tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38321258063554741622023-11-16T09:04:21.886-08:00Small Engine, Big Tank"The only talent I possess is the ability to stay on my bike for a really long time.
That and four bucks will buy me a latte."Susan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.comBlogger50125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3832125806355474162.post-90255389672133709942015-02-27T09:44:00.002-08:002015-02-27T09:44:30.645-08:002/26/1993<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
On February 26, 1993 (22 years ago today), I was on the 79th floor of One World Trade Center when <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wi%E2%80%A6/1993_World_Trade_Center_bombing">terrorists detonated a truck bomb in the basement </a>with the intention of bringing down at least one of the towers. They failed that day, only to succeed 8 1/2 years later.</div>
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6 people died. Over 1000 people were injured, most of us with lungs damaged by smoke inhalation. The details of the 4.5 hours it took us to escape the building are seared in my brain, images standing out li<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">ke it happened yesterday instead of half my lifetime ago.</span></div>
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The memories of that day come back to me often, and have shaped me in unexpected ways. Not surprisingly those events played a big role in my decision to leave NY.</div>
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One might assume that having this experience would make me somewhat sympathetic to the irritations of modern life in America: the security lines at airports, the government's war on terror, etc. But you'd be wrong.</div>
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As I mourn the loss of the 6 people who died that day, I also mourn the loss of our civil liberties. The right to assembly, the right to free speech, the right to privacy, the protections against unreasonable search and seizure. All being attacked under the guise of the "war on terror". The steady degradation of these freedoms, accelerated after 9/11, troubles me greatly and I don't believe that the loss of these freedoms and the government's ever-deeper intrusions into our lives are making us "safer" or our citizens more secure.</div>
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I plan to honor the folks who died by taking some time today to<a href="https://www.aclu.org/donate/join-renew-give"> renew my membership to the ACLU.</a> What will *you* do today?</div>
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<i>Note: this article originally published on Facebook yesterday (2-26-15).</i></div>
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Susan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3832125806355474162.post-52429539246268084652014-11-20T20:18:00.000-08:002014-11-20T20:18:18.069-08:00Coffeeneuring 2014<b># 1: Pony Espresso at Beaverton Farmers Market, Beaverton OR, Saturday October 5th</b><br />
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Absolutely fabulous day for a bike ride. Warm and sunny! I rode my dutch bike with grocery panniers attached. Lots of fabulous fruits and veggies purchased at the market.<br />
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Bike: Gazelle Madalief<br />
Companion: Asta on rollerskates (Bonues: chance encounter with Super Coffeeneur Bill A.)<br />
Drink: Large Americano<br />
Bike facilities: The market is adjacent to the public Library. There is a large covered bike parking area with plenty of racks. <br />
Mileage: 13-14. My dutch bike doesn't have a computer on it. I rode all the way there from home, and multi-moded bicycling + the MAX train on the way home.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Farmers Market goodies</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt05OPt_jP4pNyobggYDqlP9qLTlbpKvHF0qkBzwTodv0XJoOwcAEJlWymFko9puBu6odoNb4SJqpOZbmBj8pNT3ZbGdxW9Kux-vtBt4xxoUtc1l-J8S6jZI98LmTuQ-8KDPGEA_SR4B8/s1600/1+with+Asta+-+Bill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt05OPt_jP4pNyobggYDqlP9qLTlbpKvHF0qkBzwTodv0XJoOwcAEJlWymFko9puBu6odoNb4SJqpOZbmBj8pNT3ZbGdxW9Kux-vtBt4xxoUtc1l-J8S6jZI98LmTuQ-8KDPGEA_SR4B8/s1600/1+with+Asta+-+Bill.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me & Asta. Photo by Bill A.</td></tr>
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<b>#2: Longbottom's Coffee and Tea, Hillsboro OR, Sunday October 6th</b><br />
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Another sunny day! Asta acquired a new bike, so we made a quick spin to Longbottom's for her first test ride.<br />
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Bike: Gazelle Madalief<br />
Companion: Asta on her new bike<br />
Drink: Black coffee<br />
Bike facilities: There a rack outside the front door, but we just lean our bikes wherever. Super safe location with no need for a lock<br />
Mileage: ~3.5. <br />
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<<Missing my photo! Yikes! Luckily, I did a bonus 8th coffee, just in case...>><br />
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<b>#3: Starbucks, Richland WA, Saturday October 18th</b><br />
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I drove to the Tri-Cities region to ride the Richland-Pendleton-Richland 205km permanent with Norm, Gary, Jason and Keith. The meetup was at a Starbucks which was 2.5 miles from the hotel where Jason, Keith & I were staying. This is what we call "Opportunistic Coffeeneuring." Sometimes ya just gotta fit them in where ya can!<br />
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Jason works for Starbucks corporate, so it was funny to coffeeneur there with him. Especially since the staff there was pretty clueless...<br />
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Bike: The Troublemaker (my carbon Sweetpea)<br />
Companions: Jason & Keith<br />
Drink: Pike's Place, black<br />
Bike facilities: None. This Starbucks is inside the Albertsons. We just lean our bikes up against the storefront.<br />
Mileage: 2.5 miles. We rode back to the hotel too, with just a wee little 205km ride in between. Does that make it 5 miles?? ;-)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jason</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxGcPJvIkQ27Y2sJDc1s5ZYEVf3Fz7B9ZoTG4MDtamgv5eDqlpftubZi8_5zrj9e5f6eaV90oKybFdYtAJ_GEVnQlgz9XobtRu15_kSi6PUqJjaCZ-Y2P4DlLCvLyqnUhp8JqR7HpzRLU/s1600/3+starbucks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxGcPJvIkQ27Y2sJDc1s5ZYEVf3Fz7B9ZoTG4MDtamgv5eDqlpftubZi8_5zrj9e5f6eaV90oKybFdYtAJ_GEVnQlgz9XobtRu15_kSi6PUqJjaCZ-Y2P4DlLCvLyqnUhp8JqR7HpzRLU/s1600/3+starbucks.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jason & me</td></tr>
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<b>#4: The Verboort Sausage Festival bingo tent, Verboort OR, Saturday November 1st</b><br />
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Another opportunistic coffeeneuring adventure. This day began with a 100K populaire with Oregon Randonneurs. This ride finishes at the annual sausage festival, where a local church makes and sells thousands of pounds of homemade sausages and kraut for it's annual fundraiser. After finishing the ride, we wandered off to the Bingo tent for sausages, coffee and "atmosphere". Bingo was in full swing and the polka music was blaring from the loudspeakers. After our meal and much socializing, we rode our bikes back to our vehicles, which were parked near the start of the populaire, which was a few miles away in Forest Grove.<br />
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Bike: The Troublemaker<br />
Companions: Paul, Keith, Graham, Michal, Gary<br />
Drink: black coffee out of the biggest urn I've ever seen<br />
Bike facilities: None. We leaned our bikes up against the chain link fence near the church.<br />
Mileage: 3 miles. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD-psUzLOMPf6nOvtinjnjHyJhnc1S_OGY2QeIKfRWH87jURrx7uRaDUyZQyaRUnOGYm3pyWvkrJZmrdfeLLXxvYqy483UrMvHtalaSdLxD3Quv6URuf44d5vNu0KYYk2aN6wMkiPxVAM/s1600/4+with+Paul+-+Keith.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD-psUzLOMPf6nOvtinjnjHyJhnc1S_OGY2QeIKfRWH87jURrx7uRaDUyZQyaRUnOGYm3pyWvkrJZmrdfeLLXxvYqy483UrMvHtalaSdLxD3Quv6URuf44d5vNu0KYYk2aN6wMkiPxVAM/s1600/4+with+Paul+-+Keith.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like ebony and ivory. Only different</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlcOHEBYujaMhhv1WlEadzbjzvNJc-20KmNK3frsGlwmWYo-FJiw5KesuUnLE8SplWtfD2v7-_5A3-oD3VWh5Sij5F98BwFDPT497XH0nVmb2VonTJrgjAri7Ob_RDYnweQyc9g4EDgTs/s1600/4+ride+Keith.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlcOHEBYujaMhhv1WlEadzbjzvNJc-20KmNK3frsGlwmWYo-FJiw5KesuUnLE8SplWtfD2v7-_5A3-oD3VWh5Sij5F98BwFDPT497XH0nVmb2VonTJrgjAri7Ob_RDYnweQyc9g4EDgTs/s1600/4+ride+Keith.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Banks Vernonia Trail</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV5E_8w9HYM6eFTR_zZiezbjD62C0C2exFnE8rSNJPLnjb5ah1zmfwJZOgmabWlhe0dhN1NZfg18Ln3UqnjTbn6O3rW3fI15VY4gYdvsdAVBWEy7bzubUM-PrR0daNO5NPB9C-T5zbgLg/s1600/4+group+Keith.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV5E_8w9HYM6eFTR_zZiezbjD62C0C2exFnE8rSNJPLnjb5ah1zmfwJZOgmabWlhe0dhN1NZfg18Ln3UqnjTbn6O3rW3fI15VY4gYdvsdAVBWEy7bzubUM-PrR0daNO5NPB9C-T5zbgLg/s1600/4+group+Keith.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Group, post-populaire</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">OK coffee, tasty sausage.</td></tr>
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<b>#5: Coava Coffee, Portland Oregon, Sunday November 2nd</b><br />
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After the populaire the day before, I had a big post-ride party at my house. A bunch of us decided to coffeeneur Sunday morning, and eventually settled on Coava, a place I've never been,<br />
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Gary crashed in my guestroom on Saturday night. We had "grand plans" to take the long way to the coffee shop, but Sunday dawned cold, foggy and chilly. Instead, we took the most direct route. Still a lovely ride to get there, involving a ride up and over the West Hills in the fog. Everything was drippy and eerie, and traffic was nearly non-existent.<br />
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Coava shares space with a wood-working showroom of some sort. Neat space, but not enough chairs. All the baristas were <a href="http://gearjunkie.com/the-rise-of-the-lumbersexual">prototypical lumbersexuals.</a> In addition to a tasty pourover, I purchased some coffee to go.<br />
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After coffee, most of us rode to brunch. And had more coffee. After which the group splintered a little more and Asta, Theo & I headed off towards the MAX. Somehow we managed to use up a goodly portion of the daylight by the time we got home.</div>
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Bike: the steel Sweetpea<br />
Companions: Keith, Jeff, Theo, Asta, Lynne, Gary<br />
Drink: Pourover, black.<br />
Bike facilities: Minimal. We locked our bikes up to a motley assortment of utility pipes and street signs.<br />
Mileage: 17 miles from my house to town. Plus additional unrecorded miles post-coffee to brunch and back home. Probably about 30 miles, all in.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ_fTehC1bmlVo-fnkTdFDcz2tKfvyU8si2RBVqf0KEaURfXzrIsa05SQC7Zf9Ka7taIYKEoZsLhyhCCdbJeJUuYqSeks3wm4ozSypxq8UfnQzC_reqLfFr8LW2dqGOK4qdwND00Pa7CQ/s1600/5+fog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ_fTehC1bmlVo-fnkTdFDcz2tKfvyU8si2RBVqf0KEaURfXzrIsa05SQC7Zf9Ka7taIYKEoZsLhyhCCdbJeJUuYqSeks3wm4ozSypxq8UfnQzC_reqLfFr8LW2dqGOK4qdwND00Pa7CQ/s1600/5+fog.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Foggy morning up on Skyline</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCEytrHeIrAS_PxonIm0gH8IGa4VyJcOFXCJMFgcNLuiyWEOn-cGLMEq-bwOiMvwKnehuRpyT3v4yGECYpKAVJKLAWQjlZGezSo6txU3MRJzMd010tGwvXSCq5ZTfAj9v-McTA8mCIs4Y/s1600/5+bike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCEytrHeIrAS_PxonIm0gH8IGa4VyJcOFXCJMFgcNLuiyWEOn-cGLMEq-bwOiMvwKnehuRpyT3v4yGECYpKAVJKLAWQjlZGezSo6txU3MRJzMd010tGwvXSCq5ZTfAj9v-McTA8mCIs4Y/s1600/5+bike.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweetpea</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVhaIrsUziszABsasm1UuC-NjS2U4Da8JL8_huYnF7Vem0qb7B4yW5EGLixdG1iWR263q8_hBB-lEXsSNYxEjW-v7KATTUSjwHa7mfOiFlyZCwnw98OnlHx1q_SzPDFmG7fkpEFySUC6s/s1600/5+coffee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVhaIrsUziszABsasm1UuC-NjS2U4Da8JL8_huYnF7Vem0qb7B4yW5EGLixdG1iWR263q8_hBB-lEXsSNYxEjW-v7KATTUSjwHa7mfOiFlyZCwnw98OnlHx1q_SzPDFmG7fkpEFySUC6s/s1600/5+coffee.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pourover</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSwwfbKruOtwORwspl4Hi_cKWidScbesj1R0KoDEkc7ce2L4ZkZycy58AwswM482tZ5wBLcFrboOBSQwjPX3hrEI6jHhlxe-p8fuT_JfqOgngFs7erGV8DwFKKsbCMF9RINLaBGK1SJ7U/s1600/5+group+-+jeff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSwwfbKruOtwORwspl4Hi_cKWidScbesj1R0KoDEkc7ce2L4ZkZycy58AwswM482tZ5wBLcFrboOBSQwjPX3hrEI6jHhlxe-p8fuT_JfqOgngFs7erGV8DwFKKsbCMF9RINLaBGK1SJ7U/s1600/5+group+-+jeff.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The group. Photo by Jeff A.</td></tr>
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<b>#6: Starbucks, Hillsboro OR , Saturday November 8th.</b><br />
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Every year, I bake a birthday cake for my friend Jill's son, Liam. I've been doing them since he was born. In the early years, I made the cakes based on whatever he showed an interest in, but now that he's older, I let him choose the theme. Then, I start googling around for ideas, and usually come up with something fun.<br />
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This year, he decided he wanted a cougar cake. Well, if you google "Cougar Cake", the results that you are presented with are decidedly NOT fit for a child's visual consumption. So, I spent quite a few weeks stressing over his cake would look like. Finally, on Friday night, I settled on a design.<br />
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On Friday night I began baking the layers. On Saturday morning, I started working at 8am, baking more layers. Then I began the layout and fondant work. Around 3:00pm I decided I needed more fondant, some foamcore to serve as the base, and an exacto knofe for easier and more precise fondant cutting. Plus I needed a break. So Asta & I headed out to Joann's for supplies, with a Starbucks's top along the way. I ordered a latte. It was terrible. Watery and tasteless. Should have stuck with black coffee, which is the only reliable thing at Starbucks these days.<br />
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After picking up supplies at Joann's we headed back to my house. Cake was finally finished at 12:30am. 16 hours start to finish, not including the layers baked the night before.<br />
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Bike: Gazelle Madelief dutch bike to carry supplies.<br />
Companions: Asta<br />
Drink: A very disappointing latte<br />
Bike facilities: None. We left our bikes outside while we purchased coffee, then sat with them while drinking our coffee. <br />
Mileage: 6 miles roundtrip including the stop-in at Joann's for supplies<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbgAXjTgf_Y1bwAxpX1EeSXzVktclBco07d0OVDrGNkEskl6d81QaZi3eccROQ4pU7DVsF7DO1nj4S2azN0BztVGFXxqKXQPc6DFMuxShbb1HEAgjbpVZSVolfgjliSKWitD4X-8ymRu4/s1600/6+bike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbgAXjTgf_Y1bwAxpX1EeSXzVktclBco07d0OVDrGNkEskl6d81QaZi3eccROQ4pU7DVsF7DO1nj4S2azN0BztVGFXxqKXQPc6DFMuxShbb1HEAgjbpVZSVolfgjliSKWitD4X-8ymRu4/s1600/6+bike.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">LOUSY latte</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibYsd03h1clpfw8NVjjiMTd5zhQgbLKADhG3MvmGZSl5jdSzc24G8egHfyqTcXh4eWbhdnHpaPBmGqfGK4A4EqrFeGQ4DSe67RJ7ZRBr4dY6PI53dTLii1mWcmWgOSCQQ26j6-GAJw7g4/s1600/6+cups.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibYsd03h1clpfw8NVjjiMTd5zhQgbLKADhG3MvmGZSl5jdSzc24G8egHfyqTcXh4eWbhdnHpaPBmGqfGK4A4EqrFeGQ4DSe67RJ7ZRBr4dY6PI53dTLii1mWcmWgOSCQQ26j6-GAJw7g4/s1600/6+cups.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">But fabulous helmets</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ3hWPmDhJafdlH-muvp0L5oZwbFWdXU4aNMTho8OmyLGIzOELymMuQE1SW8xFs59CwhrkT-nadNKXuAp2fCXA3QWdaY3jMUcRVnCOctbJCFwfdXNtMkrxbyjx0Na89S7CR38Klh9eats/s1600/6+cake+layout.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ3hWPmDhJafdlH-muvp0L5oZwbFWdXU4aNMTho8OmyLGIzOELymMuQE1SW8xFs59CwhrkT-nadNKXuAp2fCXA3QWdaY3jMUcRVnCOctbJCFwfdXNtMkrxbyjx0Na89S7CR38Klh9eats/s1600/6+cake+layout.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cake plan</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Xjs3QTPzX9YhHm1smjceEBfww-LdwGU3oMdZu0iMq0RkAFX43q0COtovovVAyzKyRRrXefwSoHSxm16N8ZT92nBKUvGcyRNf8uw5U1RQLxaInseWhA8eofZ1hWLUFnau2w0euWb80Og/s1600/6+cake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Xjs3QTPzX9YhHm1smjceEBfww-LdwGU3oMdZu0iMq0RkAFX43q0COtovovVAyzKyRRrXefwSoHSxm16N8ZT92nBKUvGcyRNf8uw5U1RQLxaInseWhA8eofZ1hWLUFnau2w0euWb80Og/s1600/6+cake.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finished cake!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b>#7: Poppa's Haven, Beaverton OR, Sunday November 9th</b><br />
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Liam's birthday party was scheduled for 1pm. After breakfast, Asta & I headed out to Poppa's Haven for coffee. This is one of my favorite places for coffee on the west side, but I rarely get over there. It was a chilly ride over, but dry. <br />
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Poppa's Haven must be doing well, because they've expanded their seating area into the next space. Much roomier now! Asta ordered a pumpkin latte, so I decided to try one too. Good choice. It was amazing. Best coffee of the entire coffeeneuring adventure, so ending on a high note was great!<br />
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After coffee we rode back to my house. Our weather luck ran out, and it drizzled the entire way. We were also running late, and by the time I got home, showered, and got to Liam's house, I was 15 minutes late and Liam was bouncing off the walls with excitement. He was thrilled with the cake, which made all the long hours spent working on it totally worth it. I love that kid. :-)<br />
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Bike: The Troublemaker<br />
Companions: Asta<br />
Drink: Pumpkin Latte<br />
Bike facilities: None. We leaned our bikes up against a table.<br />
Mileage: 12 miles round trip. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFDnnAWVAYD_eUgn12y4tPazZL0ObIgwcCE1evBW79DtFqUSHdCqG0wd4GRXsm4Cy1bnE9b3gkUn0BN1axerYgkESHq0ESn7QPqSTl5sCDpX05N2uUV-6ZfgeZBtnmeqe5HBOU4MM8TKw/s1600/7+poppa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFDnnAWVAYD_eUgn12y4tPazZL0ObIgwcCE1evBW79DtFqUSHdCqG0wd4GRXsm4Cy1bnE9b3gkUn0BN1axerYgkESHq0ESn7QPqSTl5sCDpX05N2uUV-6ZfgeZBtnmeqe5HBOU4MM8TKw/s1600/7+poppa.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poppa's Haven has expanded.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGckYJMk9ftmSlP-ulAzEWQYPuGoKKPjynNV6eRiSoqZQe5Oh0TIZrmlvmm1IVpn_QQQNMmqyibXQt4ZqDcpJjTqkcwWIllFE4DyZp_eRxL8B7WhKCfHE8_WIShJRXp_y-OJw8u7PL8Us/s1600/7+asta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGckYJMk9ftmSlP-ulAzEWQYPuGoKKPjynNV6eRiSoqZQe5Oh0TIZrmlvmm1IVpn_QQQNMmqyibXQt4ZqDcpJjTqkcwWIllFE4DyZp_eRxL8B7WhKCfHE8_WIShJRXp_y-OJw8u7PL8Us/s1600/7+asta.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Asta loves having her photo taken. Not.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirTfzmR8m5GyPRxLWFAWYtXbi0ToJaEu__FPrKFtKEJ-N0srOjwu_Vvku1cdrMNGxeLPuzymvCj3caHMVSn_S-OpQ-7lHw_Jo0PYDz_RIR4FDnidA3mtsvdD3k9ERdPbCul4ZAAZDakSk/s1600/7+street.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirTfzmR8m5GyPRxLWFAWYtXbi0ToJaEu__FPrKFtKEJ-N0srOjwu_Vvku1cdrMNGxeLPuzymvCj3caHMVSn_S-OpQ-7lHw_Jo0PYDz_RIR4FDnidA3mtsvdD3k9ERdPbCul4ZAAZDakSk/s1600/7+street.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Best pumpkin latte EVER.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFyobrW9aw-m0j5nl4F9fmE9JXOj5kdhOn2CQJFqI1fXxyjbpQ2ETq0PdfeT4MN_688shUP-Ql_tERmZlgfKWnk_Ts1nh60Mucvoo9wP1mgSXZmxC1WIxpaiGXfoGwXtwthGOdu2wL1-Q/s1600/7+empty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFyobrW9aw-m0j5nl4F9fmE9JXOj5kdhOn2CQJFqI1fXxyjbpQ2ETq0PdfeT4MN_688shUP-Ql_tERmZlgfKWnk_Ts1nh60Mucvoo9wP1mgSXZmxC1WIxpaiGXfoGwXtwthGOdu2wL1-Q/s1600/7+empty.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In my belly.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKinI-j5Z9JZ8l-63J0MlMAOpbzmMOOaNOgdwDdDLubNyDwrOUZUCPBoHcOSE4Aa1FBYfi4O1YSgUXE3bc1zW3tugj4z9XUvRXx-3LObZUF1W-mJ2UQsamyZ1aCp5F84BOIaOea8ELSlQ/s1600/7+with+Liam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKinI-j5Z9JZ8l-63J0MlMAOpbzmMOOaNOgdwDdDLubNyDwrOUZUCPBoHcOSE4Aa1FBYfi4O1YSgUXE3bc1zW3tugj4z9XUvRXx-3LObZUF1W-mJ2UQsamyZ1aCp5F84BOIaOea8ELSlQ/s1600/7+with+Liam.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and the birthday boy</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b>Bonus#8: South Store Cafe, Scholls OR, Saturday November 16th</b><br />
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I was *supposed* to be riding a 300K with Keith and friends in Seattle. But I've been battling a chest cold and despite being a little stir crazy I resisted the urge to ride an inappropriate distance, especially give our extremely cold weather this week. <br />
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I have another new bike (new to me, anyway) and decided to take it on it's maiden journey. As always, my faithful coffee companion Asta came along for the ride as well. She has a new bike as well, and other than a brief coffee ride, it too would be getting it's first real road adventure.<br />
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We headed out into the very crisp day to South Store. They make really excellent home made backed goods as well as excellent coffee. We both had pumpkin spice lattes and shared an incredibly flaky apple turnover.<br />
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After leaving South Store we headed back towards my place, but decided to head to a local brewpub near my house for beer and happy hour food. Good choice. We managed to snag a table in the bar before it got totally crazy in there!<br />
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We heard from the guys later that we'd made the right choice. They were popsicles on the ride, and not everyone finished. We still missed them, though.<br />
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Bike: Specialized Tr-Cross<br />
Companion: Asta<br />
Drink: Pumpkin Spice Latte<br />
Bike facilities: None. We leaned our bikes up against the outside of the cafe.<br />
Mileage: 3 miles round trip, including the short side excursion for beer-neuring</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuVTjn-p128CXwGYjup9ktoplYw1JQyx-L5NJ1mLQaFyDOmCjrP2ZW_qzT9FV6ZCJGuGsXLSDRNKPGFhLmstzMR757KYy48n1zyaIUdcGbAr9UlxmA16YeQ75FGwiivyopjpjSJcUCwPc/s1600/8+asta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuVTjn-p128CXwGYjup9ktoplYw1JQyx-L5NJ1mLQaFyDOmCjrP2ZW_qzT9FV6ZCJGuGsXLSDRNKPGFhLmstzMR757KYy48n1zyaIUdcGbAr9UlxmA16YeQ75FGwiivyopjpjSJcUCwPc/s1600/8+asta.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Asta</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1VGVyQxVbgx2-prhhMlZhyphenhyphenpAbZrK7QUyYCSjl7xIY9R2mQTTB9JEh_XFLncaz7mzpb7JgGIcrAhx_XrNiKApG-Ad45OFZszBV9vPGldVKIU0SxgjprIpF0-ZcHtFrcBc91ATrbLu15Aw/s1600/8+bikes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1VGVyQxVbgx2-prhhMlZhyphenhyphenpAbZrK7QUyYCSjl7xIY9R2mQTTB9JEh_XFLncaz7mzpb7JgGIcrAhx_XrNiKApG-Ad45OFZszBV9vPGldVKIU0SxgjprIpF0-ZcHtFrcBc91ATrbLu15Aw/s1600/8+bikes.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maiden voyage for these babies!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvD1DutI-rIGqQXP-wO85632pq83pb5G9qzZXRwzOgXd9vOuB8J-gDn1BPvsZsSMBItkzMyg09PkTH0_7QZm85bzTp2KU4W6aZePk8iai_RsKe-UPKF504mehTVWFgUT4_XbOmzySx3Kc/s1600/8+food.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvD1DutI-rIGqQXP-wO85632pq83pb5G9qzZXRwzOgXd9vOuB8J-gDn1BPvsZsSMBItkzMyg09PkTH0_7QZm85bzTp2KU4W6aZePk8iai_RsKe-UPKF504mehTVWFgUT4_XbOmzySx3Kc/s1600/8+food.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">DeLISH!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijrG83VeVqFLlZLp4_IjdaDVfRXH_Iedfgp_g2EXvzjGZZyeCe9tdaAdT0WY22TlQznjvUIoSlGBbQE9njr7U6YafXM8C1rXdVUGhD0lm-asD7MaI87vx56FAr80UQ8uzbSgBk-yRk4Hc/s1600/8+ride.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijrG83VeVqFLlZLp4_IjdaDVfRXH_Iedfgp_g2EXvzjGZZyeCe9tdaAdT0WY22TlQznjvUIoSlGBbQE9njr7U6YafXM8C1rXdVUGhD0lm-asD7MaI87vx56FAr80UQ8uzbSgBk-yRk4Hc/s1600/8+ride.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me. Photo by Asta.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHr8PR9rUqTMWnrWne72I5rXZ3GnJ6-OHo1XoO2wI3_PqBn4QV_03wsChfQ1RYkzXZFp-Yw66S5hoWsSZEkklkdMKWk05xQ4pYcz4jS97SxSdWWCg1SSKz8i2-8WuBj2LF-kJmMNAY91g/s1600/8+beer+camp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHr8PR9rUqTMWnrWne72I5rXZ3GnJ6-OHo1XoO2wI3_PqBn4QV_03wsChfQ1RYkzXZFp-Yw66S5hoWsSZEkklkdMKWk05xQ4pYcz4jS97SxSdWWCg1SSKz8i2-8WuBj2LF-kJmMNAY91g/s1600/8+beer+camp.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After coffee comes beer</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9IbvGxyD5SiEYhHWh_rGsnu6jPX8uatmGSABfnAQ2l7QlQdkrZayeryD_ywbdUX1JGVKJNTL_SXbuEhnOuM8fTqSpewitIoaBpAzBmhf5qEIqAgig4DLdJ7dCtUh_I1SMovPpuQBC-oM/s1600/8+beer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9IbvGxyD5SiEYhHWh_rGsnu6jPX8uatmGSABfnAQ2l7QlQdkrZayeryD_ywbdUX1JGVKJNTL_SXbuEhnOuM8fTqSpewitIoaBpAzBmhf5qEIqAgig4DLdJ7dCtUh_I1SMovPpuQBC-oM/s1600/8+beer.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me. Photo by Asta.</td></tr>
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Many many thanks to<a href="http://chasingmailboxes.com/2014/09/17/fourth-annual-chasing-mailboxes-coffeeneuring-challenge/"> Mary for organizing another wonderful year of coffeeneuring.</a> After a long rando season, it's a wonderful thing to ride off the clock at a casual pace, with such wonderful friends.</div>
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Susan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3832125806355474162.post-34046493604743069722014-11-18T13:57:00.002-08:002014-11-18T13:57:51.105-08:00PBP Tips for the First-Timer<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
This post originated as an answer to a question posted on Randon, a national randonneuring-focused e-list.</div>
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<i><span style="color: blue;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="color: blue;">"I would like to hear about stuff that only comes from experience. Stuff that you only learn by either riding a Grand Randonee, or riding with Anciens who feel talkative."</span></span></i></div>
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I'm your run-of-the-mill 80-90th percentile rider. While I sometimes have time goals, they are more along the lines of "shoot me if I'm out there longer than x-hours" as opposed to "I'd like to finish faster than y-hours". </div>
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I don't have tons of experience at brevets longer than 600K. I've done three 1000s (finishing two in time and one hors delai), PBP 11 and London-Edinburgh-London in 2013. That's it. So, ignore me if you are fast or experienced, because my PBP advice is mostly for the inexperienced back of the packers. ie. those folks starting in the 90 hour group and taking 86-90 hours to finish.</div>
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1) Resign yourself to the unavoidable fact that you are going to be part of the great bulge. At every control you hit, you will be there during it's busiest couple of hours, when the control/food/bathrooms lines are longest, the staff/volunteers are the most overwhelmed, the food choices get slimmest (especially if you are in a late start group and go the full 90), and the beds/dorms are fullest. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the bridge at Brest, with the same 3 guys I'd started with in Paris!</td></tr>
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2) Thanks to #1, EVERYTHING at controls will take longer than you think it should. Do not expect to control in 10 minutes like you do at your local Chevron. Not only will you wait in lines for everything, but everything is VERY spread out at the controls. You may walk several minutes between the bike parking/ bathrooms/portopotties, the cafe, the dorms, etc. Signage is sometimes great, sometimes crummy, and you may not find someone who can answer your question or understand what you need (not everyone speaks english, and no matter how much you pledge to study french between now and then, after 900km your English will probably be failing you, so forget about French 101.). </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Signage. Confused?</td></tr>
