| The Terrible Two |
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Editors note: In the last issue we published Gilbert’s article on this ride. This is the other side of the story. The 2003 Terrible Two double century out of Santa Rosa was truly terrible this year. Ken Johnson and I arrived at the start line at 5:00am, bright and early, to discover I left my front wheel back at the hotel. Driving 95 mph in the dark back to the room, 9 miles away, enabled me to come screeching up to the start with just enough time to slam the wheel on and register before the pack was completely out of sight. From there it got worse. I stayed with my group of 7 mutants as planned through the Napa and Alexander Valleys, but fell off the back with a rear blowout climbing Geysers Peak.(mile 85). I was so far behind that the next two rest stops were out of Gatorade and the endurolite caps most of us take for dehydration. Fortunately I packed some dry Gatorade in my steaming camelback, which takes on a whole new aura when it’s hot as coffee. I made the lunch stop after a second flat and one missed turn with just 15 minutes to spare before they disqualify your sorry butt. (mile 109) However there were droves of cyclists still there panting and eating sandwiches and cold boiled potatoes, so I ventured out alone. It was brutally hot. My thermometer reached 108, and Chuck Bramwell’s reached 114. The climb up Skaggs’ summit melted my brain, spirit, and singed my nose hairs. Amazingly hot. No shade. No breeze. No cold water. Nothing to suggest there might be relief in sight. Chuck is the ”California Triple Crown Guy”, which is the ultra distance organization that awards those that complete three sanctioned doubles in one year; the “Triple Crown” distinction. Chuck and I rode together for several hours as he assured me we could still finish within the 16 _ hour time limit. This in spite of us walking our bikes up huge portions of the steaming hills when the grade exceeded 15%. We were pitiful. There were scores of diehards walking their bikes up the endless searing hills, knowing all we had to do was point our bikes downhill and we could coast the entire distance back down into the valley and get an air conditioned ride home. I saw one poor schmo sitting in the dirt sobbing uncontrollably, head
buried in his hands, as the SAG driver loaded his baking bike onto the
car. Still no breeze, no shade, no hope, and nothing cool to drink. As four of us walked our bikes ever upward, a SAG driver leaned out of his car, asked if we needed anything, and then yelled, “looking good guys”. WHAT ?!?! What did he say? “We’re WALKING OUR BIKES for heavens sakes!” I yelled.
Doesn’t get any worse than this folks. I told our small group that the infamous climb over Fort Ross grade was indeed steep, but not that long. I lied. It was about 4 miles, with some pitches over 20%. Got to the last rest stop, “Rio Nido” way after dark, with only 17 miles to go. But alas, it took almost two hours since we were all too stupid/optimistic to bring helmet lights to navigate with. We had to stop several times to read the map and to search for street signs with my little cateye mini halogen bulb on the handlebars. And pee. Wheelmen Ed Keller and Gilbert Martinez, whom I never did see during the ride, made their usual astounding effort and finished hours before the cutoff time. They are both remarkable riders. Finished at 10:29 to welcome applause, which is 85 minutes longer than last year. I think the 2003 TT might go down in history as one of the toughest ever. Ken and I both renewed last years promise to NEVER EVER do this ride again. This time I mean it. I’m writing it down so I don’t forget how hard this day is. Never again. » back to Sacramento
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