew warmer (the lower 50's) almost
immediately.  Surprise two about the Sekine: it's heavy.  OK, it has to be
that way: fenders, rack, rack trunk, and so forth.  But I worked hard on
that climb.  Brown's Camp did not seem to ever arrive.

 

After a brief refueling stop at the top, we started the descent. I've never
ridden to Tillamook before, so this was my first up-close experience with
the Wilson River Highway.  Now I know why they call it that:  I didn't even
try to count the number of vistas of the Wilson River, starting with
spectacular cascades at the top turning into the wide placid river at the
bottom.

 

Our first headwinds of the day were down in the valley on the long
straightaway into the city proper.  However, this was where we started to
see blue peaking out from between the clouds, so it was hard to get annoyed.

 

In downtown Tillamook we joined a number of other cyclists at the local
Safeway.  Caught up with Andrew (who ran into a bicycle activist just
passing through to Netarts for a conference; sorry, she didn't ride a bike
out there) and Cecil, who pretty much paired up for the whole day.  Refilled
our water from the many spare water bottles other thoughtful Randonneurs
left, and then set out for the Three Capes.

 

There was a lot of tourist traffic on the Three Capes, including some
apostate doctors, lawyers, and CPA's all herding together on their
Har-Har-Harley's.  Between them and some very inconsiderate local drivers,
this was definitely the low point of the day with respect to traffic.  Do
you really think it's safest to pass a bicyclist so closely that he could
reach out and touch you?

 

Aside from that, the sights were spectacular.  The weather kept clearing up
until we had terrific views of the bay, and then-later-the ocean.  Much of
the headlands out here is still unspoiled, especially the area near Cape
Meares.  The climbs were a bit steeper than I recalled, but the view at
Anderson's Viewpoint was incomparable.  We saw a number of kite riders,
looking like that they were getting their nerve up to jump off a cliff.

 

As we pulled into the manned control at Netartes, the clouds started to
bunch up again.  Between that and standing there for a few minutes eating,
Lynne and I started to get cold, so we put a move on to get warm again.  As
we climbed the second cape, we reeled in Susan, whom we saw off and on again
for the rest of the day.  Dropping down to the stop sign at Sand Lake, I saw
Susan head straight, when it seemed to me that the sign pointed to the right
for Pacific City.  I waited for Lynne to show up, we debated maps, and then
headed right.  Ricky Smith driving support showed up briefly afterwards, and
we told him to go reel Susan back for us :-)  Susan found us as we were
having yet another one of our snack breaks at the Tierra del Mar beach
access.

 

In Pacific City, Lynne and I decided to make a light meal for our unmanned
control and shared a tasty omelet at the Grateful Bread.  Definitely a
will-return place for breakfast.  After much coffee and regaining feeling in
our toes, we proceeded to do an Unreach the Beach, which is a ride she and I
did last year, starting in Pacific City and ending up back out our
respective houses.

 

As we climbed the hills into the coast range, we got pretty much our only
shower (sprinkle, really) of the day.  We were working hard enough that it
actually felt pretty good.  Dropping down into Grande Rond, we paid close
attention to the cue sheet, because this segment was slightly different from
the RTB posted leg; instead of doing an out-and-back on Grande Rond Road, we
followed it all the way down to SR-18 and a very popular convenience store
(two water bottles, two sport drinks sitting out for others).  After making
a slightly edgy left onto the highway, we followed it for about a mile to
just past the casino and turned right onto Yamhill River Road.  It was at
this point that I noticed my front tire was flat, so I sat down and changed
it in the rapidly dwindling dusk, placing the two of us squarely at the end
of the pack.

 

BTW, I think Yamhill River Road and Grand Ronde Road is a heck of an
improvement over that nasty stretch of SR-18 that Reach the Beach puts us
on.  Sure, you miss some of the views climbing SR-22, but I consider it a
fair trade for avoiding Death Alley (the deadliest stretch of Oregon
highways, for many years running).

 

Willamina: we rigged for night running.  In Sheridan we saw a herd of
bicycles stopped for dinner at a local restaurant.  Hooray; we weren't last
any more!  Heading out of town, Lynne: "Don't pick up any hitchhikers!"
Nightfall as we're heading on Ballston Road; time to turn on lights for more
than just being seen.  Information control in Ballston was just a little
more challenging in full darkness.

 

Riding at night-full night, not city night-was a new experience for me.
Based on my experience that morning, I tried to ride abreast of Lynne as
much as I could; having a pair of lights gives drivers much better depth
perception than otherwise.  As drivers would overtake us, I would drop back,
thereby fully limning Lynne in my headlight, relying on my copious rear
lights to indicate my presence and making it unquestionable what they were
looking at.  Riding next to Lynne also really helped illuminate road
surface: a pair of lights is, well, twice as good as one. In spite of all
that lighting, there was one really dicey moment about 5 miles outside of
Amity.  A good ole' boy in an oncoming pickup truck opted to make a shallow
left across our path: no turn signal, no slowing.  Another four seconds and
it would have been A Really Bad Day.  You just have to wonder if he was
chemically altered.

 

In Lafayette we stopped to refuel, and when we came out we saw two bicycles
a few blocks in front of us.  Lynne put on a burst of energy, and we reeled
in Susan and Wayne(?).  Considering the flat out darkness of Yamhill county
at night, we banded together for the rest of the ride.

 

The other thing about riding is night is, well, you can't see anything
besides the road.  Not only is it less interesting (I guess I pay attention
to the scenery more than I ever thought), but it makes navigation much more
difficult.  Even the stretches of the ride I've done dozens of times during
the day (SR-240, Ribbon Ridge, Spring Hill, and the rest of it) were weirdly
unfamiliar at night.  Oh, and you can't help but ride slower, because your
view of the road surface is limited.  Did I mention dogs?  They can see you
just fine because of all the lights, but you see absolutely nothing:; you
just hear barking, jingling, and the pitty-pat of unknown carnivore feet.

 

As we turned onto Fern Hill Road, I started to get cold.  My hands started
to lose it, and my feet went from uncomfortable to numb.  We found out later
that it had already gotten to 35 degrees Fahrenheit.

 

Back at Grand Lodge, Lynne and I took long and hot showers, socialized with
Andrew, Cecil, and the others briefly, then went home to collapse.

 

Final stats:

187.7 miles

~8000 feet climbing? [rumored]

16:30:55 in-saddle

18:32:44 total elapsed

12455 calories burned

2 PBJ sandwiches, 2 bananas, countless fritos, 2 gallons of water, 6
Excedrin, and half an omelet

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