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3) If you plan to eat at a control, simply do not expect to get out of there faster than 30 minutes. Or 45. Or an hour if you aren't paying attention to the clock, especially by the 3rd & 4th day. All that waiting on lines, finding a place to sit, finding a place to fill your bottle, finding the portopotties, finding your bike again.... budget that time into your time estimates.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Labyrinth bike parking at Loudeac.</td></tr>
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4) Budget your time. Like, in writing, on paper, and have a solid plan that you stick to. I build ride plans for all my long bike events, based on average speed estimates, climbing on each leg, distance between controls, where I plan to sleep, etc. I also have hard and fast "depart by" times in my plan, regardless of what time I arrive. My goal in making my plan is to build my time bank throughout the day to enable me to get some rest at night, and still leave the overnight controls with a safety buffer in hand (which for me is 2 hours). Late in a randonnee, when you are exhausted, it is easy to lose track of time and think you have more (or less) that what you really do. Having a written plan that you can refer back to will help you stay focused and calm. I can elaborate more on my methods if anyone is interested. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leaving Loudeac for the 2nd time, right on schedule. Hotel garage parking.</td></tr>
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5) As others have mentioned, try to use services OUTside of controls as often as possible. As a slower rider, you should always be doing one of the following things: riding, eating, sleeping or urinating. If you are doing anything else (like standing in a long line at a control) you are wasting time you simply do not have. On PBP in 2011, I ate at a couple of street-side places (sausages, frites, etc.), a few bakeries, bought fruits and snacks in a few small shops, ate at some controls, ate on my bike a LOT (both stuff I bought, and energy bars, etc that were in my handlebar bag), accepted food from spectators, etc. I also used bathrooms at places I purchased foods, in some town centers where there were public restrooms and peed in the dark on the side of the road more time than I can remember. (more on that later...) Basically, if you have an opportunity to use services outside of the controls, do it. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roadside crepe stop</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jeff Tilden eating on the bike. "Want some??"</td></tr>
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6) Sleep. Sweet sweet precious sleep. I need it. And never get enough on these things. (I got 10.5 hours on PBP '11 over 3 nights and only 8 hours total on LEL over 4 nights. ) On PBP, one of the very best things I did was pre-arrange for a hotel room at Loudeac the first two nights, and at Mortagne-au-Perche the 3rd night. Here's the thing. As a slower rider, that sleep time is absolute gold. GOLD. So I want it to be the very very best it can possibly be. Having a REAL bed and a REAL shower all to myself was crazy important and very beneficial to me. Plus, the hotel had "breakfast" going for the riders pretty much 24-7. So, I was able to go straight from the control to the hotel, have a shower, sleep 4.5 hours both nights in Loudeac, go straight to breakfast where there was no line, no paying for anything, eat, get my bike out of the hotel's secure garage, then get out of Dodge. I could also leave all sorts of stuff I didn't need at the hotel while I did the ride from Loudeac to Breast and back. I also had my own place to plug in my chargers to top up my electronics, etc., without having to fight for/find an outlet. The bed was comfortable, the hotel was quiet, the food was great, and I would absolutely do it all over again.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Private hotel room in Loudeac</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breakfast at the hotel in Loudeac. No waiting.</td></tr>
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Conversely, one of the biggest mistakes I made on LEL was NOT arranging for hotel rooms, especially the first night. Again, we were in the bulge group, and when we got to the control where we wanted to sleep, there were no "beds" available. We wasted tons of time sitting around waiting for something to become available. Eventually they opened up another room, tossed some blankets on a hard wood floor and that was what we got. After riding alllllll day and half the night, shivering for two hours on a hard wood floor in a room full of snoring, farting men with people constantly going in and out, talking, and phone alarms going off, was not very conducive to getting any rest. It was a nightmare. And it did not set me up well for the rest of the ride. </div>
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So, if you can afford the luxury, I highly recommend a hotel room in Loudeac. The quality of sleep you get is worth the extra expense and the few extra minutes you will expend finding it the first night.</div>
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7) Bathrooms - the bathrooms at the controls on PBP are downright disgusting. Remember we are bulge riders and the controls are in schools, etc, where the facilities are not designed to handle the volume of people using them. ANd they are manned/cleaned by volunteers who have other things to do as well. Carry toilet paper, as the bathrooms often will not have any. Do not expect soap or paper towels. Expect the floors to be muddy or wet or worse. If you drop something on them, you will probably not want to pick it back up. (Really.) Expect the women's rooms to be completely taken over by the men. Expect to see men with their shorts around their knees applying butt lube. The first organized food stop (not a control) is at Mortagne on the way out at 140km. It's the middle of the night and nothing will be open during that first 140 km except a rare business or two that sees an opportunity and will hence be completely overrun. So fully expect to do your "business" outside that first night in particular. Ladies, there will be people everywhere, so expect to have to make your way down some dark driveway in the countryside if you want any privacy at all.</div>
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8) Can you sleep on the side of the road? Yes. Should you? NO. Why? See #7 above. Every time I saw someone sleeping just off the road, I wondered how many others had peed in that spot before them. While the ladies might pee down a driveway somewhere, the men rarely strayed far from the pavement....</div>
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9) Remember that plan I mention in #4, and that 2 hour time buffer? Plan to maybe have to use some of it up unexpectedly on day 3 or 4. Like maybe you slow down more than expected. (check!) Like maybe you are falling asleep and need an unplanned 20 minute nap in Tintineac. (check!) Like maybe you puke your brains out and need some extra recovery time. ( check! You know what they say: you aren't a real randonneur until you've puked in a french ditch. Except in my case, it was in a lovely hotel in Mortagne on the final night). Whatever you do, stick to that plan and keep that buffer those first couple days, because when you really need it in that final 200K or so, it's there for you to use up.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bathroom of explosive vomitude.</td></tr>
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When I left Mortagne before dawn on the final day, I was right at the closing time, having used up all my buffer by being slower than expected getting to Mortagne and by puking all over that lovely hotel bathroom. I was a wreck, afraid that maybe I had come so far for nothing. If I'd not left that buffer on the preceding days, I might have found myself in even worse shape for time. Instead, I made it to Dreux, the next control, in time. I cried tears of joy when the sun finally came up. And I managed to finish with 1:15 in the bank, instead of 0:45 hors delai.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leaving Mortagne, up against the control closing time.</td></tr>
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10) Remember that on PBP you are never really alone. There are always riders on the road nearby. If you need some company and find yourself alone, even a moment's pause will find someone catching up to you (remember that when you try to just "stop and squat" roadside. ;-) ) When I found myself alone and despairing on the side of the road in the middle of the final night, I no sooner stopped to have a personal pity party when several riders I know came along and saved me from myself. Even if YOU don't need that help, maybe you can be that friend who stops and checks in on someone else in need. It can mean the difference between finishing and not. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7TDGZpqrFzDVE_oclW1rrLCu-KWn5UsxDZ9qpmqKsfgkcx_HCHD9d6zbHx9htqH-Ug5fYQxior0L0ROFxJCVOqZcURWY-j9fDajRW05-B7oNimV3qqE9ZEsvq1zSlUJc-Q9vKSfUeqaE/s1600/lots+of+riders.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7TDGZpqrFzDVE_oclW1rrLCu-KWn5UsxDZ9qpmqKsfgkcx_HCHD9d6zbHx9htqH-Ug5fYQxior0L0ROFxJCVOqZcURWY-j9fDajRW05-B7oNimV3qqE9ZEsvq1zSlUJc-Q9vKSfUeqaE/s1600/lots+of+riders.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You'll nearly always be in sight of many riders on PBP.</td></tr>
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11) As long as you can safely ride, do not quit. On the final day of LEL, I was soooooooo exhausted. And so very slow. I wanted to quit so many times that day. Ultimately, though, my pride won out. I eventually decided that I would just keep pedalling until I physically could not turn the pedals any longer, or until I ran out of time. A wise rando planted the phrase "relentless forward motion" into my head very early in my rando career and it has stuck with me ever since. Find a positive mantra that works for you (write in on your arm, or tuck it into your cuesheet holder, or wherever, and refer to it when you need it.) As long as you are moving, you are making progress towards the goal. And maybe - probably - you will feel better eventually. Get a second, or third (or 20th) wind. Lucky for me, I ran out of course before I ran out of time, and finished LEL and PBP. Neither with very much time in the bank, but this sport is pass/fail. I passed. You can too if you just keep moving. Don't make any rash decisions when tired or hungry. Nap or eat, then move along again.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXF3WT9G5b-CFtfos3nBuko9U9b0DFaBEg5JuFMWf8tpeXJdeONYJyllKE5OFNx7EhN6cHXif3EABMjEYi3eea1rliDa4xGZdHV-1qRcXXhDw8c0z2VMaryTgShULxXupot3WSrNHHAY4/s1600/finished.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXF3WT9G5b-CFtfos3nBuko9U9b0DFaBEg5JuFMWf8tpeXJdeONYJyllKE5OFNx7EhN6cHXif3EABMjEYi3eea1rliDa4xGZdHV-1qRcXXhDw8c0z2VMaryTgShULxXupot3WSrNHHAY4/s1600/finished.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finished!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaOyXPtbZjT9erC25j6mWJv9ccfsQJ0cAxJacgzmmy-p0iO6KXeoZlPhgLhnl0NVVzGyZn_x7UjxxWlbzzCcakaozfkofXc-DpunG6XNTkb6J-hBEv860St8iTDPhGjN_k8JmAITODzdM/s1600/766.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaOyXPtbZjT9erC25j6mWJv9ccfsQJ0cAxJacgzmmy-p0iO6KXeoZlPhgLhnl0NVVzGyZn_x7UjxxWlbzzCcakaozfkofXc-DpunG6XNTkb6J-hBEv860St8iTDPhGjN_k8JmAITODzdM/s1600/766.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ran out of road before I ran out of time.</td></tr>
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12) Do PBP specific training, if you can. We did a night-start 200K on a Friday night after work a month or so before PBP. It's a good simulation for how tired you will be starting at night after being amped up and anxious all day waiting for the damn thing to start. Turns out I love night starts. Who knew? --- Find some courses that have similar elevation profiles to PBP. There's a lot of climbing on PBP, but none of them are long. More like relentless rollers. Learn to love them. --- If you've never done a 1000K, consider doing one 8-10 weeks before PBP. DO you need to ? No. I did my first one 8 weeks before PBP and for me it was a huge confidence booster. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All new territory beyond 1000K for me.</td></tr>
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I learned what I would feel like on the third morning. I also learned how hard it was to "ride through" the last night on that 1000K, spending almost 24 hours on the bike to get to the finish line. Use those training rides to learn more about how you will fare on PBP and what you need to change. I learned that my speed was going to drop significantly that last day, so I needed to plan for that. I *also* learned that I could come back from a really sour stomach and significant nausea to ultimately finish. It was a good lesson. When I got sick on PBP, I had that experience to draw on.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPxQtegI8w4hVlPBDgHrRhXRYxhWbXzszFb8jLnOMw3zIECxsnuPTy2woE9lvcX2EQvBp0g17ecK7xbVp_jPsjzNjrjskwxIgKnJJAFIggBakELHcDB1wjyGOifLWq1I6Xq-sGuvw3XEE/s1600/jersey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPxQtegI8w4hVlPBDgHrRhXRYxhWbXzszFb8jLnOMw3zIECxsnuPTy2woE9lvcX2EQvBp0g17ecK7xbVp_jPsjzNjrjskwxIgKnJJAFIggBakELHcDB1wjyGOifLWq1I6Xq-sGuvw3XEE/s1600/jersey.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Earned it!</td></tr>
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Um, well, this was much longer than I expected it to be. If you made it this far, you ought to do just fine persevering on PBP... ;-)</div>
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Susan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3832125806355474162.post-23725354913132204202014-11-13T09:45:00.000-08:002014-11-13T09:45:02.891-08:00Rest in Peace, John<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image via Twitter feed of Martyn Bolt https://twitter.com/martynbolt/status/532873182366400512</td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">The rider who was struck on LEL in 2013 died from his injuries this month. I've thought of him often since last year; about the risks we take during long randonneuring events and how much our fates are determined less by our own actions and so very much more by the faith we place in motorists to have our interests in mind when they pass, hopefully with care and not with malice, disdain or indifference.</span></div>
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I accept those risks. I do everything I can to mitigate them (lights, reflective, mirror, route choice, etc.) but I know that in the end, none of those things will make a damn bit of difference if its my turn to get creamed by a careless, drunk or malicious motorist.</div>
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I know some people who have chosen not to ride anymore, or who've switched away from road riding because of these risks. And I can respect that choice absolutely. But for *me*, the very best way I can honor the lives and memories of those who have been lost is to keep riding. To not let the fear win out over the joy.</div>
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Rest in peace, John. </div>
Susan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3832125806355474162.post-82486046745158134862014-09-18T16:17:00.001-07:002014-09-18T16:37:10.363-07:00Konsidering K-Hound<i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">"Every 200K should feature a swim in the river."</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">As we splashed around in the Willamette River at mile 110, Asta & I delighted in the warm sunny July weather here in Oregon that allowed us this luxury. The boys looked on with somewhat bemused expressions from the shore, none daring to go in beyond the knee.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mid-ride swim!</td></tr>
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Two weeks later on yet another 200K, I found myself neck high in the Deschutes River, cooling down after 80 miles of hot, mostly treeless miles. A girl could get used to this....</div>
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Asta & I have ridden a LOT of miles together this year. Looking back on our quest for our first K-hounds, I've come to realize that water has been a recurring theme in so many of our rides, though not always in the most benevolent of manners. </div>
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Here in the Pacific NorthWET, water is most often something that falls from the sky, requiring the use of fenders, the strategic deployment of wool, and the careful application of GoreTex, eVent and Windstopper. We ride from espresso stand to hot cocoa machine to soup pot, as rain water soaks into our shoes and runs into our eyes. Starbucks is our friend and Safeway is rando nirvana.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihEGc-QiaNSDZGoSxmxoz85O47FRIBJOdMak2d1iK18FLEZa3WUaQKKgNuCu9GTV69mX8sQilR0BJB9nEkT2s0xntOGLGstCXTJCxTq1X2x58uzuwUclfk2VxAAoBEZUQ4-4vJiQHT1i0/s1600/K-hound+rainy+300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihEGc-QiaNSDZGoSxmxoz85O47FRIBJOdMak2d1iK18FLEZa3WUaQKKgNuCu9GTV69mX8sQilR0BJB9nEkT2s0xntOGLGstCXTJCxTq1X2x58uzuwUclfk2VxAAoBEZUQ4-4vJiQHT1i0/s1600/K-hound+rainy+300.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pacific NorthWET.</td></tr>
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In February, early in our K-hound quest, Asta & I joined Theo on a 200K from Portland OR to Olympia WA. We followed the Columbia River north, and the rainstorm followed us. By late-afternoon, we took refuge in Safeway, spreading our wet gear in piles around the table, the puddles beneath our feet widening with every minute. We were soaked through to the bone, chilled to the core, and huddled around steaming bowls of tomato-basil soup. Yet we were grinning from ear to ear, giddily reveling in our drowned rat status. Pushing the time limits, we headed out into the early winter night, the wind whipping at the trees, while steering our bikes around downed branches and bottomless rain puddles. Ahead, a vehicle activated it's flashers and pulled over. What's this?? A secret control! On a permanent! The controller offered up dry gloves and warm hats. How awesome is that?</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7PqPGveV2JhgPLReLgOm4h1pY_vB7pr6lKnHB0Nyqdss3Nrw1q4lErMi8SdFBP8bgwyZgiLFwZHqPofJ6AigMzJ5uO851wQKuysF_5YYRFYyKlSxX3bme64AeVE3R8Gpni-mznfR2CbM/s1600/k-hound++february+in+Safeway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7PqPGveV2JhgPLReLgOm4h1pY_vB7pr6lKnHB0Nyqdss3Nrw1q4lErMi8SdFBP8bgwyZgiLFwZHqPofJ6AigMzJ5uO851wQKuysF_5YYRFYyKlSxX3bme64AeVE3R8Gpni-mznfR2CbM/s1600/k-hound++february+in+Safeway.jpg" height="228" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drowned rats in Safeway. (Hi Theo!)</td></tr>
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In March, when old man winter still had his grip on the Northwest, we headed to Seattle for the "Spring" 300. Asta engaged her superstar warp engines and rode with the fast boys all day. But the old man had other plans for me. It rained hard, and I was underdressed. I got too cold and too wet. I flatted and changed the tire in the wind. Focused on the effort to make up time, to keep moving and stay warm, I failed to fuel properly. By nightfall I was exhausted, with low blood sugar and double vision. My first DNF. I was crushed. Was my pursuit of a K-hound merely a pipe dream??<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUbub9Y6TRDJWu64zewZLnT1PAFmSAy_7xUtlHl2QhhT3NENXe7JdfgkY2Vu8pvcAh7Lobq8ZLENL1z5wzEE1Rfq587f3GB6jZbbwe2ujl_ndg2u95ryErtfrvZ1MmyxdsoTqUFxg06Dw/s1600/k-hound++looking+a+little+wrecked+after+a+very+long+400k.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUbub9Y6TRDJWu64zewZLnT1PAFmSAy_7xUtlHl2QhhT3NENXe7JdfgkY2Vu8pvcAh7Lobq8ZLENL1z5wzEE1Rfq587f3GB6jZbbwe2ujl_ndg2u95ryErtfrvZ1MmyxdsoTqUFxg06Dw/s1600/k-hound++looking+a+little+wrecked+after+a+very+long+400k.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Asta & I appearing a bit wrecked after a very long 400K...</td></tr>
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In May, after endless months of rain, when drivetrains were grit-worn and moss was growing between our toes, Asta & I escaped to the deserts of eastern Washington to ride the Fleche. We followed a route carved over the millenia by water, along the banks of the Yakima, Naches and Tieton rivers, as we headed west towards Olympia. We climbed ever higher past Rimrock Lake and finally over White Pass, where the water greeted us silently in the form of snowpack along the roadside, and ice glittered on the summit lake, reflecting the midnight beams of our headlights. Ten teams finished the Fleche, and we were the only one to escape the rain. Ha HA!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5v1sfxTKq_y-FrAqhyphenhyphensEztS0_lIaLIdMDkLl8fzW0kXAnCNW0S0ihfRLAU-RNHweMSmHBY-orcvSDKAHSAmuF1sb80cZ5PUaYTrpZxQG0ORQBoPXw5sgQcx0kYXy-9Od1xSnJf04KBSw/s1600/k-hound+Norm+and+the+flechetones.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5v1sfxTKq_y-FrAqhyphenhyphensEztS0_lIaLIdMDkLl8fzW0kXAnCNW0S0ihfRLAU-RNHweMSmHBY-orcvSDKAHSAmuF1sb80cZ5PUaYTrpZxQG0ORQBoPXw5sgQcx0kYXy-9Od1xSnJf04KBSw/s1600/k-hound+Norm+and+the+flechetones.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Norm and The FlecheTones</td></tr>
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Any body of water that can be seen from Outer Space is worthy of circumnavigation. Seeking to whip out a big chunk of K towards the K-hound goal, I headed to my home state of NY to ride The Lap Of The Lake 1000K around Lake Ontario in July. The crossings into Canada on the Thousand Islands Bridge over the St. Lawrence River, and back into the US again via Niagara Falls were highlights of the trip. Standing besides the Falls at 4:30am, just before sunrise, the normally packed viewing platforms completely devoid of tourists, the thunderous and immutable power of one of the world's biggest waterfalls was awe-inspiring.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggpcpwJZlwmjwc5W2D0E9lXQXE3uVmcNKfNqgp3jufmxSBgI5B43AjG7cckvj4TCYt-O1ai5vQbxj70QiewvkW8E17rs9_o4fbJ_Bti4Z1IdlZ374fXEVURKo5kWCCGLBhwaxz-fYrjIA/s1600/K-hound+a+really+big+lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggpcpwJZlwmjwc5W2D0E9lXQXE3uVmcNKfNqgp3jufmxSBgI5B43AjG7cckvj4TCYt-O1ai5vQbxj70QiewvkW8E17rs9_o4fbJ_Bti4Z1IdlZ374fXEVURKo5kWCCGLBhwaxz-fYrjIA/s1600/K-hound+a+really+big+lake.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Really Big Lake</td></tr>
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As I write this tale, Asta & I are still in pursuit of the remaining kilometers needed to achieve our first K-hound awards. We will try to knock out as many kilometers as we can while "water" still means warm swims in the river instead of rivulets of rain running down the backs of our necks. While I can't know for certain that we will achieve our K-hound goal, I *do* know that I'm so very lucky to have Asta as a partner in rando-crime. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3ezOptQlyaBX9SU5Ky7KKhecAadbXJmuAluy_tFGUNjHKwd4x2N5h8Sw8GGAebJAYQkMbCdVcBGRwZL50ihXTfLtdkSmVxtG_2IhVcI7N9KpPKtwMwL1EokNQKuU2HLvM7M6gS_tCkaM/s1600/k-hound+asta+and+beer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3ezOptQlyaBX9SU5Ky7KKhecAadbXJmuAluy_tFGUNjHKwd4x2N5h8Sw8GGAebJAYQkMbCdVcBGRwZL50ihXTfLtdkSmVxtG_2IhVcI7N9KpPKtwMwL1EokNQKuU2HLvM7M6gS_tCkaM/s1600/k-hound+asta+and+beer.jpg" height="179" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cheers!</td></tr>
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Susan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3832125806355474162.post-69296036996682735132014-08-17T16:00:00.000-07:002014-08-17T16:07:05.564-07:00Perm # 2208 - A River Runs Through It 202K<i>Due to the likelihood of high heat, the distance between controls, and the exposure to sun (ie. lack of shade) on many of the roads you will be traversing, all riders are strongly encouraged to carry three water bottles. </i><br />
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This route features roads that are not often explored on brevets. <br />
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It first heads north over the Columbia River and visits the Maryhill Stonehenge Memorial for an information control. Look to the southwest for great views of Mt. Hood!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqiITM0A8Ut-o238D9pQ0Qav52HHHDRZEq_9nczkAt8-6HVO5E6K3YfWH353kX0maAr3BuGRacI_0cSTcx5RBtf6LgFTmQbVKoDYLotVc3TUMPBwmJ__QtKvLDHsG0S8SjmzZHUdMLq0Dg/s1600/maryhill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqiITM0A8Ut-o238D9pQ0Qav52HHHDRZEq_9nczkAt8-6HVO5E6K3YfWH353kX0maAr3BuGRacI_0cSTcx5RBtf6LgFTmQbVKoDYLotVc3TUMPBwmJ__QtKvLDHsG0S8SjmzZHUdMLq0Dg/s1600/maryhill.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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Back over the bridge at Biggs Junction at mile 25 you will find your LAST opportunity for water until Mile 46. <b> Riders are STRONGLY encouraged to fill all three water bottles at this location, as there is a lot of climbing in those intervening 21 miles.</b> On a hot day, you will go through that water quickly.<br />
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The climb up Fulton Canyon Road is long, but well graded. And nearly devoid of cars! Along the way you'll be treated to fantastic scenery.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVbSxlI6nzR18VKGHNcDr1v9_-aF31d7swnbs33xussVauBX1MaHd3yytB7E6RSIppBs8SVU-O2ht5_d0yxU0G9UshO2KsSrcZ8ytgkAGHOk3VajgeXTKT09QTUNn600FA6SWoe1aJSpJT/s1600/fulton+canyon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVbSxlI6nzR18VKGHNcDr1v9_-aF31d7swnbs33xussVauBX1MaHd3yytB7E6RSIppBs8SVU-O2ht5_d0yxU0G9UshO2KsSrcZ8ytgkAGHOk3VajgeXTKT09QTUNn600FA6SWoe1aJSpJT/s1600/fulton+canyon.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing Fulton Canyon Rd.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJTlkMci3SSvfl8lBEe_q6xVtIwaQkVmCtNJbJIr4-Syd-PCitd2XImCd9WnAAlLQXAMzrxogeBW_M8OtQq1Ryxq45ljutHFpYuZmP7tjqav6SE9o_6KGyN-bJz79E0ZcXaLTq20_YHzTI/s1600/locust+grove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJTlkMci3SSvfl8lBEe_q6xVtIwaQkVmCtNJbJIr4-Syd-PCitd2XImCd9WnAAlLQXAMzrxogeBW_M8OtQq1Ryxq45ljutHFpYuZmP7tjqav6SE9o_6KGyN-bJz79E0ZcXaLTq20_YHzTI/s1600/locust+grove.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The old church at Locust Grove</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfrsif4s6v9qIFmz7FMrhEqBQazGLkUlMvlLnXlClIGrBJ2COzCXx1LZg4AmrLQltQo02IMJswUoe7kAS8bjz1fFOALemYUJuv7GAcIzAF0XQ98n-88JBQqE1Rj7VVyYHzf_hdLGSxo5SL/s1600/Fulton+Canyon+Rd+&+Van+Guilder+Rd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfrsif4s6v9qIFmz7FMrhEqBQazGLkUlMvlLnXlClIGrBJ2COzCXx1LZg4AmrLQltQo02IMJswUoe7kAS8bjz1fFOALemYUJuv7GAcIzAF0XQ98n-88JBQqE1Rj7VVyYHzf_hdLGSxo5SL/s1600/Fulton+Canyon+Rd+&+Van+Guilder+Rd.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Junction of Fulton Canyon & Van Gilder</td></tr>
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The next control is in Moro. Those with lots of time in the bank may opt for the Cafe. Those with less time may opt for the convenience store, with a pit stop in the public restrooms in the park across the Street.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji8XLH7VyqZb5CpG_XINbUJrqC_mHxL3Gy_aZNIjNJmhpLOW-haLI2qVawk4W5cVpEuOZi1H_yYfU3Kli6BJdQulqTFY565bNIekLNL2VKigzihoWm2ApKivLCaSSP_BvsvBgc586lfotg/s1600/Moro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji8XLH7VyqZb5CpG_XINbUJrqC_mHxL3Gy_aZNIjNJmhpLOW-haLI2qVawk4W5cVpEuOZi1H_yYfU3Kli6BJdQulqTFY565bNIekLNL2VKigzihoWm2ApKivLCaSSP_BvsvBgc586lfotg/s1600/Moro.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moro.</td></tr>
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Grass Valley is just 10 miles down the road. Although not a control, riders are encouraged to top up their water bottles, as the next opportunity is not until Tygh Valley, which is another 30+ miles and at least one good climb away.<br />
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After some amazing views of the Mt. Hood and Mt Jefferson, the roads drops down an incredibly twisty, seriously fun canyon road, through Buck Hollow and down to the Deschutes River at Sherar's Bridge.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsJi1_hWZOLESgeXCM8ZoG_Y_LVdtt17rKmmES5a3XOQN6d07BKZilm49-Ofap7PjZo_KUl5NoW-6xZjGRTTwdWQ63tLPHCkVjiy7wAsMi5fN3MAmTQDyqqT1MgqSifw77nkJNxcwq5vij/s1600/Mt.+Hood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsJi1_hWZOLESgeXCM8ZoG_Y_LVdtt17rKmmES5a3XOQN6d07BKZilm49-Ofap7PjZo_KUl5NoW-6xZjGRTTwdWQ63tLPHCkVjiy7wAsMi5fN3MAmTQDyqqT1MgqSifw77nkJNxcwq5vij/s1600/Mt.+Hood.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mt Hood</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8OwlK-uRI7j1Zo8kna4gJAfp3uAJsYgFrSJxjtUZD6nNGyJjhvSHvAVTBL0O57brceqRhl2-cKXt9ut3kvYAUJ6X5HiKIxVn2Tn9un48JyAtDL5xxGkK1NexC-7cfa-AUtMaQDVmtdcU7/s1600/Deschutes+River.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8OwlK-uRI7j1Zo8kna4gJAfp3uAJsYgFrSJxjtUZD6nNGyJjhvSHvAVTBL0O57brceqRhl2-cKXt9ut3kvYAUJ6X5HiKIxVn2Tn9un48JyAtDL5xxGkK1NexC-7cfa-AUtMaQDVmtdcU7/s1600/Deschutes+River.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Deschutes River near Sherar's Bridge</td></tr>
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A climb out of the canyon will take riders to the next control at Tygh Valley. Once again, please fill all three of your bottles, as the climb up Tygh Ridge is long. Most riders will do this climb in mid-afternoon when the temps will reach their highest. If you are lucky. you will see elk on the slopes to your right as you climb.<br />
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Once you summit Tygh Ridge at mile 97, pat yourself on the back. You've done nearly all of the climbing there is to be done! Most of the rest of the ride is downhill, with just 600 feet left to do over the remaining 29 miles.<br />
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A rippin' descent on Dufur Gap Rd will take you to an info control (keep an eye on your odometer and don't miss it!) and then on into Dufur. Kramer's Market will be a welcome refuge on a hot day with lots of tasty options for food and drink.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtdIMHyPoeKB_kuTrm6eX_J6F8tleVTQKUg6kwN3SaV1XhQUmW0YcYzp0R3LfwCLgr3lwGJWNEljCCd8BjKlxxWiwHQTj0kK1-JdMQLz-zAmIXIqCjrKnNaGsf5EV3z4rojjUFY_04FF9b/s1600/Dufur.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtdIMHyPoeKB_kuTrm6eX_J6F8tleVTQKUg6kwN3SaV1XhQUmW0YcYzp0R3LfwCLgr3lwGJWNEljCCd8BjKlxxWiwHQTj0kK1-JdMQLz-zAmIXIqCjrKnNaGsf5EV3z4rojjUFY_04FF9b/s1600/Dufur.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ask not what Dufur can do fer you. Ask what you can do fer Dufur.</td></tr>
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Finally, 20 miles of (mostly) downhill backroads will take you back to The Dalles.
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If you travel to The Dalles and need a place to stay before or after the ride, Cousins is always a great option,with a convenient Denny's a short walk away for an early a.m. breakfast.</div>
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<i>Again, due to the likelihood of high heat, the distance between controls, and the exposure to sun (ie. lack of shade) on many of the roads you will be traversing, you are strongly encouraged to carry three water bottles.</i><br />
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Route: <a href="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/3882435">http://ridewithgps.com/routes/3882435</a><br />
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Susan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3832125806355474162.post-3080119775507481372014-06-02T17:55:00.000-07:002014-06-02T18:02:37.832-07:00StuckA customer called <a href="http://www.teamestrogen.com/" target="_blank">Team Estrogen</a> this afternoon with a dilemma. She'd put on a pair of cycling shoes for the first time and now she was stuck in them. She could not figure out how to get the buckle to release. She was stressing out because she needed to leave for the airport soon and she was about ready to take a knife to them and cut through the straps. Instead, she called us (which is pretty cool, because she didn't buy the shoes from us, but thought of us when she needed help). After listening to her describe it, I recommended she email me a photo. She did, and I had her out of them in about 10 seconds. :-) <br />
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Not only was I happy that I could help someone, it was also a good reminder that so much about our sport is NOT intuitive. We need to nurture and support our beginner and novice riders. Experienced riders sometimes forget that learning to shift is complicated, and clipless pedals can be scary, and shorts with chamois feel weird, and <a href="http://www.teamestrogen.com/content/asa_levers" target="_blank">changing a flat tire</a> seems daunting, and on and on. All the little things that seem natural to us now are in fact things that can take ages to learn and be comfortable with. <br />
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Helping another rider gain confidence and skills is so rewarding. If you are out for a ride and see someone pulled off to the side of the road, stop and ask her if she has everything she needs. You just might save someone's ride!<br />
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And if you see someone looking lost or confused at the start of an event, offer some assistance. Your friendliness might be just what it takes to get her ride off to a great start.<br />
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<br />Susan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3832125806355474162.post-26256874418035879082014-05-07T10:22:00.002-07:002014-05-07T10:22:48.656-07:00Cast of Characters - LEL 2013Damon Peacock put together a video of the "cast of characters" from<a href="http://susanotcenas.blogspot.com/2014/05/2013-london-edinburgh-london-1418km.html"> my ride report for the 2013 edition of London-Edinburgh-London.</a> Appearances by me, Lesli Larson, Vicki Tyer and Rob Walker. <br />
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So honored and grateful to Damon for helping to bring the adventure back to life!<br />
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<br />Susan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3832125806355474162.post-40900978030858822962014-05-06T23:38:00.000-07:002014-05-07T00:45:06.304-07:002013 London - Edinburgh - London 1418km Randonnee<div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>“100 miles to go. 15:30 to do it in. Not sure I'm going to make it. Seriously. HUGE headwind, very hot and I'm completely exhausted. Took a 30 minute nap at last control.<span class="apple-converted-space"> Lesli</span> is feeling much stronger, so she went on ahead.”<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">THIS was my “shoot me now” moment. I always seem to have one, late in a long brevet. And now, 780 miles and 101 hours after setting off on the 2013 edition of the London-Edinburgh-London randonee, I was having my moment.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>[August 26<sup>th</sup>, 2011. One day after completing PBP 2011. Via the TeamEstrogen.com forums]:</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">“So, here I am 29 hours later. My body has taken quite a beating. My knees (which have never given me trouble) are very, very sore. My right shoulder (which I injured falling on railroad tracks in March) is really uncomfortable, 8-9 of my fingers have some degree of numbness, my butt is sore (though in remarkably good shape. Thanks to awesome shorts and Lantiseptic, I have no broken skin.), and obviously my quads are completely depleted. My lower back is definitely tweaked too.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i><i><span style="color: #333333;"><br /><br /><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">Will I do it again? Probably not. It's a checkmark on the bucket list, yes, but jeez louise, it was really really hard. Really hard. I'm not entirely sure doing it again would be worth the damage to my body.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">AND SO, you might ask, how was it that two short years later I should find myself having a shoot me now moment halfway around the world on a ride even longer than PBP?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Good question. It would, of course, be easy to lay the blame at the feet of Narayan, a rando pal from Seattle who initially emailed a link to LEL (which I’d never heard of) to both Lesli and I sometime in the year after PBP. By then, the physical ailments as well as the harsh memory of the pain and difficulty of PBP had faded into the mists of time, leaving mostly just the euphoria of having completed the ride and the thrill of having participated in the “Olympics”, if you will, of randonneuring events.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yup, it would be easy to blame Narayan. It would also be easy to blame Lesli, Enabler-In-Chief, who did nothing to discourage the idea, with her “I’ll do it if you’ll do it” reply to Narayan’s email.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But really, I’ve no one to blame but myself. Like many (most?) randonneurs, I suffer from frequent and thorough bouts of randonesia, wherein the satisfaction of having completed an event completely obliterates the memory of the arduousness of the challenge. And so, like a crack addict who needs her next fix, I look for the next challenge, the next big hill to climb, the next distance to conquer, the next country to visit. LEL, at 1418km (881 mi) with 37000 feet of climbing, fit the bill perfectly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>[January 4<sup>th</sup>, 2013 via gmail from Danial Webb <a href="mailto:info@londonediburghlondon.com">info@londonediburghlondon.com</a>]:</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">“Hi Susan</span></i><i><span style="color: #222222;"><br /><br /><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">Thank you for your entry to London Edinburgh London…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And so, it began.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am not a natural athlete. Not even close. In high school, I played trombone in the orchestra. The only trophies I won were in thespian competitions. In college I gained the typical Freshman Fifteen, studied economics, and smoked a pack a day. In my 20s and 30s, I gained more weight, started a business, bought a house and “settled down”. But as I approached my 40<sup>th</sup> birthday, I knew I needed to make some changes. And my bicycle, which I’d always ridden for pleasure and exercise, became the vehicle for those changes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Four years ago I found randonneuring, and it changed my life. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But it’s never been easy for me. There’s nary a fast twitch muscle fiber in my body. I climb slowly. I’m still 20 pounds too heavy. I probably carry too much crap in my ride bag and I’m a lousy mechanic. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yes, I have a small engine. But, it turns out I have a VERY big gas tank. Randonneuring has taught me that when I pace myself, I can ride pretty much forever. I know how to fuel my body, manage my energy levels well, rarely have stomach trouble, and nearly never get sleepy on my bike. In short, I am a tortoise worthy of an Aesop fable.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Going into my preparation for LEL, I knew it would be those skills that would have to carry me through the event. I was prepared to make up for lack of speed with lack of rest. Still, if I was going to do more than simply survive LEL, I’d have to train carefully.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With that in mind, I set out to get myself to the starting line with the best chance of success. I rode 4,600 training miles between Jan 1 & LEL, including 14 200Ks, 2 300Ks, 1 400K, 2 600Ks and a fleche. I rode several weekends of back to back brevets and permanents. I tested my gear thoroughly, practiced control efficiency, and experimented with food. I also spent 7 months working with a personal trainer to improve my core, back and upper body strength. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Many of those miles were ridden with Lesli. Early on, we decided we would go to LEL as a team. Our riding styles are complimentary; she’s better on hills, I’m better on flats. She helps me maintain a positive attitude at oh-dark-thirty and I help her stay awake when she gets dozey. And despite a zillion hours spent riding together, we’ve not yet run out of topics to jabber on about, resulting in a non-stop commentary that seems to amuse most of our riding companions. I couldn’t ask for a better riding buddy for an endeavor of this length. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Me & Lesli, training in style. Photo courtesy of Theo Roffe</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>[July 28<sup>th</sup>, 2013 (Ride Day 1). 5am. Via Facebook]:</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Lesli and I start LEL in 2 hrs!! Riders F51 & F50. Wi-fi will be extremely limited, but we will try to post occasional updates. Many many thanks to our friends and families for all the support the last 6 months while we've spent crazy amounts of time training. Couldn't have done it without you!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As Lesli & I rode the 7 miles from our hotel to the ride start in Loughton, a northwest London suburb, I was feeling remarkably calm. I knew I’d put in the work. I knew I belonged here. I knew that there would be many ups and downs (literally and figuratively) to come. And I knew that I would have to find my way past the inevitable low moments…the shoot me now moment…<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">At the start line of LEL. Only 1418km to go!</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">53 million people live in England, a country roughly the size of, say, Louisiana (pop. 5MM) or Mississippi (pop. 3MM). Google “urban sprawl in England” and you’ll find any number of articles lamenting the loss of the English countryside and the encroachment of business parks and retail shopping malls into the rural areas.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, it is to the great credit of the LEL organizers and route planners that we saw none of that. Leaving Loughton, we rapidly left the suburban fringes of London behind and soon found ourselves in the countryside. What we saw was an impossibly green, endlessly rolling landscape dotted with picturesque villages. Narrow, unstriped country lanes lined with farms. Pastures delineated with hand-constructed rock walls that disappeared off into the horizon. Thatch-roofed cottages. It was easy to imagine that this bucolic scenery had hardly changed in centuries.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Soon we passed out of the rolling hills and into the Fens, a flat low-lying region originally consisting of marshy wetlands but long since drained and turned into an agricultural region supported by canals. With a tailwind, we cruised through this wide open landscape rapidly, making great time as we worked our way north. The easy riding facilitated conversations with the riders around us. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Lesli in the Fens.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Day 1 selfie. It was all downhill from here.</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">997 riders from 33 countries started LEL, and we were determined to chat with as many of them as possible. Despite the huge distances to be covered, over the next 5 days we would run into the same people over and over again. Only 60 or so of the riders were female, so while we were usually met by cheery cries of “Hi Susan!, Hi Lesli!” as riders passed us on the road or greeted us in controls, Lesli and I often resorted to giving male riders nicknames to remember them by. Such as “Viva Las Vegas” for the Derbyshire policeman who wed in Sin City. Or “The Asym Swede” for the patriotically-clad rider with a heavily laden backpack rotated at a precarious angle off the side of his back. While I tended to identify people by their apparel, Lesli fixated on their bikes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">ElliptoGO. 3 started, 2 finished.</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ah yes, the bikes. Here in the Pacific NorthWet, steel is real, waxed cotton handlebar bags supported by porteur racks are de rigueur, and woe is the rider who turns up for a brevet without a pavement-skimming courtesy flap firmly affixed to his hammered Honjo fenders. Not so at LEL! If it rolled, someone was riding it. Steel, carbon, titanium? Check. Little-wheeled Moultons & Bromptons? Check. 3-wheeled upright tricycles ridden by cheeky English gents? Check. Two-wheeled recumbents, low-slung recumbent trikes, homebuilt recumbent rigs held together by duct tape and coroplast, rocket-fast velomobiles…. Check, check and check. ELLIPTIGOS???? Yup, check that too. As varied as the bikes were the varieties of luggage. Backpacks, handlebar bags, bento boxes, panniers, frame bags... If it could be slung on a bike (or body) and stuffed with gear, people used it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Rob Walker</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Earth is nearly 25,000 miles in circumference. More than 10,000 miles from Oregon - very nearly halfway around the globe - is Capetown. Yet here, on a bridge in England, we found ourselves in the company of the delightful South African Rob Walker. Although we’d never met before, it felt like meeting an old friend, thanks to frequent interactions on the LEL Facebook page.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The LEL facebook page was a treasure trove. Say what you will about Facebook, but the sense of community and excitement it created around the event was unprecedented. People from all over the world connected, shared stories of training adventures, swapped gear ideas and more. By the time the ride started, it felt like a gathering of old friends, rather than strangers.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Night fell as we crossed the Humber Bridge, the 7<sup>th</sup> longest single-span suspension bridge in the world. Originally planned in the 1930s, the bridge was not opened until 1981. Clearly the English government is as efficient as ours. The bridge was a delight, with a wide, fast and smooth pedestrian/bicyclist sidepath on both sides. Rob confessed that he’d just passed his farthest distance ever ridden in one day. There’s something very special about being present when someone celebrates a milestone.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">The Humber Bridge at nightfall.</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>[July 28<sup>th</sup>, 2013 (Ride Day 1). 11:45pm 205 miles]</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pfft…pfft…pfft…pfft… The unmistakable sound of air escaping my rear tire quickly deflated my excitement about being only three miles from Pocklington, our chosen overnight control. Well, CRAP! Rob, ever the gentleman, offered to stop and help me repair it, but I insisted that he go on. Lesli and I pulled off the side of the road, and with a heavy sigh, I started to dig into my bag for my spare tire, a fresh tube and my tools. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“How long is it going to take you to fix that?” came the inquiry from a rider paused under the same street light. “Well, given that it’s dark and I’m tired, a good 30 minutes or so, start to finish” I replied. “Oh, here, gimme that. Let me fix it for you. I used to be a professional mechanic and can do it far more quickly that that!” he said. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And so it was that I was introduced to Jonathan from Long Island, yet another rider I’d met “virtually”, but never in person. After receiving repeated assurances that he really didn’t mind, I flipped the bike, pulled off the wheel and handed it over. And sure enough, he had it fixed in no time ‘flat’. Thank you, Jonathan!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This would not be the last time someone took time out of their own ride to help Lesli and I. The generosity of randos never fails to impress.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>[July 29<sup>th</sup>, 2013 (end of Ride Day 1). 12:38am 208 miles]</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I’m sorry, but there are no beds available right now.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After 17.5 hours and 208 miles, there are few things you could say to me that would make my heart sink further. The line of people queuing for a bed began to grow. But not move at all.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Some controls had better food than others. This one...</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lesli and I adopted a tag team approach. She waited in line while I grabbed some food from the chow line, then I waited in line, food in hand, while she foraged for edibles. The bed line still wasn’t moving. Eventually, I asked another rider to hold my place, and approached the two volunteers who were huddled in conversation at the white board, which was completely filled with wake-up times for sleeping riders, most times being many hours from now.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Excuse me”, I said. “I just want to ask… Is there any point in us standing here in line right now? I mean, it is reasonable for us to expect that there’s going to be bed space for us, or should we just move on and find some other arrangements elsewhere?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After being assured that they were (somewhat cryptically) working on “opening up another room”, I resumed my place in line. Eventually, Lesli took my place in line, while I went back to the table where our gear was spread out, to start to organize my crap for the next day.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Suddenly, I heard Lesli call my name, as she moved towards the exit with the entire rest of the line! I jumped up, leaving all of our collective belongings at the table, and rushed out the door to follow her. In stocking feet (since we’d been asked to take off shoes at the door and there was no time to retrieve them), we were led out into the parking lot, where it was now raining. Following a volunteer, we were led on what felt, to my tired brain, like a circuitous route around a couple of buildings, past some caravans, into an alleyway, around a corner, and into another building. Inside was a large room with a wooden floor and rows of single blankets laid out one beside the other. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I’m afraid we’ll have no system for wake-up calls in here”, said the volunteer. No worries, I thought. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While not the air mattress that had been advertised, it would sure beat sleeping under a table in the cafeteria. Rando is such a classy endeavor.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Afraid of losing even these meager spots, Lesli and I tag-teamed heading for the shower. The water was cold and they’d run out of towels. Somewhere Lesli scrounged up a damp washcloth-sized scrap of fabric for us to use. Here we also met Teresa from the San Francisco Randonneurs. We shared with her the location of the sleeping space like spies trading national security secrets.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Beside me, Lesli was asleep and snoring as soon as her head hit the floor. Me, not so much. While I have the enviable ability to stay awake on my bike, it comes at the cost of not being able to shut down when I really need to. I lay there on the hard floor listening to the sounds of people moving about for a long time before I finally drifted off to sleep.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 1 stats:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Miles: 208<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Elevation gain: 6,125 feet<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Elapsed time: 17:38<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Moving time: 14:42<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: blue;">Average speed: 14.1 mph</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>[July 29<sup>th</sup>, 2013 (Day 2) 4:52am, 208 miles]</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4 hours after we arrived, with less than 2.5 hours sleep, we pushed off towards the next control at Thirsk.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Day 2 sunrise</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Between Pocklington & Thirsk lie the Howardian Hills and Castle Howard, so named for – surprise! - the Howard family. What I remember most about this section is how relentlessly up and down it seemed, one hill after the next. While there were no big climbs, there were many steep downhills followed quickly by steep uphills, requiring one to stand out of the saddle to maintain any momentum. Nonetheless, I often found myself rapidly ratcheting down into my easiest gear. I find this type of terrain to be exhausting, never allowing me to develop a rhythm. The lanes were very narrow, and in many places criss-crossed with muddy, gravelly run-off from the previous night’s showers. I was very grateful to be doing this section in daylight, and immediately thought of frequent riding buddy Norm, who had expressed an intention to ride all night and into the next day before having a sleep stop. I hoped he had navigated this section safely in the dark and rainy night.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtvAB6RRjGSWoiy3hCYq7bwHZ_7llQmrh8g4DUa-tNXSD1rJZ4w6Sq6rGGfJcBrqrMLMkzVB0ngp6W5tkmTB9LuX-KHN_qKKTTbAR-_HiPoZAhlT9WQwCT22ZpbmIKJ7Uuh4P27cSsO-Q/s1600/P1040245.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtvAB6RRjGSWoiy3hCYq7bwHZ_7llQmrh8g4DUa-tNXSD1rJZ4w6Sq6rGGfJcBrqrMLMkzVB0ngp6W5tkmTB9LuX-KHN_qKKTTbAR-_HiPoZAhlT9WQwCT22ZpbmIKJ7Uuh4P27cSsO-Q/s1600/P1040245.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">On the grounds of Castle Howard</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We soon came upon a fast 17% down slope, which at the bottom, curved quickly into an unseen bend with mud across the road. I scrubbed all my speed, rounded the corner cautiously, and was immediately faced by a wall. A 19% wall.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There are only so many matches in my matchbook. Not willing to burn one up here, I bailed off my bike and started pushing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>[July 29<sup>th</sup>, 2013 (Day 2), 1:29pm, 288 miles]</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoBN5no8Ps36QRtFZaeSVgEZb02ljrRijylg9U0rx1xqSe6ponUBceUvA0c5stuL_yqAoobDSfLje2Mr0wrSn0PwbH7GHZKnMyNsnP01fjEXwMdNGxdAyGhHGJPKds8eEkuqgv0ddNxSs/s1600/P1040249.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoBN5no8Ps36QRtFZaeSVgEZb02ljrRijylg9U0rx1xqSe6ponUBceUvA0c5stuL_yqAoobDSfLje2Mr0wrSn0PwbH7GHZKnMyNsnP01fjEXwMdNGxdAyGhHGJPKds8eEkuqgv0ddNxSs/s1600/P1040249.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Vickie Tyer</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lesli & I left Barnard Castle with Vickie Tyer (Lone Star Randonneurs) ready to conquer the much-anticipated climbs through the Northern Pennines and the largest climb of the ride up and over Yad Moss, which we would cross again on the return trip. Yad Moss is peat moorland, penetrated by old lead and coal mines. Now it is covered in vast grazing lands, with one of England’s few ski resorts at it’s very top.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At an elevation of just 2000 feet, it barely registers to me as much more than a big hill, thanks to all the climbing we do here in Oregon & Washington. This is the kind of climbing I love. With a moderate grade, I can gear down, find a steady rhythm and climb forever. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Impossibly green, isn't it?</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhD6r_viR454kYsRhxxWhU8O9Dtu40Iy-OV3jehLx9sXhfrs6h_pmUBcdPFcfArO7pMdO5vzGAuQ0PWRvGDkXc52Ab6dMQIf5d8sQl4AtzOsVui_BdfTNof4NFGlRKEQih6u1-Jk-FtgY/s1600/P1040254.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhD6r_viR454kYsRhxxWhU8O9Dtu40Iy-OV3jehLx9sXhfrs6h_pmUBcdPFcfArO7pMdO5vzGAuQ0PWRvGDkXc52Ab6dMQIf5d8sQl4AtzOsVui_BdfTNof4NFGlRKEQih6u1-Jk-FtgY/s1600/P1040254.JPG" height="201" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Lesli pulls ahead on climbs, as always</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUJbOQYgfOXiUB1GdD446zAHifUTRWVgM98mCZcWZbxYcM0XyoOSdJIcIcErxq5Omxu8NOwAiqFW1nvPDbSnQx-3nKSUOZTznjLMTxVYSDEYcvnefa5YIOkGU2D704IJxE-9aBilFuYig/s1600/P1040260.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUJbOQYgfOXiUB1GdD446zAHifUTRWVgM98mCZcWZbxYcM0XyoOSdJIcIcErxq5Omxu8NOwAiqFW1nvPDbSnQx-3nKSUOZTznjLMTxVYSDEYcvnefa5YIOkGU2D704IJxE-9aBilFuYig/s1600/P1040260.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Getting going again after a break. This is not going to work.</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The climbing was made all the more easy by the stunning views down to the rushing South Tyne River. As we gained elevation, the trees dropped away, revealing a landscape so vast, green and empty of most signs of human habitation that it took my breath away. Sheep pastures were splayed along the hillsides, with a ribbon of pavement cutting a path to the top, cyclists clad in bright vests against the chill wind marking the way. As we neared the summit, Rob caught up to us again, and the four of us celebrated our summit with photos.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Near the summit of Yad Moss</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our reward was miles and miles of effortless descending to the village of Alston, with its charmingly cobble-stoned town square. What a wonderful day to be alive.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>[July 29<sup>th</sup>, 2013 (day 2), 8:30pm, 356 miles]</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ydIBBTNM6SQYTLSyd7-T6wgyWPAjjlXq5bdYGX8Zxv5Sxt9XQ8SaKdNTW2Ex2vR_19WgB2uhr3iiuhjQt5g4qxdj2S6NLkLpCjfy5Rs80LMejVtfG00aY1FUeHXRfHbfchyphenhyphengHc1Wh6o/s1600/IMG_4564.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ydIBBTNM6SQYTLSyd7-T6wgyWPAjjlXq5bdYGX8Zxv5Sxt9XQ8SaKdNTW2Ex2vR_19WgB2uhr3iiuhjQt5g4qxdj2S6NLkLpCjfy5Rs80LMejVtfG00aY1FUeHXRfHbfchyphenhyphengHc1Wh6o/s1600/IMG_4564.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Scotland Welcomes You.</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Scotland Welcomes You”. So said the sign. But a change in our surroundings was noticeable almost immediately. Whereas we would pass through small English villages with residents walking on the high street and lights cheerily lighting the windows of the houses, Scottish villages felt eerily empty. There was virtually no one on the streets and most of the houses were dark. Like people had just picked up and left. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">20 miles after crossing the border, we passed through Lockerbie. On December 21<sup>st</sup> 1988, 243 passengers and 16 crew members boarded Pan Am Flight 103 at Heathrow Airport, bound for JFK. Little more than 30 minutes after takeoff, a bomb planted by Libyan terrorists, exploded. Everyone on the flight was killed as were 11 residents on the ground in the village of Lockerbie. We expected to see a monument of sorts remembering that day. And perhaps there was one, but all we found to mark our passage was a reflective street sign in the fading light.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJqSfFpMT5HDYzgp43HfiwHa6g5jBGc5-3FVX2ENZ5Wrc855XNza5DKhWs8GXSk-iQdqvEkK1Xhl553pUvhq01no6jCbWAPyw2TrGoAvJxI-sNHEZmnmJByNyqzvGt9VFjkTgJA1Hte7o/s1600/P1040275.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJqSfFpMT5HDYzgp43HfiwHa6g5jBGc5-3FVX2ENZ5Wrc855XNza5DKhWs8GXSk-iQdqvEkK1Xhl553pUvhq01no6jCbWAPyw2TrGoAvJxI-sNHEZmnmJByNyqzvGt9VFjkTgJA1Hte7o/s1600/P1040275.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not too far from Lockerbie, as the last light of day was leaving the sky, an Air Force jet came screaming out of nowhere, shattering the relative silence around us. It was so low and so sudden, that both of us instinctively ducked and cringed. And then, just like that, it was gone.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>[July 29<sup>th</sup>, 2013 (day 2), ~380 miles (~500 miles to go)]</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Long-distance cycling makes me giddy-stupid sometimes. I often find myself singing silly songs, making up words to fit as I go.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With apologies to Peter, Paul & Mary, and to anyone who was in the vicinity to hear us singing our milestone song…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #676767;">Lord I'm one, Lord I'm two, Lord I'm three, Lord I'm four,<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: #676767;"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">Lord I'm 500 miles away from home.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br /><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">500 miles, 500 miles, 500 miles, 500 miles<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br /><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">Lord I'm five hundred miles away from home.<span class="apple-converted-space"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #676767;">Not a shirt on my back, not a penny to my name<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i><i><span style="color: #676767;"><br /><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">Lord I'm 500 miles from my home.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br /><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">500 miles, 500 miles, 500 miles, 500 miles<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br /><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">Lord I'm five hundred miles away from home.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></i><i><span style="background-color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>[July 29<sup>th</sup>, 2013 (day 2), 11:23pm 386 miles]</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After the chaos that was our overnight control at Pocklington, the control at Moffat was like a well-oiled machine. The food was hot and plentiful. The showers had hot water and were well stocked with shampoo(!) and body wash(!). There were clean towels. And best of all, there were plenty of beds. YES! A volunteer carefully led us through a pitch black room to side-by-side air mattresses well supplied with 2 blankets. Although we were running a little behind our planned schedule, we desperately needed sleep and requested a 3am wakeup. Unlike the night before, I was asleep before my head hit the mattress.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 2 stats:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Miles: 181 miles (386 cumulative)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Elevation gain: 9,429 feet (15,554 cumulative)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Elapsed time: 18:31 (40:23 cumulative)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Moving time: 15:01<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: blue;">Average speed: 12.0 mph</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>[July 30<sup>th</sup>, 2013 (day 3), 3:54am, 386 miles]</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Breakfast of oatmeal, sausage sandwiches and plenty of coffee. Body moving slowly. After two nights I’d managed to accumulate a grand total of less than 4.5 hours sleep. Time to push off.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Straight out of Moffat, we started climbing the Devils Beeftub. I don't know what a beeftub is, nor why the Devil needs one, nor why this climb is so named. But it was a beautiful sunrise, with the mists hanging over the hillsides. And it wasn't a difficult climb either. Actually, a rather nice way to start the day!. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Day 3 selfie, climbing towards Devil's Beeftub. Working on less than 4.5 hrs sleep.</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Other cyclists were up and passing us occasionally, their red taillights showing the way in the dim light. For reasons lost to the mists of the beeftub, Lesli and I started belting out Helen Reddy as we climbed. But of course, we couldn’t remember most of the words…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am woman hear me roar<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In numbers too big to ignore<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #666666;">Da dah da dada, da dah da da da daa-ah…</span></span></span></i><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the top of the climb, the hillsides came together. We popped over the top of the ridge and began the long descent. For the first time, I pulled on my Goretex jacket against the chill morning air. As we passed some really desolate houses off on the hillsides, I wondered if they were occupied or abandoned. Hard to tell.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL_5KAMIw-CMOtCA5zz5L4rkcVJGW9Ji4d8GoWfoLehZs8aeBSI3m4Ij7FX9_jashPwceAIyenE0choICwc3HCJ74Wcc0qfBg1Ss5h4ogKGkmLOBwrpevwxmGkoySg6fOvCX0vvsaynLg/s1600/P1040291.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL_5KAMIw-CMOtCA5zz5L4rkcVJGW9Ji4d8GoWfoLehZs8aeBSI3m4Ij7FX9_jashPwceAIyenE0choICwc3HCJ74Wcc0qfBg1Ss5h4ogKGkmLOBwrpevwxmGkoySg6fOvCX0vvsaynLg/s1600/P1040291.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Misty morning in Scotland</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We progressed north; one thing that really struck us was how crummy the roads were. Time, erosion, bad weather and heavy vehicles had really taken their toll on some of the surfaces. Imagine the worst chipseal you’ve ever been on, then quadruple the decrepit-ness factor. Sucked any momemtum right out from under us.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">EDINBURGH! Festivals, castles, bagpipes…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">OK, well, not really Edinburgh proper, but rather a middle school </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">somewhere south of the city. Apparently, if you knew what direction to look in, you could spot the city off in the distance. Slightly anti-climactic in that regard. But, hey, so what, we’re here!!</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Halfway done in 50:34. 66 hours to make it back to London. How hard can it be, right? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Pretty sure this would not be recommended in your typical bike mag.</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The atmosphere at the control was, not surprisingly, pretty festive. Folks were in a chipper mood, as were we! I went off is search of food.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bicycling magazines, fitness websites and bookstore shelves are replete with articles on proper sports nutrition. The Interwebs overflow with recipes for foodstuffs containing the proper balance of nutrients to ingest for maximal performance. Fortunes are made on businesses that do nothing but make science diet products for endurance athletes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But in real life, hundred of miles into a ride with hundreds of miles left to go, you can just throw all that shit right out the window.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have this belief that our bodies know what we need. And that out on rando rides, one should not try to question too much what appeals at any given time. Given how finicky stomachs get on long rides, if it looks and smells appetizing, just go with it. So, despite the early hour, what appealed to me at that moment was the fish pie. Now, I wouldn’t normally eat fish on a bike ride, but the smell wafting from the food service line was heavenly. The volunteer put a steaming pile of whiteness on my plate and I was a happy camper. Looking it up online later, I’m guessing it was haddock, potatoes, flour, butter, milk, some spices and maybe some cheese. But who cares, really. It was yummy!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">This is the Good Stuff.</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As we departed Edinburgh, we made a quick stop for some, um, lotions and potions. Better living through chemistry.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not long after leaving Edinburgh, Lesli mentioned a sudden clicking sound she was hearing with every pedal stroke I thought it sounded like a chain ring bolt needed some attention. We dismounted to investigate. As soon as she touched her tool to a bolt, it fell right out of the chain ring, sheered in half.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This was Not Good.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the heart of randonneuring is the ethos of self-sufficiency. Take care of yourself and your mates. Take care of your body. Take care of your machine. Carry what you need to do all of the above, as rescue will not be forthcoming. The challenge, of course, is finding the “balance point” between carrying enough to be self sufficient but not so much that you are being overly paranoid. How many failure points are there on a bike? What can you realistically fix? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While both of us carry a pretty good variety of miscellaneous bits and pieces, chain ring bolts are not one of them. So, we assessed the situation... We could go back to Edinburgh, but we didn’t have tons of time in the bank. But going forward seemed dubious, as we had over 80 miles to go until the next big control at Brampton. There were two small interim controls deep into the hills of Scotland, but those had been specifically called out as minor controls, with food, drink and not much more available. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We decided to go forward. To minimize stress on the remaining 4 bolts, we determined that Lesli should try to just sit and spin, rather than stand and climb out of the saddle. For Lesli, being a strong climber who likes to stand and pedal, and facing a TON of climbing between here and Brampton, this was excruciating. We set off into the hills, into a quickening wind, with Lesli being uncharacteristically quiet. I knew she was seriously stressing, worried about breaking a chain ring, which would be a ride-ending mechanical. I soooo wanted to be able to make things all better, to fix things, to make her feel better… but there was nothing I could do. When it became clear that she wanted to be alone with her thoughts for a while, I pedaled on ahead to give her some space.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think I am a terrible friend. Really. After pulling ahead of Lesli, I stuffed my earbuds into my ears, turned on my music and started pedaling. The terrain was generally up, the wind was generally in our faces, the sky was starting to cloud over and there was a chill in the air. All this, plus Lesli’s troubles, should have left me feeling blue. But as the calories from the fish pie kicked in, and the music throbbed in my ears, I felt *good*. My legs felt strong, my energy was high, and I found a rhythm. I stood on my pedals, and the miles seemed to disappear beneath my wheels. It was exhilarating. The guilt would have to wait.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>[July 30<sup>th</sup>, 2013 (day 3), 12:35pm, 464 miles]</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Wiseguys</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Traquair control was bustling when we arrived. The mischievous organizers had ordered numerous cakes decorated with witty LEL banter. (Only 653km to go!) (LEL? LOL!) They had also set out wee drams of scotch. Lots of riders declined, but given the stress of the morning, I was like Hell Yeah, I’ll have some Scotch. I grabbed some cake for Lesli & I and went out to find Lesli in conference with a volunteer.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Photo by Lesli Larson</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Hell yes!</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He was an absolute doll, desperately attempting to assist at least 5 riders all at once, and despite noble intentions, failing to resolve anything for anyone as he bounced from crisis to crisis. I found my anxiety levels rising as he consulted maps, made some phone calls, and paced hither and yon. Eventually, we determined that the nearest bike shop was in Longtown, over the border in England. Lesli was understandably anxious to get there before its closing time, but I was skeptical we’d make it in time. Nonetheless, we set off, up into the hills once more. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rob Walker caught us not long after Traquair, and we hashed over the situation. Lesli’s bike was still making the disturbing clicking sound. While we didn’t have a bolt, I did have plenty of zip ties, and eventually we hatched a scheme to zip tie through the bolt hole with the idea that it might help lessen the strain on the remaining 4 bolts. Did it work? I dunno, but it did lessen the strain on our nerves.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>[July 30<sup>th</sup>, 2013 (day 3), 4:36pm, 493 miles]</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On the bank of the river Esk, in the hamlet of Eskdalemuir, sits the Kagyu Samye Ling Tibetan Buddhist Center. In addition to some of the BEST food the entire ride (thick slices of homemade bread, steaming bowls of nourishing soup), this tiny control had one other key element. A mechanic. With a tool box. A toolbox that contained a TA Cyclotourist chain ring bolt. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How does one convey how incredibly grateful she is to find just the right person in just the right place with just the right part? I didn’t know whether to cry tears of joy or to give the mechanic a huge sweaty stinky hug. I settled on the hug. He would probably have preferred the tears…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>[July 30<sup>th</sup>, 2013 (day 3), 8:43pm, 528 miles]</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">We're back! Photo courtesy of Lesli Larson.</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We arrived in Brampton with Vickie Tyer. We were cold and wet, having just weathered a HUGE rainstorm, followed by some spectacular rainbows, on the way in to the control. We’d only covered 142 miles, but we needed to sleep before tackling the return trip back over Yad Moss.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Double double</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Take THAT, Mother Nature!</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Unfortunately we had no drop bags here (they were at the next control in Barnard Castle). We ate, cleaned up, found the sleeping quarters, and asked for a 12:30a wakeup. I put on the only dry top I had, then proceeded to squander a RIDICULOUS amount of time trying to organize my wet gear in the near darkness of the sleeping room. My gear bag just seemed to explode into chaos. Really, I don’t know what the hell I was doing, and my foggy, exhaustion-addled brain was not functioning. I arranged and rearranged then rearranged again all the wet gear in a huge semi-circle at the foot of the mattress. I vaguely remember stuffing my shoes with paper towels to try to absorb some moisture, but otherwise I think I just floundered about until I finally gave up at 10:30pm and fell back onto the mattress. What an utter waste of time, time I that I didn’t have to waste.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Miles: 142 miles (528 cumulative)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Elevation gain: 7,963 feet (23,517 cumulative)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Elapsed time: 16:38 (61:43 cumulative)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Moving time: 12:39<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: blue;">Average speed: 11.2 mph</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>[July 31<sup>th</sup>, 2013 (day 4), 12:30am, 528 miles]</b></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Two hours of sleep. Two miserable hours repeatedly broken by vast waves of chills coursing though my body, which was clammy, still clad in the rain-dampened clothing from the night before. Huge, full body shivers that woke me out of sleep, after which I’d curl into a ball, hands tucked under my armpits, knees drawn up to my chest, and drift back off. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The volunteer woke us and I sat up immediately, head in hands, afraid I would fall asleep again if I didn’t sit up. Lesli popped up and managed to head off to the breakfast room quickly, while I had to contend with the gear explosion left from the night before. Finally I pulled myself together and hauled myself off to find Lesli.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I truly don’t know how time evaporates so quickly, but by the time we ate, assembled our crap on our bikes, found water and ride snacks, and collected Vickie, it was 1:30am. We set off – and up - towards Yad Moss.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We reached Alston, where the real climbing starts, around 3:30am. We pushed our bikes up the crazy steep, rain-dampened, cobbled-stoned street, then began the climb. Even this early, there was a faint lightening in the sky on the eastern horizon, and we could see that heavy clouds hung over most of the area. It was cold, and we hoped we would not have to climb in the rain.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As we climbed, Lesli pulled ahead, as she always does on climbs. I spun slowly, feeling tired but surprisingly not bad. I looked ahead, across the mostly treeless landscape and could pick out the tail lights of riders high up the road, as they moved up the mountain side.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The sky gradually lightened, turning phenomenal shades of purple, orange, red and yellow, punctuated by mist and dramatic clouds. We summited with the sunrise, and stopped to take it all in. We both cried a few tears, tears of joy. Yes, we had many many miles yet to go, but somehow, making that second summit of Yad Moss, we felt like we’d accomplished a huge milestone, and that maybe, finally, we could start to believe we just might finish this thing.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>[July 31<sup>th</sup>, 2013 (day 4), 12:25pm, 620 miles]</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On the outbound leg, the Thirsk control had been so jammed with riders that we had done little more than get our cards stamped and use the restrooms before moving on. The food lines had been so long that we left and opted for the supermarket instead.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On this return leg, however, the control was half empty. We still had several hours in the bank, but it was becoming evident that we were in the back quarter of the group, well into the “full value” category of riders.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nonetheless, we took a good long break here, fueling our bodies well. We knew that between here and the next control lie the toughest remaining section of the course, our return trip through the relentless and steep rollers of the Howardian Hills.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And indeed, we began climbing within a few kilometers of leaving the control. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Riding back through Castle Howard</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I hate rollers. I’ve never done well on them. But something funny happened to me in this section. Something that almost *never* happens to me on rollers. I felt good. I mean, *really* good. By any objective measure, I was a wreck. 620+ miles in, my legs should have been total shit. After 3 and half days of riding, I’d accumulated barely more than 6 hours of broken sleep. I should have been crawling up those hills in my teeniest chain ring, agonizing each pedal stroke. But I wasn’t. I was climbing well. AND, I was climbing better than a lot of people around me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Represent.</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I blasted down one particularly steep roller, called out to some folks to hold their lines (which were distinctly wobbly) and powered my way to the top of the next hill. Seeing a familiar rider who looked to be struggling, I slowed down to chat with him, hoping to help him pass the time a bit. Two of the riders I’d passed (both male) caught up to us. I turned to look and one of the riders looked at me, looked at my legs, slapped his thigh and said, in heavily accented English “Very niiice”. I couldn’t help myself; I bust out laughing! I’ve always been somewhat conflicted by my big butt and thighs. On an intellectual level, I know they are strong and healthy. My power house. My Wattage Cottage. I know I should love them. But when I can’t find blue jeans that fit them, when I look in the mirror and think they are monstrous, it’s often hard to love them. But at that moment, those two men paid me one of the biggest compliments of my life. I vow to never think disparagingly of my thighs ever again!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>[July 31<sup>th</sup>, 2013 (day 4), 5:36pm, 661 miles via Facebook]</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">“1065 km. 661mi. Pocklington again. 83 hours elapsed, 33:40 left to cover the remaining 220 miles. Sounds like a long time but trust me, it's not. Very little rest in our future. It's 6pm, we've been riding since 1:30am and have 52 miles to go before we sleep. And its raining... Long day. Cumulative sleep so far only 6hr 10 min</span></i><span style="background-color: white;">.-- <i>Lesli and I feel pretty good. Legs are strong. More rest would be nice, but we are holding up. Undercarriages are suffering the most. If I could stand the remaining 220 miles to London, I would…:<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Pocklington, Take 2.</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Despite liberal applications of Lantiseptic, my chamois had been irritating the heck out of the inner part of my thighs. The chamois was fairly substantial, and I think a lower profile one would have been a better choice for that day. But with 52 miles to go, there was nothing left to do but push on.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just as we were about to mount our bikes, Norm Carr rolled in. Ecstatic, I dropped my stuff, ran over and gave him a huge hug. Norm, Lesli and I had shared many training miles this season. Norm earned his first SR this spring, riding the 2<sup>nd</sup> day of a VERY hard 600K with us in the process. I’d been so impressed with his progress this season, and was doubly impressed that he’d taken on training for LEL having never ridden farther than a 400K prior to signing up. I thought that was very brave! And so now, seeing him here, so close to the end of the ride, was fantastic. Norm had started 3.5 hours behind us. I’d been tracking his progress throughout, and he had been slowly closing that gap the entire ride. I was so thrilled to see him. He planned to sleep while we pushed on.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Photo courtesy of Lesli Larson</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As we retraced our route to the Humber Bridge, we found ourselves riding again with Mr. Wobbly, a recumbent rider that we’d shared quite a few miles with off and on during the day. His stories were entertaining, and he and Lesli bantered on quite a bit. I was really starting to flag as we reached the bridge, the last light of day having left sky, seemingly taking with it all of my energy. Whereas earlier I’d seemed to have boundless energy, I now found myself struggling to keep up.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">25 miles out from Market Rasen, the ride took on a nightmarish quality for me. It started to rain in earnest. The terrain was climbing gently, but it felt like a mountain. The shrubbery was tall on both sides of the road, and I had the strange impression of being in a tunnel, the scenery every-unchanging. All of the exhaustion of the 4 days of hard effort began to weigh heavily on me. We found ourselves riding with a group and it was absolutely FREAKING ME OUT. Riders all around me were unsteady, not holding their lines (I’m sure I was the same way), the red of their taillights seemed overly bright and I began to feel the panic welling up inside of me, sure that I was bound to touch wheels with someone and go down. I backed off and started to cry stupid tears of exhaustion and frustration. I soooooooooo wanted to be done, to be out of the rain, to sleep, to be off my saddle and out of my shorts, to close my eyes, to eat some food, to be absolutely *anywhere* but where I was, which unfortunately was nowhere near Market Rasen. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Late late on the last night of PBP, the very same thing happened to me. Exhausted, alone, and miles from my overnight destination, I sat on a curb in the middle of some French village and had myself a good long cry, my own personal pity party. That time, Corey Thompson & Joe Platzner, two of my SIR friends, materialized out of the darkness and saved me from myself. But there would be no Joe and Corey to save me this time around.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Feeling utterly hopeless and needing to get off my bike, I stopped on the side of the road, and watched the taillights of Lesli & Mr. Wobbly recede into the darkness. I ate some food and tried to calm down. I don’t know how long I stayed there, but eventually I pulled it together and pedaled on. Soon I saw an oncoming headlight. Mr Wobbly, incredibly, had volunteered for bonus miles to come back and find me, to make sure I was OK. I doubt I ever gave him a proper thank you for that selfless act of kindness.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m really not sure how I made it the remaining miles to Market Rasen. Every pedal stroke hurt, and I seemed unable to stop moaning from pain and exhaustion every few strokes. It was agonizing. Truly, Lesli & Mr. Wobbly must have thought me to be a complete basket case. And they were right.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When we finally made Market Rasen, I wanted to kiss the pavement.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was 12:30 am. The journey from Brampton had taken us 23 hours. On our *fourth* riding day. Unreal. WHERE does that come from? How does a body/brain find what it needs to do such a thing? Hell, it’s my body, and damned if I know.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Market Rasen was like a refugee camp. Riders were exhausted, and the strain was showing on the volunteers as well. Two of the cooks were having a huge row, something about mushy peas, I think. Why is it that colorful language is so much more entertaining with an English accent?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I plopped my stuff on an empty table and found some food, though there wasn’t much choice left, the hot trays being mostly empty. I got my drop bag, went off and had a dreadful cold shower, put on some clothes and came back to find Lesli still at the table. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was miserable. Utterly exhausted, body stiff and sore all over, and in a terrible frame of mind. We had little time in the bank and it looked like we wouldn’t be getting much more than 1.5 hours sleep or so by the time we lay down. I expressed my skepticism at my ability to get going again in the morning. Lesli suggested I get some rest and not make any decisions at that moment. Good advice.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I went off to the bed check-in table, only to be told for the 2<sup>nd</sup> time in 4 days that there were no beds available. Are you kidding me? I tried desperately to swallow the exhausted tears welling up inside. God, I hate being one of those women who cry in situations like that. I took my waiting list number from the overwhelmed bed attendant, returned to the table where I’d abandoned my gear, and put my head in my hands.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Eventually my number was called and I stumbled off to bed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 4 stats:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Miles: 188 miles (716 cumulative)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Elevation gain: 8,799 feet (32,316 cum)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Elapsed time: 23:06 (89:30 cum)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Moving time: 17:17(where did 6 hours go??)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: blue;">Average speed: 10.9 mph (good grief!)</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>[August 1st, 2013 (day 5), ~4:00am, 716 miles]</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You would think, as tired as I was, that I would have slept the sleep of the dead. But no, not so much. Like the night before, waves of chills periodically ran through my body. Everything was stiff, and the soreness woke me whenever I moved. Plus, the air mattress I’d been given had mostly given up the ghost, being fairly well deflated by the time I was awoken by the volunteer.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I lay there for a few moments, weighing my options. I was so tired. It would have been so easy to just lay there and DNF. But my pride ultimately won out. The idea of having to go home with regrets, without a finisher’s medal, was what ultimately got me moving. I’d trained all year for this dammit. Time to get up.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I met Lesli at the table and told her I was ready to finish this thing. Ok then. First food. Um, yeah, there’s no food. I was shocked to see so little on offer, when so many people remained in the control. I managed to find some cereal off on a side table. There was no milk or anything else to put on it. I found half a pot of coffee, but there were no cups. Ah well, nothing to be done but to dump the coffee over the cereal and call it good.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Back at the table we started ditching everything we could possibly stuff into our drop bag. It was predicted to be VERY HOT all day, so anything resembling cold weather gear got dropped. Jacket, long sleeve jersey, toe warmers, long fingered gloves…buh bye. Lighten the load.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We finally departed at 5:15am. We had less than 20 minutes in the bank.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lesli & I left together, but it soon became apparent that she had more left in the tank than I did. The terrain was flat, but I kept falling off the back. I didn’t really feel *bad* exactly, but I just had so little left. Eventually, I simply stopped trying to keep up and let her go.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The road was flat, the sun came out, and it warmed up quickly. We were now retracing our way across the Fens. Day 1’s tailwinds were now Day 5’s headwinds. It was slow going. Very slow.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Flash back to July 14<sup>th</sup>, 2 weeks earlier. Lesli & I got together to pack our drop bags and talk about ride strategy. I’m a big believer in ride strategy. For every major ride, I build a planning spreadsheet, then distill it all down into a post-card sized slip of paper that I keep with my brevet card. After Lesli posted a photo of me and my spreadsheet on Facebook, a photo about which my friends ribbed me, calling it “overthinking”, I made the following remark:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I *am* a planner, and I really DO have a spreadsheet made for the ride. I'm not a "wing it" kind of girl. I used the same planning tool for PBP, and it kept me on track when I was too tired to think straight any more. It also helped me choose my drop bag locations based on where I expect to be when tired, etc. Rather than focus on how far there is yet to go, I find it very calming to know where I plan to rest, how I'm pacing myself relative to getting to the rest location, and staying on target for finishing. Those of you with more natural abilities may be able to wing it, since you are not ever really in danger of missing time cuts and are fast enough to get plenty of rest within the time limits. Me, not so much.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Feeling slow, but knowing I wasn’t too much behind schedule, I soldiered on.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>[August 1st, 2013 (day 5), ~9:12am, 757 miles]</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I arrived at Kirton alone. Not so many bikes in the corrals anymore. Concerned about time, I pulled out the schedule I’d made myself weeks before, using the spreadsheet I had taken so much ribbing over. And guess what: I was within FIVE MINUTES of the arrival time I’d estimated for myself. FIVE MINUTES! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don’t care; say what you will about me “overthinking”, but that spreadsheet is probably what saved my bacon at that moment. I’d “planned” an hour-long break at Kirton, and now was the time to take it. I grabbed a roll from the chow line and immediately checked in with the bed folks. The sleeping room was 100% EMPTY (surprise!) and I asked for a 30 minute wake-up call. It wouldn’t be much, but I hoped it would help rejuvenate me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don’t know if I slept, but when the attendant came to get me, he handed me a note from Lesli!! She’d seen me lying there and asked that it be given to me when I woke. She let me know she was going to go on, and encouraged me to stay strong and hang in there.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That note freed me. I’d spent the morning feeling guilty, like I was holding her back. Now I was free to move at whatever pace I could, not worrying that she was waiting for me somewhere. I silently thanked her, and wished her well. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Some angel had bought peanut butter and jelly, the first I’d seen the entire ride. PBJs are one of my favorite ride foods. I made myself 2 sandwiches to go and headed out into the building heat. It was going to get brutal.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Progress was very slow. The headwinds were terrible. I spent a lot of time in my aerobars doing 11 miles an hour. I listened to my music. I tried to eat. Traffic was heavy. At some point, my right arm slipped off my aerobar while I was eating a sandwich and I swerved into traffic, to the blaring of horns. Time to take a break.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I lay down under a shady tree to rest. Once again I was overwhelmed with exhaustion, with fear, with doubt. Worried about time again. And feeling desperately alone. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And so there, on the side of the road, I sent my Shoot Me Now update to Facebook:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b> [August 1<sup>st</sup> @ 12:14pm via Facebook]:</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">“100 miles to go. 15:30 to do it in. Not sure I'm going to make it. Seriously. HUGE headwind, very hot and I'm completely exhausted. Took a 30 minute nap at last control.<span class="apple-converted-space"> Lesli</span> is feeling much stronger, so she went on ahead.”</span></i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It would be so easy to just lie here and go to sleep. An oasis-like shady spot. Yes, lie here and let someone come sweep me up. Eventually the neighbors will be concerned, yes? And who really cares about this stupid ride anyway? 781 miles is just as good as 881 miles, right? Whose dumb idea was this????</span></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And indeed, there I might have sat, wallowing in my self-pity, if not for the bugs. Tiny biting bugs that wouldn’t let me rest. Crawling on my skin, making me itch. Best get moving before I get eaten alive. Back on the bike again.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">More pedaling, more headwinds.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The heat radiated from the road.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Aerobars, traffic, headwinds, heat, it all blurred together, endlessly.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I stopped in the shade of a SPAR convenience store, bought some snacks and cold drinks. It was air conditioned! The parking lot was deserted when I got there, but within 15 minutes it was crawling with riders, taking refuge in the shade and eating popsicles.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Desperate for some encouragement, I logged back in to facebook, hoping to see some notes from friends. What I found there nearly brought me to tears. But this time, happy tears.</span></span></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Katherine: HUGS! Come on I know you can do it!<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My Dad: I am feeling your pain. love dad<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Karen: You got it in you, Sista!<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sylvia: Be strong!!<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Michael: 15:30? Hell, you could walk it. You got this.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Their words gave me new found strength, and their confidence in me gave me hope. I pedaled on, slowly, slowly on.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>[August 1st, 2013 (day 5), ~4:05pm, 807 miles]</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I eventually rolled into St. Ives as the heat of the day was peaking. Once again, there wasn’t much food left, but the kitchen staff had cleverly taken all the leftover pasta and refrigerated it into individually sized packets. Landing with a plop on the plate, the presentation wasn’t much, but the cold, pure carbs were certainly welcome. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was out of on-bike food and needed something to take along. I ended up with three slices of white bread, smeared with butter, and packed into an old bread bag. This wouldn’t last long but it would have to do.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">50 miles since the last control, and it had taken me 6:45 between check-ins. No so zippy. I chatted with Michele, another American rider, who offered me company, but she was going to have an hour’s nap first, to sleep away some of the day’s heat. I wanted company for sure, but didn’t feel I had that much time in the bank.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I was preparing to leave, I saw Theresa, the same rider with whom we’d share the “secret sleeping space” location oh so long ago on that first night. We’d seen each other on and off in the interim, but had not ridden together. Seeing she was preparing to leave as well, I asked if I might ride along with her and her French companions for a bit. They welcomed me in to the group, and I was grateful.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Riding with this group was very interesting. They had logged all their miles together since the start, and had very good discipline going. They rode steadily, but not quickly. Staying together on the hills, never punching it, staying together on the descents, never getting strung out. At times, it seemed too slow for me, but I realized that the discipline in pacing was actually a good thing at this late hour, and settled in. The riders chatted quietly in French, which I don’t speak, but I was ok just to ride. One of the riders spoke some English, and we spoke off and on, about this and that, none of which I remember clearly. Mostly, I remember feeling a sense of calm and relief wash over me, as we rode our way slowly into our very last sunset.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">I'll be done before I see that sun again</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Climbing a hill, one of our group fell over sideways, completed exhausted. We all stopped to help him. I had extra drink powder in my bag, and mixed him up a bottle, hoping the calories would revive his energy. We set off again, one of his buddies helping him up the hills with a gentle hand on his lower back, using some of his own power to help his friend in need. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>[August 1st, 2013 (day 5), ~9:45pm, 853 miles]</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Great Easton. The penultimate control. We arrived as the last bit of light faded from the sky. This control had TONS of food spread out on the tables. Cookies, crackers, chips, snacks. They were serving the most phenomenal rice pudding at the counter, and fruit cocktail. How it is that I never realized how awesome rice pudding is on a brevet? No chewing, pleasant taste, fast carbs. Yes, please. And coffee, so so welcome as we prepared to make the final push.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As we rolled out, the sense of excitement was palpable. With the setting of the sun, the hot hot hot day turned into a wonderfully mild evening. I donned my vest for reflectivity but left it unzipped. We were all exhausted, but with just 28 miles to go, we were starting to smell the barn. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The LEL route designer, of course, didn’t want to make it *that* easy. This would be no simple 28 mile cruise. We were going to have to work for it. If there was a hill between Great Easton and Loughton, the course designer found it. And took us up and down each and every one of them. In the dark, on twisty narrow roads, I often felt like I was going round and round in circles. Lots of turns and I rarely saw a street sign. Truly, I don’t know how those without GPS were navigating through the maze of zigzaggy lanes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yet, somehow, we made it. As we pedalled down the final hill towards the finish, the gentlemen in the group pulled back and said “Ladies first”. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>[August 2nd, 2014 (ride day5), 1:00am, 881 miles]</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Exactly 114 hours after I left Loughton, I crossed the finish line.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2YBjLJnn-Qkc3DMHewefuKf3WfrtsvmS4Pz1hb_M23YvOEc3P7ws5TPXm4h7dHMwGfqNzUpXtAmpGTwpeTze_olCrzut5E3BhikWE5x3xEdslhzsLfWT618hKaceQlRYzbm26dhCv7js/s1600/IMG_4581.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2YBjLJnn-Qkc3DMHewefuKf3WfrtsvmS4Pz1hb_M23YvOEc3P7ws5TPXm4h7dHMwGfqNzUpXtAmpGTwpeTze_olCrzut5E3BhikWE5x3xEdslhzsLfWT618hKaceQlRYzbm26dhCv7js/s1600/IMG_4581.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Done. In so many ways.</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Day 5 and final stats:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Miles: 167 miles (881 cumulative)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Elevation gain: 4,728 feet (37,044 cumulative)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Elapsed time: 19:42 (114:00 cumulative)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Moving time: 14:44 (74:23 cumulative)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: blue;">Average speed: 11.3 mph (11.8 overall)</span></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Epilogue: </b> This ride was the culmination of a year's worth of training and preparation. It's no exaggeration to say its the hardest thing I've ever done, requiring me to dig deep into reserves I didn't even know I had. I am so grateful to so many of YOU, who shared training miles and/or words of encouragement over the past year, and during the ride when I was feeling pretty hopeless in those final miles. I'm especially indebted to Asta, Lynne, Theo, Michal, and Norm with whom many hours were shared turning over the pedals this past year. And Lesli, well what can I say about Lesli? The woman is a saint. Beyond all the training miles, she saw me through some pretty dark hours on this event, literally and figuratively. So lucky to have her as a friend and partner in rando-crime. Forever in her debt. And finally, there's Jeff. It would be harder to find someone more tolerant of all this rando nonsense. I've neglected all sorts of things this past year in pursuit of this goal, and he's been remarkably understanding, picking up an awful lot of slack. "thank you" is a wholly insufficient phrase, Jeff, but it's all I've got.</span></i></div>
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Susan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.com36tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3832125806355474162.post-23310075417909825502014-03-12T18:16:00.003-07:002014-03-12T18:16:59.016-07:00The Accidental ErrandonneurI never meant to be an Errandonneur.<br />
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I'm busy. I work long hours. I drive too much. Who has time to do 12 errands by bike in 12 days?? Not me. And so, I put it out of my mind.<br />
<br />
Or, so I thought.<br />
<br />
Yesterday was one of those days that those of us in the Pacific NorthWet dream of during the long cold wet dreary winters. Clear blue skies. Light breezes. Temperatures approaching *gasp* 60 degrees.<br />
<br />
I had a <a href="http://btaoregon.org/">Bicycle Transportation Alliance</a> board meeting in town to attend at 2pm. "Such a beautiful day", I thought. "I should ride my bike!" Still, the <a href="http://chasingmailboxes.com/2014/03/04/winter-challenge-the-errandonnee-2014-edition">Errandonnee Challenge</a> never crossed my mind. I was just looking for an excuse to ride.<br />
<br />
Off I went, up and over the West Hills, riding my fast bike, aptly named The TroubleMaker. 13.5 miles and 1,200 feet later, I burst into my meeting, 5 minutes late, more than a little sweaty, but grinning from ear to ear. <br />
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Two hours of meetings later, I decide to head over to the bike shop. My rear wheel has been making a funny creaking noise, so having the awesome guys at <a href="https://cyclepathnw.com/">Cyclepath</a> take a look seemed like a good idea. Since I was headed in that direction, Megan at the BTA asked me to ferry a bottle of beer over to Bill, the owner of Cyclepath, who is a wonderful BTA supporter. Thanks to Megan's request, I learned that a rather large bottle of beer fits into my water bottle cage. Good to know!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEL0iE0aCLggP1W5HvTEMyyEORI9pQwc5qyQelFQh5j0Mb6svlHeDOfLVpsWyohBQ5_-DTK_CLNPgc4DHZ4ctW3oT2Iwk6_to5npRtJkXej9mllcW-jq9cLBVZOnxeT82MKxJSWxyacgg/s1600/Sweetpea+and+beer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEL0iE0aCLggP1W5HvTEMyyEORI9pQwc5qyQelFQh5j0Mb6svlHeDOfLVpsWyohBQ5_-DTK_CLNPgc4DHZ4ctW3oT2Iwk6_to5npRtJkXej9mllcW-jq9cLBVZOnxeT82MKxJSWxyacgg/s1600/Sweetpea+and+beer.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweetpea outside the BTA office with adult beverage in the bottle cage!</td></tr>
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Off I went, over the Broadway Bridge and up Williams Avenue. Lost in the pleasure of spinning my legs, I completely missed my turn towards MLK Blvd. A mile or so later, I realized my error and turned around. Bonus miles!<br />
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The guys at the bike shop are super friendly. After explaining my issue, they quickly reproduced the creak in my fancy-pants <a href="http://www.zipp.com/wheels/404-clincher/">Zipp 404</a> PowerTap wheel. Over the next hour and a half, they tried everything they could think of. Swap the skewer. Still creaked. Swap the tube (could have been the valve rattling in the deep rim). Still creaked. Anything and everything that could be lubed, greased or cleaned was lubed, greased or cleaned, and the wheel still creaked. Once every rotation without fail.<br />
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And so I learned that even the experts get stumped sometimes! The bike will be going back to the shop for an overnight play date after the shop consults with Zipp and PowerTap.<br />
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Cycling buddy Asta lives near the shop, so I sent her a text to find out if she'd had dinner yet. Nope, she hadn't. She swung by, and we went off in search of a food cart pod where we could eat and not leave our bikes unattended. I don't let The TroubleMaker out of my sight! We ended up at the cart pod on 6th. The taco cart had a long line, but the soft tacos turned out to be sooooo worth it. Sadly I did not take a picture of the deliciousness. I was too busy inhaling it.<br />
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I learned that my definition of "medium hot" was clearly not the same as the owner's. Hooooo-WHEE that was HOT hot sauce! Yummers!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjslcJ98evYarbhwEt8lGFlHLmvr1YORoiaV3gN3l6-xpfLywAdLA5mfPx9PZcvAfqQfWnGGIdsUBeMLymONhp7swmTMgRcr-l9CFbnbgijJXq_P1AiTJniol1CJnkGUq_pQrR8yWzTyq0/s1600/Errandonneuring+1+map.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjslcJ98evYarbhwEt8lGFlHLmvr1YORoiaV3gN3l6-xpfLywAdLA5mfPx9PZcvAfqQfWnGGIdsUBeMLymONhp7swmTMgRcr-l9CFbnbgijJXq_P1AiTJniol1CJnkGUq_pQrR8yWzTyq0/s1600/Errandonneuring+1+map.png" height="223" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meandering around town, from BTA to bike shop to taco truck to MAX. From Strava.</td></tr>
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After dinner, I headed off towards the MAX train to take me back over the West Hills. I wouldn't have minded climbing back up and over, but it was dark now and much cooler. In my sunny weather enthusiasm, I'd failed to pack a jacket or long fingered gloved. While the climb would be fine, the descent on the other side would turn me into a popsicle!<br />
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The Hillsboro-bound train passed me as I approached the nearest station. Knowing I would miss it there, I instead raced across town towards the Goose Hollow station, confident that I could beat it there, thanks to all the stops it had to make in between. Sure I enough, I beat that train to Goose Hollow by a minute or so. Sweet!<br />
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Once off the train, it was a flat, easy 3 mile spin home.<br />
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But still, thoughts of errandonneuring had not crossed my mind. It wasn't until reading Mary's blog update today that I realized I'd spent most of yesterday being an Accidental Errandonneur!<br />
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So, 3 errands and 23.7 miles later, I guess I'm well on my way to errandonneuring success. Perhaps I'll go to the grocery store tonight....<br />
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Strava files:<br />
<a href="http://www.strava.com/activities/119891644">From home to the BTA meeting</a><br />
<a href="http://www.strava.com/activities/119891629">BTA to bike shop to dinner to train!</a><br />
<a href="http://www.strava.com/activities/119891626">From train to home</a><br />
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<br />Susan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3832125806355474162.post-86982332825379786102014-01-24T18:48:00.002-08:002014-01-24T18:51:58.190-08:00Proof of PassageRandonneurs are required to obtain "proof of passage" at certain points along a course. To facilitate this, we carry a control card. As the sport was created a long time ago, the permissible methods were determined to be a stamp or signature on the card, a receipt from a nearby business, or the answer to a pre-determined question (the answer to which could only be found by going to that location.)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A very long control card for a very long ride.</td></tr>
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The point, of course, is to prove that the rider did not short-cut the course. So, controls are placed in such a manner that the rider MUST ride from Point A to Point B along a specific path because to do otherwise would result in a rider missing a control and thereby being disqualified.<br />
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Being an old sport full of long and storied traditions, some folks are understandably reluctant to change or modernize any aspect of the rules. I understand that. I really do. But, the unfortunate side effect of that reluctance, however, is that it sometimes results in courses that have less than ideal routing. For example, if the shortest distance between two points is a busy road, a route designer might choose the busier road because the longer (but lower traffic) road might require one or more controls. Too many controls on a route become troublesome because the rider has to stop a lot. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwWcAUlcoBErHUI3R0qCaEvDJ7exUPb6B-OGZNat3K_qjOrB_J9eVEf8R1DMekEsSVd0vK41RMEP9SrO4lNNtil__Wbq3Wmu6EtOqUa9HKKv4c45Ede-6OIzqz7Fk0z9x2Tl88NeubHMg/s1600/info+control.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwWcAUlcoBErHUI3R0qCaEvDJ7exUPb6B-OGZNat3K_qjOrB_J9eVEf8R1DMekEsSVd0vK41RMEP9SrO4lNNtil__Wbq3Wmu6EtOqUa9HKKv4c45Ede-6OIzqz7Fk0z9x2Tl88NeubHMg/s1600/info+control.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Road signs like these make for great info controls!</td></tr>
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Similarly, a course might be unridable on certain days of the week or certain times of the day because the business at the control location is not open during those times. <br />
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I propose that we consider allowing the use of GPS tracks to provide proof of passage documentation. One of the arguments against this is that GPS tracks can be altered in Excel, allowing someone to cheat and fake a ride. Whenever this topic come us for discussion on our national rando email list, someone invariably chimes in with "the rules are the rules. If you don't like them, just go ride your bike."<br />
<br />
In fact, this topic came up for discussion again just this week. I decided to write out my thoughts in response (<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">in purple, below)</span>. First quoted is an excerpt from another list member, and then my response.<br />
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<i><span class="753114221-23012014">>></span> In the absence of a good
explaination (which was the essence of the question in my first post), I am left
to conclude there simply isn't any. Rules are rules. They have been handed
down to us and that's that. Simply accept them as they are and participate in
randonneuring, or don't. I realize this doesn't bother most of us, but it
bothers me for some reason. I guess I just like the world to make logical
sense<span class="753114221-23012014">.</span> </i><br />
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<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
quill pen and the mimeograph machine were handed down to us as well. Yet we no
longer use them. Instead these concepts were updated and refined into something
better, and the users of writing implements and duplicating machines are the
happier for it. </span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm
always somewhat bemused by this idea that there is no room for change or
innovation in randonneuring. Just because certain ideas or technologies did
not exist at the time randonneuring was "invented" doesn't mean that finding a
useful way to integrate these technologies into the sport is a bad thing. (And
HAD they existed at the time randonneuring was invented, I have no doubt
that our forefathers would have integrated them from the
start.)</span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cyclometers didn't exist when rando began, yet now we
obsess about cue sheets down to the tenth of a mile and riders are put out when
the cue sheet is not accurate to that degree and in agreement with their
cyclometers. Very few people ride without at least a cyclometer, and yet no
one is suggesting that these riders be disallowed the use of this convenient
"modern" technology.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because of the very small chance that someone might
spoof a GPS, the usefulness of this technology for documenting the completion of
a permanent route (or the arrival at a control) at a certain date and time is
disallowed for all, 99.999% of whom are honest, trustworthy individuals.
That's throwing out the baby with the bathwater, IMHO.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
use of a GPS file as proof of passage and completion within time limits is
deemed unacceptable documentation for something as "meaningless" as permanents
(meaningless because they qualify you for nothing other than distance awards).
Yet we accept as ironclad proof the scribbled notation of time and initials by a
random person on something as important as a PBP qualifying brevet card. The
logical conclusion then is that it's easier to spoof a GPS file than it is to
fake a pen scribble.... Or, perhaps not.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As a GPS track is *at least* as good documentation as
an incorrectly time-stamped receipt from a backcountry store, or the illegible
scribble from a random pen, I would suggest that we not consider it total rando
heresy to allow a permanent owner to choose to allow the track to be
valid documentation that a route was completed (or a control was reached) as
cued, on the date requested, and within the time
limits. </span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">-----</span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As
Norm pointed out, "all of the methods we currently employ to discourage
<cheating> are trivially easy to beat." I would therefore submit that
rather than spend so much time worrying about throwing up <ineffective>
roadblocks to thwart the 0.001% who might be tempted to cheat, that we instead
consider the ways in which we can fulfill RUSA's stated goals of, per the
website, "promoting randonneuring in the US" and "building a future for
randonneuring in the US that encourages member participation".
</span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
original poster (Chicken Sandwich) was looking for a way to create a route that
is available 24 hours a day. Documentation via GPS track would facilitate
this. Ergo, it's use encourages Chicken Sandwich to create the route and
encourages members to ride it. This should be considered A Good Thing, in
keeping with RUSA's stated goals.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I
recently had a permanent rider on one of my routes arrive at a control only to
discover that the only business at that location was closed (he got there before
the store opened for the day). He photographed himself with the store in the
background. He even stuck his watch (who wears one of THOSE anymore?) into the
photo. Strict adherence to RUSA's rules would suggest that I DNQ him because
he didn't provide the only "acceptable" control documentation, which was a
receipt he was unable to obtain. Would this have fulfilled the goal of
encouraging this member to continue to to participate in randonneuring? On the
contrary, I believe it would have been hugely DIScouraging to the rider. So, I
accepted his digital documentation. </span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We
have a local 200K permanent on a lovely route that, thanks to the many
opportunities for short cuts has no less than TEN information controls and
something like five timed controls. FIFTEEN CONTROLS on a 200K. Lovely route,
truly. But I've only ridden it once because stopping 15 times in 125 miles is
less than ideal. (I challenge you to keep your perm card dry while answering 10
info controls in the Pacific NorthWet. :-) ) So while the route certainly
discourages the potential 0.001% from cheating, I'd argue that the overwhelming
concern with cheating that requires 10 info controls, coupled with the
reluctance to accept more modern versions of proof of passage, is also serving
to discourage honest riders from riding the route as well.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">-----</span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">RUSA
is filled with bright minds, enthisiastic riders, and phenomenal volunteers
& leadership. I believe that as a community we can come up with methods to
update some of the archaic rules in ways that respect the long and storied
traditions of randonneuring, while encouraging new riders to become members, and
existing members to ride more often.</span></div>
<div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="753114221-23012014">Susan</span></span></div>
<br />
<br />Susan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3832125806355474162.post-21881747058809348262014-01-06T18:52:00.000-08:002014-01-08T09:24:04.773-08:00What Do Randonneurs Eat?<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjvL_C41IzW3wgXX3AS57fLeoAZUQ3i_QrIkAziadiWQBGjKbzwCzT9S3zTGfvhQPGN3y5cLPUTAKDGeateMXlmghHPaPqtee5bGVKiEWsVrT-UqsISpYzph2IeFjkw6HFMPJlqYzfY_E/s1600/feed+me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjvL_C41IzW3wgXX3AS57fLeoAZUQ3i_QrIkAziadiWQBGjKbzwCzT9S3zTGfvhQPGN3y5cLPUTAKDGeateMXlmghHPaPqtee5bGVKiEWsVrT-UqsISpYzph2IeFjkw6HFMPJlqYzfY_E/s1600/feed+me.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm always hungry....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are as many ways of approaching eating for rando
success as there are randos. When I
first started randonneuring, I would sometimes have challenges with nausea
and/or bloating on longer rides. That’s
mostly gone away, as I’ve learned what my stomach can and can not
tolerate. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQQbNLtNdiGsVPCWKk0Vz1TaVookwnJsfGgSWD0W3cp8GbYFD3B5PJvvNZ1q8Bik2PisRtbeub28t9w3tOUdHM5ylF2d8QTLFAzjlNOH7fTXovjDqMLiqDGFHLBNX2ECVNsk11G92rznk/s1600/bacon+peanut+butter+banana.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQQbNLtNdiGsVPCWKk0Vz1TaVookwnJsfGgSWD0W3cp8GbYFD3B5PJvvNZ1q8Bik2PisRtbeub28t9w3tOUdHM5ylF2d8QTLFAzjlNOH7fTXovjDqMLiqDGFHLBNX2ECVNsk11G92rznk/s1600/bacon+peanut+butter+banana.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For example, I CAN tolerate a peanut butter/banana/bacon "sandwich.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Still, I’ve never
specifically tracked my exact intake for a ride, nor tried to calculate the
nutritional value/caloric content of my intake.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Recently, I decided to
track everything from start to finish, including my pre-ride and post-ride
meals. Here’s the good, the bad and the
ugly…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pre-ride (~850 calories)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bowl of oatmeal with dried currants and maple syrup @ home<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Grande nonfat pumpkin spice latte from Starbucks enroute<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
During the ride, in no particular order:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(solids ~1700 calories)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1 banana<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1 package (1.375 oz) honey roasted peanuts<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1 Gu gel<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1 PayDay bar (1.85 oz)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1 Kashi Granola Bar (trail mix flavor)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3 tablets Perpetuem solids<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2 pieces “trail putty” (peanut butter/honey/powdered
milk/flaxmeal)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1 egg salad sandwich<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(liquids ~ 1100 calories)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3 bottles Perpetuem (café latte flavor)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2 canned Starbucks Doubleshots<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1 bottle water with a Nuun tab<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1 bottle plain water<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Post-ride @ the brewpub (~1400 calories)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
8oz hamburger with blue cheese and bacon on a kaiser roll<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
waffle fries<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pint of Stout<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Total caloric intake for the day: ~5,050.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnQ1G90xj8QS5uJeA3B3yj6TomcPYdv3YLbtlSv90e_CoUu_dOuIrvbjedfx7Y0-xyFv-sKF2WbMJ4086Jfp-dH_hIo5vfC-wnQqJkWlbYb7rNGUr3HZBXAkvY_dVPQNuhk12DeVi2yHY/s1600/recovery+beer+and+burger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnQ1G90xj8QS5uJeA3B3yj6TomcPYdv3YLbtlSv90e_CoUu_dOuIrvbjedfx7Y0-xyFv-sKF2WbMJ4086Jfp-dH_hIo5vfC-wnQqJkWlbYb7rNGUr3HZBXAkvY_dVPQNuhk12DeVi2yHY/s1600/recovery+beer+and+burger.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sign me up.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Estimated caloric burn (24 hr period):<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
9 hours turning the pedals at 400 calories per hour = 3600<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2 hours off the bike (controls, etc.) at 200 calories per
hour = 400<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
7 hours sleeping @ 50 calories/ hr = 350<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
6 hours (the rest of my day) simply living @ 100
calories/hour = 600<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Total estimated burn for the day ~ 4,950.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All the numbers are estimated but the consumption calories
are based on product labeling, etc. The
burn calories are based on testing I’ve had done in the past, plus online
calculators for averages of types of activity like sleeping etc.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was quite interested to see that when all was said and
done, the calories in and calories out worked out to be roughly the same. I’m sure there’s a reasonably large margin of
error to all my estimates, but nonetheless I was still surprised to see them
come out so close.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
********</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The thing about randonneuring is that you never know what you're going to find/forage, and sometimes you just have to be flexible.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you find yourself in a place like this at oh-dark-thirty,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVg9wFBpFx2qHYsbp932bok5jLBD9hP4kek0bgVyCrdEdNRVZVPQqX-sS4abAaLsWVT5IuK-1NhM6mPGkOA_syZUuGwZWNaDojXol409Y0DpCHrlUcXy0F4s_U3cErgEsOCvB3FCgSEM0/s1600/kwik+pik+market.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVg9wFBpFx2qHYsbp932bok5jLBD9hP4kek0bgVyCrdEdNRVZVPQqX-sS4abAaLsWVT5IuK-1NhM6mPGkOA_syZUuGwZWNaDojXol409Y0DpCHrlUcXy0F4s_U3cErgEsOCvB3FCgSEM0/s1600/kwik+pik+market.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
you'll need to be willing to eat whatever you can find that looks the least toxic, like this:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjefPVtCJrWbG65Q0df_2ZFLogiW01rTP_3VRCW3y-lIIRiMnDi8hRCv7WEG_f8GcTOSVhiMbA4VbeIKUjxQzrCG5vapCOf3yoix-oVruur-PBaHoaaTXtO1N-VcuRuSN3ku3OkB_41uuk/s1600/garbage+guts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjefPVtCJrWbG65Q0df_2ZFLogiW01rTP_3VRCW3y-lIIRiMnDi8hRCv7WEG_f8GcTOSVhiMbA4VbeIKUjxQzrCG5vapCOf3yoix-oVruur-PBaHoaaTXtO1N-VcuRuSN3ku3OkB_41uuk/s1600/garbage+guts.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On the other hand, you might luck into a wonderful donut shop or coffee shop!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTlRqJVzCeymKIxMh4otXrlgI7JfqP1ojlKb38sHVxq1M3iW47yAv1UO0j85ogcVoxewXDu4h_WRRDCXy8ZH_MpdqsDezsQ6PM1-KaTwHGj7USt5jw0LXQoQiJ_RqcsuQGCtrhRcHY-bI/s1600/joes+donut+shop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTlRqJVzCeymKIxMh4otXrlgI7JfqP1ojlKb38sHVxq1M3iW47yAv1UO0j85ogcVoxewXDu4h_WRRDCXy8ZH_MpdqsDezsQ6PM1-KaTwHGj7USt5jw0LXQoQiJ_RqcsuQGCtrhRcHY-bI/s1600/joes+donut+shop.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Try the bacon maple bars in Sandy, OR</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5stkT45e5PZLNpmpEtBkHDCq4L2QHKnYU_0XyirJqDlwg-4vVgJalavzocIhgp1KQsilDk_67cdeyfrUFF0JZSBxcJZjHLdMGFoYfYhd1IA8b2gjC7wdYvypX05DzjQQWHFKac93n1nY/s1600/coffee+and+cake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5stkT45e5PZLNpmpEtBkHDCq4L2QHKnYU_0XyirJqDlwg-4vVgJalavzocIhgp1KQsilDk_67cdeyfrUFF0JZSBxcJZjHLdMGFoYfYhd1IA8b2gjC7wdYvypX05DzjQQWHFKac93n1nY/s1600/coffee+and+cake.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coffee and pumpkin bread in Camas, WA</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNytlNb4LYrO2hQWR46OtfVAuU-HHBPalrYVWQK9GrJBCBIf_DE22H-1g_u0IqQS7em4ajzYo_rlD9J-qmqQAtF1FLFHe3Cag5jhDI9WFHKuHcj0ly76OSUn0j8nWBp7hWLhyphenhyphen7hyubVWg/s1600/rosies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNytlNb4LYrO2hQWR46OtfVAuU-HHBPalrYVWQK9GrJBCBIf_DE22H-1g_u0IqQS7em4ajzYo_rlD9J-qmqQAtF1FLFHe3Cag5jhDI9WFHKuHcj0ly76OSUn0j8nWBp7hWLhyphenhyphen7hyubVWg/s1600/rosies.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bagel sandwiches at Rosies in Mill City, OR.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
One of my favorite things about travelling to ride a brevet or perm is the chance to try the "regional delicacies" such as:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKmr4fXmlLzxpEiaOxSZ8IKdrIN63BvILbXg_TV1rqBQd1bPHls0r9wxDQjiOysUm-zX968Jf46Tge8JqqwY8LsX_w_5aOGQD_Vb8-mtgY_Dt9IjCe3Tywygp5f0bBdP7cnfFxgZBlk1g/s1600/mochi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKmr4fXmlLzxpEiaOxSZ8IKdrIN63BvILbXg_TV1rqBQd1bPHls0r9wxDQjiOysUm-zX968Jf46Tge8JqqwY8LsX_w_5aOGQD_Vb8-mtgY_Dt9IjCe3Tywygp5f0bBdP7cnfFxgZBlk1g/s1600/mochi.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hawaiian mochi</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKv0klTMeXLjVFQN30TAy_-_ATHpyWsJG1UuswHOSUstUJOy5p5Z8vmw4evqBSa6M8uuowvPXKPgx9kDS-yisVakklIY0VjiHuUWzGPqNtG5XeYM4Tt-9oLwVyelnz3qj1IL5amSuDgOQ/s1600/waffle+house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKv0klTMeXLjVFQN30TAy_-_ATHpyWsJG1UuswHOSUstUJOy5p5Z8vmw4evqBSa6M8uuowvPXKPgx9kDS-yisVakklIY0VjiHuUWzGPqNtG5XeYM4Tt-9oLwVyelnz3qj1IL5amSuDgOQ/s1600/waffle+house.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pecan waffles in Key West, FL<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCJJ9rTQQ23rsvaJWAGuVxjbWb0kSIh2nl_SSo1v2v_2WRfnWy0e58EGjRwW-4nNIXJogJ8C2jUzoHIBolXTEbLNTmuD-p48NHnWKoMwrMZPzCIbB2iDuDh4-6ZTzIVxkHvytmyVQaqqo/s1600/flapjacks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCJJ9rTQQ23rsvaJWAGuVxjbWb0kSIh2nl_SSo1v2v_2WRfnWy0e58EGjRwW-4nNIXJogJ8C2jUzoHIBolXTEbLNTmuD-p48NHnWKoMwrMZPzCIbB2iDuDh4-6ZTzIVxkHvytmyVQaqqo/s1600/flapjacks.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snack bars in the UK.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwYNFPOnnjeWcfs_nRJ6DaGQwn9-mG6tOkIzqGWMRLwANVldl2T2RrTUcakvLNSp7Q3uFIj_s9ZRZyDuasOvLNX9tINiHCfRLrKlTqp_tEquaD5bIkfp0YgqOg6mzEDqUHSRX4B6tTdYY/s1600/spam+musubi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwYNFPOnnjeWcfs_nRJ6DaGQwn9-mG6tOkIzqGWMRLwANVldl2T2RrTUcakvLNSp7Q3uFIj_s9ZRZyDuasOvLNX9tINiHCfRLrKlTqp_tEquaD5bIkfp0YgqOg6mzEDqUHSRX4B6tTdYY/s1600/spam+musubi.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spam musubi in Hawaii. Kickass rando food. Salt, carbs & fat. Yummers!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3JSQaZrvLziM1qnPC79kv66TwqV-KqHbl_JrycuWV0pQA2JRJeAHAFi572bKv6CL0JYiz26nSe3HyKb7YOZUO44l9U2aTevHYgzA5rnMeJ5VJdlXwdOEC_-nIA_dp-x1_3FBmLlsl-L0/s1600/beef.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3JSQaZrvLziM1qnPC79kv66TwqV-KqHbl_JrycuWV0pQA2JRJeAHAFi572bKv6CL0JYiz26nSe3HyKb7YOZUO44l9U2aTevHYgzA5rnMeJ5VJdlXwdOEC_-nIA_dp-x1_3FBmLlsl-L0/s1600/beef.jpg" height="320" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I didn't try the "Beef" in Arizona, though. Too bad.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
International events provide a great opportunity to try new foods as well. Sometimes good, sometimes somewhat less than appetizing.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq3C5nrAaMxAadZiRZ2Muo7WybFZ6ok0NR9PqsESX6MefC1SJ3zl_ESL2SmyMaP0QzJ0_jOuHHltNG6ogVl599nrajDhIMd49f01SkEoZVY3n8SnWE1JQGPiiGMtr9FkWzlNEkBoy0GtA/s1600/crepes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq3C5nrAaMxAadZiRZ2Muo7WybFZ6ok0NR9PqsESX6MefC1SJ3zl_ESL2SmyMaP0QzJ0_jOuHHltNG6ogVl599nrajDhIMd49f01SkEoZVY3n8SnWE1JQGPiiGMtr9FkWzlNEkBoy0GtA/s1600/crepes.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roadside crepes in France - PBP 2011</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_U60-5k0KpxkOlaTGMU0J0mFWpcbswEliTX1yI-SQOEn7j9lO9nvsVQNmHqP-0nfLLEdjVQp01Eqd4pb4i2Dm9FubSIzeMZWQhC5xei1cXQB-TTeByeOnm8ig681yICvkunIF7jbg9kI/s1600/fish+sticks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_U60-5k0KpxkOlaTGMU0J0mFWpcbswEliTX1yI-SQOEn7j9lO9nvsVQNmHqP-0nfLLEdjVQp01Eqd4pb4i2Dm9FubSIzeMZWQhC5xei1cXQB-TTeByeOnm8ig681yICvkunIF7jbg9kI/s1600/fish+sticks.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The biggest fish sticks in England? - LEL 2013</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQRLTnZSrLYepSgZvIge2YMcwbwX4SEhzQjNZORk3n2EG9rUCRS4NG1yiecboB6g_Sl1XSlKexLuH_AyTBW6ooJGvMp9dV5jmW7_UinhM2x1v5hPcl3pbp-SYt3qXST8BNfxKS53L9ENs/s1600/jeff+tilden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQRLTnZSrLYepSgZvIge2YMcwbwX4SEhzQjNZORk3n2EG9rUCRS4NG1yiecboB6g_Sl1XSlKexLuH_AyTBW6ooJGvMp9dV5jmW7_UinhM2x1v5hPcl3pbp-SYt3qXST8BNfxKS53L9ENs/s1600/jeff+tilden.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jeff Tilden demonstrates the ride-while-eating-baguette skill necessary for any successful completion of PBP.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiit8n889fS4XO8SoPkEW4YfIr0sUkaHGrYgbEwwcpIwP2fXwy9cWlXZNKmUFfta-ctp3P-_Z22fCQ7OtavCnJQqT3iTGaFJjjO8KAeAL8WoxFqUsgtAcID3-sPTuL72MDg4A4xfWn77w/s1600/kirton+food.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiit8n889fS4XO8SoPkEW4YfIr0sUkaHGrYgbEwwcpIwP2fXwy9cWlXZNKmUFfta-ctp3P-_Z22fCQ7OtavCnJQqT3iTGaFJjjO8KAeAL8WoxFqUsgtAcID3-sPTuL72MDg4A4xfWn77w/s1600/kirton+food.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Control food on LEL 2013. It tasted better than it looked, but just barely.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Breakfast food seems to make GREAT brevet food, no matter what time of day you eat it.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKBW1v2jY1inugmhHjO8RSd0XeQfXUMiFo-IHcYqgz8uNxD-HNGt-rf6GetPLh1yNxOf-O3WxOAZ4H19aZrJVcwVmUSlMXq0SD8zM9UwCFdemtZTxkMYnGLCW0bXLuV4kK1j8seFJ743I/s1600/dennys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKBW1v2jY1inugmhHjO8RSd0XeQfXUMiFo-IHcYqgz8uNxD-HNGt-rf6GetPLh1yNxOf-O3WxOAZ4H19aZrJVcwVmUSlMXq0SD8zM9UwCFdemtZTxkMYnGLCW0bXLuV4kK1j8seFJ743I/s1600/dennys.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Denny's in Arlington, WA</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPBWAyl4n7rA204oRhMleHLysti7WDxFzi-CDTzpk8iBxzkUUcAcp9xbh3GHodhAFQvfqrFNpbYgkXPclmxDnJayLcvbdLdJSaom4TK-ly7zhpI3FDNN5QMg02-uDgTupvCgH43nRlkqU/s1600/fleche+at+red+shack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPBWAyl4n7rA204oRhMleHLysti7WDxFzi-CDTzpk8iBxzkUUcAcp9xbh3GHodhAFQvfqrFNpbYgkXPclmxDnJayLcvbdLdJSaom4TK-ly7zhpI3FDNN5QMg02-uDgTupvCgH43nRlkqU/s1600/fleche+at+red+shack.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Omelettes at the Little Red Barn in WA - Fleche NW 2013</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Of course, sometimes you're just too damn tired to eat the food, even when you know you need it.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifTbtzSHlktvlGjWE-J_KEaxBykTrXROy7NR-d8eTL1h2lvhEO-eROATn880m1h_XlIauVWsdvoX19dRpF_q3PAeSdNkBUwdWW5I-tJNRvbvTabHvX2C_wWSJkO5OCSKrvOvYU_WbKhyI/s1600/napping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifTbtzSHlktvlGjWE-J_KEaxBykTrXROy7NR-d8eTL1h2lvhEO-eROATn880m1h_XlIauVWsdvoX19dRpF_q3PAeSdNkBUwdWW5I-tJNRvbvTabHvX2C_wWSJkO5OCSKrvOvYU_WbKhyI/s1600/napping.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fleche power nap</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0njT-eV9snOlWaLJn85gUmXQ9avErE8LxPvxemfi_3CeRFC3JIjBmnABrbZqPSBxIEYsN7sbPdXLjWy5qdIVTCMK5j0EHQQCw-OTbvAXHpPNYEK4zzxe5UilN9dhc1cPAxQWuiXbBz3g/s1600/dreux.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0njT-eV9snOlWaLJn85gUmXQ9avErE8LxPvxemfi_3CeRFC3JIjBmnABrbZqPSBxIEYsN7sbPdXLjWy5qdIVTCMK5j0EHQQCw-OTbvAXHpPNYEK4zzxe5UilN9dhc1cPAxQWuiXbBz3g/s1600/dreux.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Table nap. Dreux control. PBP 2011.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEdVVe_gpD_lnLDiEyqoEV5Oie8x7UiHXfFRgFuC7ieZNU6ezaPq0HppdITqL4qTcWE3NHNIoMjqsRibv6nMiUzxIIoxYZjyYnQH8rX2o23ea8jeNe-03FNDF-q4DbzUTsHWCVKUK1jlM/s1600/too+tired+to+eat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEdVVe_gpD_lnLDiEyqoEV5Oie8x7UiHXfFRgFuC7ieZNU6ezaPq0HppdITqL4qTcWE3NHNIoMjqsRibv6nMiUzxIIoxYZjyYnQH8rX2o23ea8jeNe-03FNDF-q4DbzUTsHWCVKUK1jlM/s1600/too+tired+to+eat.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wakey, wakey. Your food is here!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Of course, the best part of a brevet, is the celebration with adult beverages and good friends.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWnafEnt6FwAGRMes1DhjWdmkApKVBVofSjL-OngDdpdtuULUMm2tMBpPh0AihjINNNIjOf4QVq-JkV8fobUA1lhnorBtJXrNj4qwKsMe0U7jNBW-YT29L-0CYi8H9eaZJ-yf0TJCRKrY/s1600/beer+with+Lesli+&+Theo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWnafEnt6FwAGRMes1DhjWdmkApKVBVofSjL-OngDdpdtuULUMm2tMBpPh0AihjINNNIjOf4QVq-JkV8fobUA1lhnorBtJXrNj4qwKsMe0U7jNBW-YT29L-0CYi8H9eaZJ-yf0TJCRKrY/s1600/beer+with+Lesli+&+Theo.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cidre in Eugene, Oregon with Theo & Lesli</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6yvdFtBkfzqoX8NQ3VkG0Awil_vfKfJq96cMg1FJb8sc4FpFwrwYb21awbbbCyoiFB8WdzH45mkfygLIc0Y17WPD5KvS9w29Xzv7Ox-0eRY-olAZzHTqYjB1d7qw1aTQe530Mwy4w8MY/s1600/gin+and+tonics.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6yvdFtBkfzqoX8NQ3VkG0Awil_vfKfJq96cMg1FJb8sc4FpFwrwYb21awbbbCyoiFB8WdzH45mkfygLIc0Y17WPD5KvS9w29Xzv7Ox-0eRY-olAZzHTqYjB1d7qw1aTQe530Mwy4w8MY/s1600/gin+and+tonics.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Curbside Gin & Tonics, courtesy of Theo, to celebrate the successful completion of the ORR Spring 2013 600K, aka The Hillpocalypse 600K</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Wishing you many happy miles and many happy meals!<br />
<br />
-SusanSusan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3832125806355474162.post-90357906492424187552013-11-24T23:42:00.002-08:002013-11-24T23:45:58.115-08:00Coffeeneuring #7: Coffeeshop Without Walls - Sunday, November 3rdMichael W's wife Allison purchased a <a href="http://www.chemexcoffeemaker.com/">Chemex coffee maker</a> for Michael's most recent birthday. With the two of them having an infant at home, getting out for coffeeneuring can be a challenge. So Michael invited a small group of us over to his home for a "Without Walls" coffeeneuring adventure!<br />
<br />
I rode my bike over to Beaverton with the intent to take the MAX over the hill and meet Bill in town for the ride to Michael's. The trees are still a riot of color.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtMMspxMbxw4AXQTcF363PjYo1zHW6-aneaVg0spuNh6ZBjqc1tSnoaXY5pRaSPfDB91SkQseAyaZTuZShDLniGFikhKEsXGBZ5iDZ4VEiQ-EG5AS3LhycIZttmRwqLyW7cvSqZsmxHdE/s1600/IMG_5550.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtMMspxMbxw4AXQTcF363PjYo1zHW6-aneaVg0spuNh6ZBjqc1tSnoaXY5pRaSPfDB91SkQseAyaZTuZShDLniGFikhKEsXGBZ5iDZ4VEiQ-EG5AS3LhycIZttmRwqLyW7cvSqZsmxHdE/s400/IMG_5550.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the way to Beaverton</td></tr>
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<br />
Upon getting to Beaverton, I realized that I was early. Very very early. As in spring-ahead-fall-behind kind of early. Yup, the clocks had changed and I was an hour ahead of time.<br />
<br />
What else to do but have a pre-coffee coffee?! I popped into <a href="http://edgegoodcoffee.com/">Edge Coffee</a> and had a latte while I killed time. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwLiw9lcz7ll3TulMtFixqa0pMIcLAm5YAWzoBmNQKo7bv4IgkF_aDoc1sfN99yj6usFrsJ__YYsfoGnkI6wTRQjmH00pnLw13xUo6saMQw_Qz-HTYXCWzLmpAzO1S3gE6SzqBu7LWJ-A/s1600/IMG_5556.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwLiw9lcz7ll3TulMtFixqa0pMIcLAm5YAWzoBmNQKo7bv4IgkF_aDoc1sfN99yj6usFrsJ__YYsfoGnkI6wTRQjmH00pnLw13xUo6saMQw_Qz-HTYXCWzLmpAzO1S3gE6SzqBu7LWJ-A/s400/IMG_5556.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Showing off my LEL vest.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsflrBIKSpUErvctr2VRpMyh6cFPsQEs0tZhLjfWZxdVXJcJApA1TiOUpz8pyq6ICA8WYav0nsAdDHqKRu7hlAa6Pzr46OXRBwI1hwnPwdJ_jrLFgB3z5Uai5WIO0AcPSGlvVdFfQslMA/s1600/IMG_5558.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsflrBIKSpUErvctr2VRpMyh6cFPsQEs0tZhLjfWZxdVXJcJApA1TiOUpz8pyq6ICA8WYav0nsAdDHqKRu7hlAa6Pzr46OXRBwI1hwnPwdJ_jrLFgB3z5Uai5WIO0AcPSGlvVdFfQslMA/s400/IMG_5558.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Edge gets it.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Eventually I met Bill & we rode over to Micheal's house. Micheal explained to us his process for roasting beans with a popcorn popper!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih-zB5a_5KGgkxO9QJVOHPETQEDXZF_SsD8TMM50IldTpgkFOFduP6Ut89IFl6osnpny6PrMEuZNS3HEovYUGL4gjAlDh5O1c84asWwekzFyb9OrJHuk9ZLyyudH9qSg-HD9V4OtFtQL0/s1600/IMG_5560.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih-zB5a_5KGgkxO9QJVOHPETQEDXZF_SsD8TMM50IldTpgkFOFduP6Ut89IFl6osnpny6PrMEuZNS3HEovYUGL4gjAlDh5O1c84asWwekzFyb9OrJHuk9ZLyyudH9qSg-HD9V4OtFtQL0/s320/IMG_5560.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Green beans</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn-SydOCVjh2OXdmfz46M9-hXRR4tGLkzea3jL4SeRlgCVYFLERnCTzEVAzrYKf-5q0fWn4VTxx44tQ4a8GRHXP34zXmnDbkt6Iqrm8Ag57tikzD6wp-IIM6klvGyT65f45OUSdP6xVSI/s1600/IMG_5567.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn-SydOCVjh2OXdmfz46M9-hXRR4tGLkzea3jL4SeRlgCVYFLERnCTzEVAzrYKf-5q0fWn4VTxx44tQ4a8GRHXP34zXmnDbkt6Iqrm8Ag57tikzD6wp-IIM6klvGyT65f45OUSdP6xVSI/s400/IMG_5567.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The secret roasting equipment</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiraLhtaw9rdhyimimiHiFKM8CBSfPUav32FKUTRHPWL-C1pAJt49W7nCapqn8h7X1kzY9JMVifEwfDVZD9WDF8aqt4OioBXxEMInkkncUDsjIn1zQphvPCSEDQR2qnzhggu_c5n05-JoE/s1600/IMG_5562.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiraLhtaw9rdhyimimiHiFKM8CBSfPUav32FKUTRHPWL-C1pAJt49W7nCapqn8h7X1kzY9JMVifEwfDVZD9WDF8aqt4OioBXxEMInkkncUDsjIn1zQphvPCSEDQR2qnzhggu_c5n05-JoE/s400/IMG_5562.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Birthday Chemex</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs4FRMFzLbLiXcbYh6UzZQO_ucsxin2ppYGRvTpx387ff143N4eAaWRbeP7RzDDPkyyUQ9NBD7in4UQj4iFyhaOzDqR_wDF6qjBfplFNyQLRVDvvyVQRF49Nn0-_0PgWnLIH_BYmMpzBA/s1600/2013-11-03+coffee2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs4FRMFzLbLiXcbYh6UzZQO_ucsxin2ppYGRvTpx387ff143N4eAaWRbeP7RzDDPkyyUQ9NBD7in4UQj4iFyhaOzDqR_wDF6qjBfplFNyQLRVDvvyVQRF49Nn0-_0PgWnLIH_BYmMpzBA/s400/2013-11-03+coffee2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bikes and coffee. Photo courtesy of Bill Alsup.</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The family is gluten free and Allison has a keen interest in gluten free baking. I brought over some gluten free banana muffins I'd made the night before, and we had a long conversation about the keys to GF baked goods.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_kzdnx7q8YBVOxd6DHgErVAkSml6JSJJJUtweUO_VEpHENEF4N_VMcirIeLApy00JUJLBi-E6XSKFsUU3M2DlgNTAfeXdtwZPX00sfVXxTB2cyvekAosYGYixgKSy6cMYAEeR37Hf-xM/s1600/IMG_5563.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_kzdnx7q8YBVOxd6DHgErVAkSml6JSJJJUtweUO_VEpHENEF4N_VMcirIeLApy00JUJLBi-E6XSKFsUU3M2DlgNTAfeXdtwZPX00sfVXxTB2cyvekAosYGYixgKSy6cMYAEeR37Hf-xM/s320/IMG_5563.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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And of course, we spent a fair bit of time admiring the newest member of the family, Miss Marjorie!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSXaVOdzkAlCUMz-D63m3MDi_gC36K9c6Mw0QQmD2D1fUMHRrwpBJYRcAN93KnWeqCSXuaRRKLBqWRKhWQLcv80EbSqEo3vjN-P8bK9W06L9RioaoFrAtY1dpydapBvYVfVVgQAekQSZs/s1600/IMG_5568.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSXaVOdzkAlCUMz-D63m3MDi_gC36K9c6Mw0QQmD2D1fUMHRrwpBJYRcAN93KnWeqCSXuaRRKLBqWRKhWQLcv80EbSqEo3vjN-P8bK9W06L9RioaoFrAtY1dpydapBvYVfVVgQAekQSZs/s400/IMG_5568.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Someone finally woke up!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH4KjXLCU1-M92lgyOad_F76FJGcvZwdNhN4C2SemGJgqmHfAXNEjPb2dUCzxppFp40I2-OpkSiq-hJtgLUzi33n4yYVIHaNT-yL2t6zb3gTrw_1pCfxyBKl3RwJa-ZsylIgNAwVRuYGQ/s1600/2013-11-03+coffee.jpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH4KjXLCU1-M92lgyOad_F76FJGcvZwdNhN4C2SemGJgqmHfAXNEjPb2dUCzxppFp40I2-OpkSiq-hJtgLUzi33n4yYVIHaNT-yL2t6zb3gTrw_1pCfxyBKl3RwJa-ZsylIgNAwVRuYGQ/s400/2013-11-03+coffee.jpg.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of Bill Alsup</td></tr>
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<div>
Roundtrip miles for the day: 20.8<br />
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Total coffee mile for the challenge: 296.1</div>
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Susan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3832125806355474162.post-55295634610003309272013-11-24T23:19:00.001-08:002013-11-24T23:19:21.361-08:00Coffeeneuring # 6: Bridge of the Gods - Sunday, October 27thYesterday's <a href="http://susanotcenas.blogspot.com/2013/11/coffeneuring-5-coffee-with-calvin.html">coffeeneuring ride with Calvin</a> featured Oregon's rural countryside. For today's ride, I wanted to show him some very different terrain. We decided to do the Bridge of the Gods Loop.<div>
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My partner Jeff and I picked up Calvin in our car for the drive out to Troutdale. Kevin met us there. <div>
While one can start a BOG loop pretty much anywhere, the "traditional" ride start is at<a href="http://www.mcmenamins.com/54-edgefield-home"> McMenamin's Edgefield</a>, where there is ample parking and, more importantly, ample beer in the pub at the conclusion of the ride!</div>
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The weather was crappy but our spirits were high as we set out. The bike path along the Columbia River is always beautiful.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8toKWxw0w_YI_ijZeevmXnytdiHVC6ZXXn-e5g-OM84VT5RZgXvT0o4eUfgjIURgasZ3xBJ-y3ybgXFPnNFOaGtqpzOXyUWzcrxmNWfQLhxtEutB9y1ThUU5GYJj_Qd_tl3sfBTG0HU8/s1600/2013-10-27+BOG+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8toKWxw0w_YI_ijZeevmXnytdiHVC6ZXXn-e5g-OM84VT5RZgXvT0o4eUfgjIURgasZ3xBJ-y3ybgXFPnNFOaGtqpzOXyUWzcrxmNWfQLhxtEutB9y1ThUU5GYJj_Qd_tl3sfBTG0HU8/s400/2013-10-27+BOG+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marine Drive Bike Path. Photo courtesy of Calvin Boo.</td></tr>
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Crossing the I205 Bridge into Washington State is noisy and nearly all uphill, but at least there's a nifty bike path right down the middle.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG3leNCE5WqJU9ncaaOFuOFmC8fyyervy3A_DEUK6ShfYsWi4Vjurdk1LELrn3oswY0ycbkRTvzLmDpURN6U6gIz7pKnAr_G36btjoX_OgIVC_8-2g5zEm55AKsp9nEioIfi39u_fSKco/s1600/2013-10-27+BOG+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG3leNCE5WqJU9ncaaOFuOFmC8fyyervy3A_DEUK6ShfYsWi4Vjurdk1LELrn3oswY0ycbkRTvzLmDpURN6U6gIz7pKnAr_G36btjoX_OgIVC_8-2g5zEm55AKsp9nEioIfi39u_fSKco/s400/2013-10-27+BOG+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jeff crosses the I205 Bridge. Photo courtesy of Calvin Boo.</td></tr>
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With all the rain, we were looking forward to our coffeeneuring spot. The <a href="http://www.myownsweetthyme.com/2009/02/caffe-piccolo-paradiso.html">Caffe Piccolo Paradiso</a> at mile 20 in Camas was perfect. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb2JKIvRaXsp87VUWat6Fu-WeEnELWTR7RFrbEOVIp8hM51vFa1K2RULhEbFWW2gJErUXZIVJ9hm1w2yuiW_an6wJe5-4G-Y9dYj_XXXpZ-5WyHs_Agx05dqLldrG9sfHZnz-tCn8GfA4/s1600/IMG_5484.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb2JKIvRaXsp87VUWat6Fu-WeEnELWTR7RFrbEOVIp8hM51vFa1K2RULhEbFWW2gJErUXZIVJ9hm1w2yuiW_an6wJe5-4G-Y9dYj_XXXpZ-5WyHs_Agx05dqLldrG9sfHZnz-tCn8GfA4/s400/IMG_5484.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blurry photo, apropos of the rainy day!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA2Y4SH5LNddz5PVr1-g_90jczo0oLxYyG64VINruda2i434e-tUP0t839amGncj4TqRwxvop2vZUg1Sv9nkAlvTBrtS1AZbQAwxkczPr6E9KnhrZETPLXlheob5hMUpnBHaX6YlvhNuk/s1600/IMG_5490.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA2Y4SH5LNddz5PVr1-g_90jczo0oLxYyG64VINruda2i434e-tUP0t839amGncj4TqRwxvop2vZUg1Sv9nkAlvTBrtS1AZbQAwxkczPr6E9KnhrZETPLXlheob5hMUpnBHaX6YlvhNuk/s400/IMG_5490.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Obligatory bike shot</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2NgBjVWMvNMsup-frTKr8KQ18uPb2ZLrUuiRkL-6W6SaACPgVEcnP_etCvhXm1TN_kTo7hc_ZFxZWuR2sRz487g9KBTv_4QRf0QRrm-xhdqH9FSPnmHxikj5sY4XyuMullzGd344ExC8/s1600/IMG_5491.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2NgBjVWMvNMsup-frTKr8KQ18uPb2ZLrUuiRkL-6W6SaACPgVEcnP_etCvhXm1TN_kTo7hc_ZFxZWuR2sRz487g9KBTv_4QRf0QRrm-xhdqH9FSPnmHxikj5sY4XyuMullzGd344ExC8/s400/IMG_5491.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breakfast or dessert?</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh69_5FrdqsSFsEAFB6F6FchoC8CkiQtjTcuLLOQB_3Xzy66tLMs9a0l_u3UfbBThdRjWRU0PCo6VNARp68H3qMRmSziiezpxZ5GHD3pb6ael0cd2ktf23qyMKTAhTlU9FKfoqaOqSb5bw/s1600/IMG_5492.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh69_5FrdqsSFsEAFB6F6FchoC8CkiQtjTcuLLOQB_3Xzy66tLMs9a0l_u3UfbBThdRjWRU0PCo6VNARp68H3qMRmSziiezpxZ5GHD3pb6ael0cd2ktf23qyMKTAhTlU9FKfoqaOqSb5bw/s400/IMG_5492.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vanilla Latte & Pumpkin Bread</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm4TDyPwqhh3bDPSWaVadNm2dHqAgNstV8ds4jvgd3FCoVfhKCyMmGhsUd2OohiiIzlHsgsjADlhiWDNPOcsdGKN7Trc7w8RrqLy2q3ECFcKs2JepZfSaVIAMEz0MDWsPuTcRZsRuCKWY/s1600/2013-10-27+BOG+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm4TDyPwqhh3bDPSWaVadNm2dHqAgNstV8ds4jvgd3FCoVfhKCyMmGhsUd2OohiiIzlHsgsjADlhiWDNPOcsdGKN7Trc7w8RrqLy2q3ECFcKs2JepZfSaVIAMEz0MDWsPuTcRZsRuCKWY/s400/2013-10-27+BOG+3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My riding buddies are kinda cute, doncha think? Photo courtesy of Calvin Boo.</td></tr>
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Sadly, we couldn't stay warm & cozy in the cafe, so we headed out into the rain.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFR8Gw7WEmuaHQ_5afOlWxEbD5l_UgUleUxvrIIfkNErmd_lvA-dOQfYNDZavfmca_ARwqQYOUpJd0oj8NkoNLvgWdN4kkmiNl_fbSArIuNUPJUgJXbBRWnLSgPwRxw63UTybm-IZchSM/s1600/2013-10-27+BOG+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFR8Gw7WEmuaHQ_5afOlWxEbD5l_UgUleUxvrIIfkNErmd_lvA-dOQfYNDZavfmca_ARwqQYOUpJd0oj8NkoNLvgWdN4kkmiNl_fbSArIuNUPJUgJXbBRWnLSgPwRxw63UTybm-IZchSM/s400/2013-10-27+BOG+4.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Start of the climb up Hwy 14. Photo courtesy of Calvin Boo</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgehU74hryliWWTUJH5YLbP14APjIuj3asqgTCma0M2VI4-YXKuc2YuOXC2XyA30uWin9UKaUSkqSYR9MQJ167LUQVWRsmlJpmQ8VSuFhRQS0oZDljq0v6NtfG1WNSuvBBAyGyHL3m__h4/s1600/2013-10-27+BOG+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgehU74hryliWWTUJH5YLbP14APjIuj3asqgTCma0M2VI4-YXKuc2YuOXC2XyA30uWin9UKaUSkqSYR9MQJ167LUQVWRsmlJpmQ8VSuFhRQS0oZDljq0v6NtfG1WNSuvBBAyGyHL3m__h4/s400/2013-10-27+BOG+5.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lots of mist and rain. Pretty in it's own way. Photo courtesy of Calvin Boo</td></tr>
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At the ride's mid-point, we crossed back into Oregon via the Bridge of the Gods. The nice folks in the jeep in front of us paid our tolls!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPL3LklBLSZtZtnMuM9XnwTJQi_a8-3VUpuALEpAMBKyK2jU_rWN-mc96Kn8nevulh5OlBfiGqXkOpsg6VIP27mU4ILvVvkFpB2c2mUSEkNdCyPef-mv0dvrZsKABL65bgNWbKrV4p3Rs/s1600/2013-10-27+BOG+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPL3LklBLSZtZtnMuM9XnwTJQi_a8-3VUpuALEpAMBKyK2jU_rWN-mc96Kn8nevulh5OlBfiGqXkOpsg6VIP27mU4ILvVvkFpB2c2mUSEkNdCyPef-mv0dvrZsKABL65bgNWbKrV4p3Rs/s400/2013-10-27+BOG+6.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bridge of the Gods. Photo courtesy of Calvin Boo</td></tr>
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<br />We had a sit-down lunch in the Charburger. Window seat with great views of the bridge!<div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKxOktZ8o7p3Z9AMLa59bdqiznsrCOqi_Z8MxiBZXczxEtBNivSLL9CzE1JmZJVOH4keMVh1PDNKaJUQwuFGdSjM9iIIYEw9aSZMj_4ZNmH7A2T43FaH8D9RH6NSbj1M3MDdKU0Bbw1sI/s1600/2013-10-27+BOG+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKxOktZ8o7p3Z9AMLa59bdqiznsrCOqi_Z8MxiBZXczxEtBNivSLL9CzE1JmZJVOH4keMVh1PDNKaJUQwuFGdSjM9iIIYEw9aSZMj_4ZNmH7A2T43FaH8D9RH6NSbj1M3MDdKU0Bbw1sI/s400/2013-10-27+BOG+7.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of Calvin Boo</td></tr>
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It's been pointed out to me that we sure do eat a lot of food on these rides. Yes, yes we do.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghghMHzur4Ie7IH_LxZChVmIkzU3w51X214oYwkjk7e9S-Wq7b0XnrXPXPQQugjGDFkZXo4HI37khgIDVokHAh3xq_k1wM7YRLxoXlOyyP4lH2Adqe4SnH30nIr5SpoUmHtUHN3AlwK0A/s1600/IMG_5496.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghghMHzur4Ie7IH_LxZChVmIkzU3w51X214oYwkjk7e9S-Wq7b0XnrXPXPQQugjGDFkZXo4HI37khgIDVokHAh3xq_k1wM7YRLxoXlOyyP4lH2Adqe4SnH30nIr5SpoUmHtUHN3AlwK0A/s400/IMG_5496.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not going hungry.</td></tr>
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Leaving the Charburger, we found this fresh kill in the parking lot. Looks like this guy is going to be on someone's wall soon. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXdR9oXzqE8Yk1i_SPDVkDgtYolRA53oIU110FYfG5eq6BYSEQ07s9vr8RbxTKVBHSBn18FX48JFjtz2JJGZqJdmdh5ODRV4LRhT9im0f459YOmYvN7xIzkAzszaod1PhRJtIB7fuf0Vk/s1600/2013-10-27+BOG+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXdR9oXzqE8Yk1i_SPDVkDgtYolRA53oIU110FYfG5eq6BYSEQ07s9vr8RbxTKVBHSBn18FX48JFjtz2JJGZqJdmdh5ODRV4LRhT9im0f459YOmYvN7xIzkAzszaod1PhRJtIB7fuf0Vk/s400/2013-10-27+BOG+8.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of Calvin Boo</td></tr>
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<br />From Cascade Locks west to just before Multnomah Falls, we followed the historic Columbia River bike trail. More fairy tale forest.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSou6gNz4RTcOhCkAa_DN8wOKhyphenhypheniQ6SrlR8EInWx4tpJTvXJaXVDfS6uFhv_dz-uHZ1Ovdq4cTdoAxNQ-adnPZi-6XK-RwcJY1AT88eBfek8jgxRrV_gZeR-1T4dWfcC2KAwlPXIW9fOY/s1600/2013-10-27+BOG+9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSou6gNz4RTcOhCkAa_DN8wOKhyphenhypheniQ6SrlR8EInWx4tpJTvXJaXVDfS6uFhv_dz-uHZ1Ovdq4cTdoAxNQ-adnPZi-6XK-RwcJY1AT88eBfek8jgxRrV_gZeR-1T4dWfcC2KAwlPXIW9fOY/s400/2013-10-27+BOG+9.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of Calvin Boo</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7sup1BnEJhF-GLgpUEtszFPnydfWACwGHfaeXs__syNY1W3kQwIO37Vuy0DbGJ5mP_k0HBfsy42CjbyrsxITObqEcVrtrIWaK-fFRyEij2B-7myQ91H1rvwgRc2be1I35swEcb4u9j9g/s1600/2013-10-27+BOG+10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7sup1BnEJhF-GLgpUEtszFPnydfWACwGHfaeXs__syNY1W3kQwIO37Vuy0DbGJ5mP_k0HBfsy42CjbyrsxITObqEcVrtrIWaK-fFRyEij2B-7myQ91H1rvwgRc2be1I35swEcb4u9j9g/s400/2013-10-27+BOG+10.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You'd think they could have come up with a better solution here... Photo courtesy of Calvin Boo.</td></tr>
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Leaving the trail, we followed the Old Columbia River Hwy, passing many waterfalls along the way, including the ever-spectacular Multnomah Falls. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiLv2kk7qHxoZxCv24vZMEQMhgXzYdusZEvHlGctsRRobPgWEwk65buZVsABk3au8N6wRw1_5fkhkqXKwdvi1MO_Sea_GRV1SuK0UvKc2p9JuzQ-puVtSQLT2ZzQN5cchKoEOfZvbkBT0/s1600/IMG_5503.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiLv2kk7qHxoZxCv24vZMEQMhgXzYdusZEvHlGctsRRobPgWEwk65buZVsABk3au8N6wRw1_5fkhkqXKwdvi1MO_Sea_GRV1SuK0UvKc2p9JuzQ-puVtSQLT2ZzQN5cchKoEOfZvbkBT0/s400/IMG_5503.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Multnomah Falls</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinLpfJCqyaYKifep4_pcwlndYHa1J3SZjMev0xxxpZzpa9QiaqppMmvU6NzoQEhA3dCMzqjYlvO8mtuJocBExkhthGaARgH9YY1344bZ0fuqma8yqNd6DGIUGlD-UaynJLFM9-kvofH2w/s1600/IMG_5508.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinLpfJCqyaYKifep4_pcwlndYHa1J3SZjMev0xxxpZzpa9QiaqppMmvU6NzoQEhA3dCMzqjYlvO8mtuJocBExkhthGaARgH9YY1344bZ0fuqma8yqNd6DGIUGlD-UaynJLFM9-kvofH2w/s400/IMG_5508.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We climbed to the high bridge</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglRA-BBjo_cY60LhxAFS63CMnW9-W9jDBHLTTc_gpZUcZTIH5fYcfj3Cw8d0bOGxHGroei7JMYxjSig61EWoCVO1OPLR-9oJ_VSmVQZAVwerCePMpGjdBEP-_dqIYPb2FaF2Owkf0EYAc/s1600/IMG_5511.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglRA-BBjo_cY60LhxAFS63CMnW9-W9jDBHLTTc_gpZUcZTIH5fYcfj3Cw8d0bOGxHGroei7JMYxjSig61EWoCVO1OPLR-9oJ_VSmVQZAVwerCePMpGjdBEP-_dqIYPb2FaF2Owkf0EYAc/s400/IMG_5511.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you know where to look, you can see Jeff & Kevin!</td></tr>
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<br />After leaving the falls, the road climbs up to Crown Point, for one last killer view down to the Columbia River before the road heads back down to Troutdale.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixJPCxkcN0QF0_ZBZKh2ORrteCp5HYAcRlWW_3sJPnZVdvo2nMlDtbcsw_RFfSSp9KlQ-AT1XI-i9BgkLjl1XvaiyNQQS_WCE_iOLzWltb9N2sZ-j0azgeS7KxBQYx-vZf7d-qUWAmD6c/s1600/IMG_5514.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixJPCxkcN0QF0_ZBZKh2ORrteCp5HYAcRlWW_3sJPnZVdvo2nMlDtbcsw_RFfSSp9KlQ-AT1XI-i9BgkLjl1XvaiyNQQS_WCE_iOLzWltb9N2sZ-j0azgeS7KxBQYx-vZf7d-qUWAmD6c/s400/IMG_5514.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view of the river from Crown Point never gets old.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd73vvCzZ0dAMUVTWDcp3cWRflWY-7oWj4q81tfPwibKS1YAmBtIn3vjXaf0CbPWVuINm9TTFxmzu1B1GHcSzFChZXvFLFV6jRrT6Qbxf50ctJPikC2fCZeD8B1Hh1nTfmxXYAJh8I2H8/s1600/IMG_5519.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd73vvCzZ0dAMUVTWDcp3cWRflWY-7oWj4q81tfPwibKS1YAmBtIn3vjXaf0CbPWVuINm9TTFxmzu1B1GHcSzFChZXvFLFV6jRrT6Qbxf50ctJPikC2fCZeD8B1Hh1nTfmxXYAJh8I2H8/s320/IMG_5519.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fading daylight at Crown Point.</td></tr>
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Finally back at McMenamin's Edgefield, we had dinner and beer, a nice reward after nearly 82 miles, much of it in the rain.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibpuCE68Uxk1kndxWCIQRzcZ-eGf5ZGUBxnCYIHCMcr5XUnqG5n2Qe_IY0B_LHaaBhu3cOTZWl_d40rzxgvf2d2NSDh8qVSflBmTBYiwaM1Zi9tD8TGlhhxZz6B_EBQz6d7n23eVPUdZw/s1600/2013-10-27+BOG+11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibpuCE68Uxk1kndxWCIQRzcZ-eGf5ZGUBxnCYIHCMcr5XUnqG5n2Qe_IY0B_LHaaBhu3cOTZWl_d40rzxgvf2d2NSDh8qVSflBmTBYiwaM1Zi9tD8TGlhhxZz6B_EBQz6d7n23eVPUdZw/s400/2013-10-27+BOG+11.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of Calvin Boo</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXLvynoSZ55OoWc4Wl5sRf6aNEivR3kc5mPVDwSWpMlky0Jaz7rTw4yvYbHF1ZR5zHy-oyQj-i0KPqCEZXcZx68PfPEwejbF_qzMOusq-AfOUoHADHL47GmiSQuH152Os76GVgMzsB7_Y/s1600/IMG_5520.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXLvynoSZ55OoWc4Wl5sRf6aNEivR3kc5mPVDwSWpMlky0Jaz7rTw4yvYbHF1ZR5zHy-oyQj-i0KPqCEZXcZx68PfPEwejbF_qzMOusq-AfOUoHADHL47GmiSQuH152Os76GVgMzsB7_Y/s320/IMG_5520.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seriously creepy 3D artwork over our dinner table.</td></tr>
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<div>
Strava ride file here: <a href="http://www.strava.com/activities/91766356">http://www.strava.com/activities/91766356</a></div>
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Coffeeneuring mileage for the weekend: 159 miles! </div>
</div>
Susan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3832125806355474162.post-90400175056936686232013-11-24T22:18:00.002-08:002013-11-24T22:23:04.954-08:00Coffeeneuring #5: Coffee with Calvin - Saturday, October 26thThis summer, I rode my longest brevet to date. <a href="http://www.londonedinburghlondon.com/"> 1418km on London-Edinburgh-London</a>. Long before the event, the organizers started a <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/270220425749/">Facebook page</a> for people to meet and talk about the event. A real community developed, and by the time I reached the start line in July, I felt like I'd made many new friends.<br />
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One of those friends was Calvin Boo, a randonneur from Singapore. We never managed to meet face to face during the vent. But when he sent me a note in September letting me know that he was planning a visit in October, I didn't hesitate to offer to show him the beauty of Oregon by bike. Along the way, we could visit some far flung coffee shops for Coffeeneuring credit!<br />
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I met Calvin in town at the bike shop where he rented a very well equiped road bike. Rando friend Jeff A met us there, and together we boarded the MAX train to the last stop in Hillsboro. A 5 mile ride took us to North Plains, where we met up with Bill and Ray.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR9vrM8xEKkrKjyh6oww1YzNcb6vxn1jKEbjm5Wp-pGkTEp-gchPprOEfxF3nOqWzeasnDubEgr9OJkLjx8jM77CDP5q1xK5Tc03vIwVbC2NnoXwm_Fjk9R6mjjJvhyrCKkTNNchjE1HA/s1600/IMG_5423.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR9vrM8xEKkrKjyh6oww1YzNcb6vxn1jKEbjm5Wp-pGkTEp-gchPprOEfxF3nOqWzeasnDubEgr9OJkLjx8jM77CDP5q1xK5Tc03vIwVbC2NnoXwm_Fjk9R6mjjJvhyrCKkTNNchjE1HA/s400/IMG_5423.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A pre-coffeeneuring coffee on the way to pick up Calvin. Black, like the cup.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS5_GWgYofDHOOrPMOLqurNGGDI_8gmc1DKC5cGRrViAWq3KNc2pbf_D2R-6Or3SL5axLtQQLsveIBf36dS4zfQDEztE-5GVV_xmgPS1-F1zzCK5O-YyUi29Ghb6waYP40HzccptpP-AM/s1600/IMG_5426.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS5_GWgYofDHOOrPMOLqurNGGDI_8gmc1DKC5cGRrViAWq3KNc2pbf_D2R-6Or3SL5axLtQQLsveIBf36dS4zfQDEztE-5GVV_xmgPS1-F1zzCK5O-YyUi29Ghb6waYP40HzccptpP-AM/s400/IMG_5426.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Multi-modal coffeeneuring!</td></tr>
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Together, the 5 of us rode the quiet country roads to Banks and the start of the BV trail.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkssQ2_gSi8f9xj02ZmcsijVV9PnQ9Sg_8FXivF6KEyS64REhj5nn-vvVCH4NXtqtqpRm39mWsEbGkqN5Oo7s_D3gdEJOal_cpTc8-_hkgrWcgomfoZ0f1zTFV01JqXUrBG7J5D9f4sfw/s1600/IMG_5427.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkssQ2_gSi8f9xj02ZmcsijVV9PnQ9Sg_8FXivF6KEyS64REhj5nn-vvVCH4NXtqtqpRm39mWsEbGkqN5Oo7s_D3gdEJOal_cpTc8-_hkgrWcgomfoZ0f1zTFV01JqXUrBG7J5D9f4sfw/s400/IMG_5427.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">L to R: Bill, Jeff, Calvin, Ray and yours truly</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coffee posse.</td></tr>
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Calvin's pre-visit research had turned up the Banks-Vernonia Trail as a route he was interested in. Luckily, the BV Trail is one of my favorite rides. It's a gorgeous rail trail with few road crossings. No matter the time of year, it's like riding through fairy tale forest for much of the route. <br />
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Though it had been overcast much of the morning, I'd remained optimistic that the sun would come out. And so it did!<br />
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At the far terminus of the trail is Vernonia, with the<a href="https://www.facebook.com/TheBlackIronGrill?rf=154267257921584"> Black Bear Coffee Company</a>. Many NW rando rides use Vernonia as a control, and countless other recreational riders stop in there during day rides as well. It's a perfect coffeeneuring destination.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like turtles on a rock</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My usual non-fat vanilla latte.</td></tr>
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Before swinging around for the return trip home, we stopped at the park in Vernonia to look at the old train engine.<br />
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The sun was low on the horizon as we returned to the beginning of the trail. A few miles from home, Jeff escorted Calvin back to the MAX while I returned home.<br />
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Total mileage for the day: 77 miles (including trips to and from MAX)<br />
Primary Strava ride file here: <a href="http://www.strava.com/activities/91515773">http://www.strava.com/activities/91515773</a><br />
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<br />Susan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3832125806355474162.post-27006671009772500332013-11-24T21:45:00.000-08:002013-11-24T22:19:50.834-08:00Coffeeneuring # 4: Extreme Coffeeneuring - Saturday October 19thWe've been blessed with absolutely beautiful weather this fall. Sunny and dry, with the trees blazing a riot of orange, yellow and red. <br />
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Though I've been trying to reduce my riding miles while training for an <a href="http://www.napavalleymarathon.org/">early spring 2014 marathon</a>, the weather has made it nearly impossible to stay off my bike. And so it was that I plotted out a <a href="http://www.strava.com/activities/90484819">77 mile route</a> in pursuit of coffee and sunshine.<br />
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Lynne & Asta converged on my house at 8:15 or so, and together with Jeff, we headed out just before 9:00.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These kids are trouble...</td></tr>
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We meandered south through suburban neighborhoods, finally crossing the Urban Growth Boundary on River Road south of Hillsboro. Took the requisite photos of cute babies at the Northwest Alpaca Farm.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Too cute for words.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweetpea sparkles in the October sunshine.</td></tr>
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After roughly an hour of riding, we were ready for some snacks and coffee. <a href="http://southstorecafe.com/">South Store Cafe</a> in Scholls did not disappoint! <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitZAD512r58fGTvpGH-8uv5HGKga0SZZzSK7HVm6q5MBBvjGlWJ1_FBSdEZvpQ3M-XJ4AC0oBMNlc93r-vOV2Brtok5Soh2oo0EXtEnFSRZqfIyExWQNG7LXjGnWMHhY3j3X4QGjOvWPg/s1600/IMG_5308.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitZAD512r58fGTvpGH-8uv5HGKga0SZZzSK7HVm6q5MBBvjGlWJ1_FBSdEZvpQ3M-XJ4AC0oBMNlc93r-vOV2Brtok5Soh2oo0EXtEnFSRZqfIyExWQNG7LXjGnWMHhY3j3X4QGjOvWPg/s400/IMG_5308.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDuKFv8ucepvjMR8dofOMwbCwY20XSzUXQbf-OcCJP8SpyucTNfZqQ5Z3y9tiozxq6n3HdHe2rrlSLE5bCVFOdNpmSkDk-gQdvF-2cDhCj49VTH9MBibu91MFa8HGcKxW8JmH0ZaDzwtw/s1600/IMG_5327.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDuKFv8ucepvjMR8dofOMwbCwY20XSzUXQbf-OcCJP8SpyucTNfZqQ5Z3y9tiozxq6n3HdHe2rrlSLE5bCVFOdNpmSkDk-gQdvF-2cDhCj49VTH9MBibu91MFa8HGcKxW8JmH0ZaDzwtw/s400/IMG_5327.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yup, pretty sure we've come to the right place.</td></tr>
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The baker was a total character. "Don't bug me while I'm baking! Get it? 'Bug' me?!"<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAyzVJFHrWwh2e8JjGJsJNK8USOOCQ1Da7UacrRcBEglj535TclP7yeytGdmuM4dJ2U5_cO_vTawgcZQLl08IyZPUv84y3c-wz6iCQI8FsAdPPpTVyhXOcBoCkKa-KRB3nk9XLu-zjNZg/s1600/IMG_5313.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAyzVJFHrWwh2e8JjGJsJNK8USOOCQ1Da7UacrRcBEglj535TclP7yeytGdmuM4dJ2U5_cO_vTawgcZQLl08IyZPUv84y3c-wz6iCQI8FsAdPPpTVyhXOcBoCkKa-KRB3nk9XLu-zjNZg/s400/IMG_5313.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cookies the size of lunch plates. Which kind to choose??</td></tr>
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Jeff couldn't decide what to order, so he ordered lots.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYgMsELyp8H-Bq5ivwtj9ah5PBXfkPiDYHhWwTAeVi2rTu4CkImqAm6v6d-0B9HFGzoYGy5U1qTL5TDe7SHz-sUbyT8VLNHN8fNIBg9J7hHk5bn1Wo8eUPTl2p9OpCixBrxmT6knIj-Po/s1600/IMG_5323.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYgMsELyp8H-Bq5ivwtj9ah5PBXfkPiDYHhWwTAeVi2rTu4CkImqAm6v6d-0B9HFGzoYGy5U1qTL5TDe7SHz-sUbyT8VLNHN8fNIBg9J7hHk5bn1Wo8eUPTl2p9OpCixBrxmT6knIj-Po/s400/IMG_5323.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Round 1: Breakfast sandwich</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIcI1fSzngdqy3UhvfWLEBlv4Q8Z5gYHWKtXcgc_TbX4MBhGUkQFtByV_neYW7G9SNszOanlW0wuNiO9LWAksFMhUIDVLy_62XC9jyIn7CGDBJh9cWvXcxQCsBGx5hDtI50cjTHHw3dM8/s1600/IMG_5315.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIcI1fSzngdqy3UhvfWLEBlv4Q8Z5gYHWKtXcgc_TbX4MBhGUkQFtByV_neYW7G9SNszOanlW0wuNiO9LWAksFMhUIDVLy_62XC9jyIn7CGDBJh9cWvXcxQCsBGx5hDtI50cjTHHw3dM8/s400/IMG_5315.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Round 2: Peach Cobbler & Cookie</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXMdQeQWujcyjp2kZ0G4x1i17zKGlaRiuRfrqHtIHfEgs7hIK-wZ7YBHQw_-g_jFzrrzAPZzUdEhgdHTvp1GVcSlEj4ECia0z8sNq1CQhT-wd0UTQLBACVaGUJ0rBF0NK8f1EIXRCh49s/s1600/IMG_5316.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXMdQeQWujcyjp2kZ0G4x1i17zKGlaRiuRfrqHtIHfEgs7hIK-wZ7YBHQw_-g_jFzrrzAPZzUdEhgdHTvp1GVcSlEj4ECia0z8sNq1CQhT-wd0UTQLBACVaGUJ0rBF0NK8f1EIXRCh49s/s400/IMG_5316.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Asta goes for the Torta</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSRbkkSfKJDvhoY_bbE_IcNdv_yofjKy3Ffnn4ZrGuWazhyphenhyphen4I-2_78XqNwSW1YdYQ43KjQBJlBSn3e-A6OsYgtV3jISt_51O3CrFoY9GvTWTvGJV4fZO9i_Go9hKoeYHH0yE9_2DVzX08/s1600/IMG_5319.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSRbkkSfKJDvhoY_bbE_IcNdv_yofjKy3Ffnn4ZrGuWazhyphenhyphen4I-2_78XqNwSW1YdYQ43KjQBJlBSn3e-A6OsYgtV3jISt_51O3CrFoY9GvTWTvGJV4fZO9i_Go9hKoeYHH0yE9_2DVzX08/s400/IMG_5319.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Pumpkin Spice Latte</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisL8fFEo46TK8zfmJefZBu9rkkkxvVlxfe4hcdozZJcBl2Z6YvsATWB7ZoFHXNTU-GKJD_1d-uGwpvJ1Pur6vFpJIenOTmJKPupYGK2mpW87hMUm2DuKaD5IWhiaZw0AVkXpZGuPBmdFE/s1600/IMG_5322.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisL8fFEo46TK8zfmJefZBu9rkkkxvVlxfe4hcdozZJcBl2Z6YvsATWB7ZoFHXNTU-GKJD_1d-uGwpvJ1Pur6vFpJIenOTmJKPupYGK2mpW87hMUm2DuKaD5IWhiaZw0AVkXpZGuPBmdFE/s400/IMG_5322.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bonus pumpkin cookies!</td></tr>
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After (too) much eating and coffee drinking, we bought some cookies to go (well, duh...). Lynne turned towards home while the rest of us headed up and over the hill towards St. Paul, with a plan of getting a second cuppa at<a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Bankers-Cup/134846869901075"> The Banker's Cup.</a><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4MVTsqxPaGt4n4YCil1Wze6XN4IkP4OgGsFHQFIbel1WkKW4mXLDBYzhJ7uSuMleqtCmA9QFX8sDljYelA09CxpaX6IRiV0FXHh35lH2MLkU2uFII-W8eiNo6IkPHAOLz3mF9KG1zOkk/s1600/IMG_5329.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4MVTsqxPaGt4n4YCil1Wze6XN4IkP4OgGsFHQFIbel1WkKW4mXLDBYzhJ7uSuMleqtCmA9QFX8sDljYelA09CxpaX6IRiV0FXHh35lH2MLkU2uFII-W8eiNo6IkPHAOLz3mF9KG1zOkk/s400/IMG_5329.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading up hill the jacket came off real quick.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzkkCO-p1NNCIoZOVEZwrMkDygm-recLc5gJi-X56DPOU94C_N2S7J3xYcXFe2kRqYRT4NYwmQDS7rF1r4YgncZ1d3dMaIaZKpRVTmFYOkhS_nDKW0NpXblBKhUc4NDi04fD9SdOMHqvY/s1600/IMG_5332.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzkkCO-p1NNCIoZOVEZwrMkDygm-recLc5gJi-X56DPOU94C_N2S7J3xYcXFe2kRqYRT4NYwmQDS7rF1r4YgncZ1d3dMaIaZKpRVTmFYOkhS_nDKW0NpXblBKhUc4NDi04fD9SdOMHqvY/s400/IMG_5332.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Overexposed and sleeveless in the sunshine!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7qG3EVFjzE4uBcCaY-xOy37RQ2eZqY_DhNew1e5GBmgQbzFWTETELt3kIEXyS2saJjvS_8chXyxTOVM6pyXjsIOWiih9b_PoHJh09oxQdLlzKn6aZkTk3eF7cZgtPIyBYOeR0WCaIIz0/s1600/IMG_5338.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7qG3EVFjzE4uBcCaY-xOy37RQ2eZqY_DhNew1e5GBmgQbzFWTETELt3kIEXyS2saJjvS_8chXyxTOVM6pyXjsIOWiih9b_PoHJh09oxQdLlzKn6aZkTk3eF7cZgtPIyBYOeR0WCaIIz0/s400/IMG_5338.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look closely and you can spot Mt. Hood dead center.</td></tr>
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Along the way, we explored some new roads a bit off the beaten path that I wanted to scout for a possible future permanent. Found some gravel, but just for a short mile or so. Totally viable route, even on my skinny tires.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjegibdFqvs8RP9Avmn0MkmF_TlLmRCGfIfkxxgxHLnUcMR7KRky4Vm2H4otUbfVMmqJmN8okEchppmyURTikXSuS8G9KYWBH5CSfPabLl7sm51jSexj6T7PXB1j1S66dceOFnjjpwa1Gk/s1600/IMG_5342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjegibdFqvs8RP9Avmn0MkmF_TlLmRCGfIfkxxgxHLnUcMR7KRky4Vm2H4otUbfVMmqJmN8okEchppmyURTikXSuS8G9KYWBH5CSfPabLl7sm51jSexj6T7PXB1j1S66dceOFnjjpwa1Gk/s400/IMG_5342.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">NE Mountain Home Rd turns to gravel at the Yamhill County line.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4GcR5yd7D6eCMJ8osXhSno-ZxIpuCwTDaFuRu4Wi5TcKlLs6fK6AZR_ki2qExqEa1yM99Z6Ai_pM9AMPSJZKEnHnUFnYbtXoTtq0d1wTY0N6EPk3daq9RYX643vJc6xEsA7k-W5bG1nQ/s1600/IMG_5349.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4GcR5yd7D6eCMJ8osXhSno-ZxIpuCwTDaFuRu4Wi5TcKlLs6fK6AZR_ki2qExqEa1yM99Z6Ai_pM9AMPSJZKEnHnUFnYbtXoTtq0d1wTY0N6EPk3daq9RYX643vJc6xEsA7k-W5bG1nQ/s400/IMG_5349.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The pretty switchback up on Bell Rd.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiKCssXyMeOCxApAmRn24OHVdZgGh25fcj5yj8Z4tiFoFdZwAIA7p89HjvXKytK4KdHCGd-X-7Qt5ScE_jNSTcIu0bO-hvFHY1NH891SQ5F-rTmoH2jCNPz-lcFV6bwF_xl2a2Pc8Jxzc/s1600/IMG_5350.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiKCssXyMeOCxApAmRn24OHVdZgGh25fcj5yj8Z4tiFoFdZwAIA7p89HjvXKytK4KdHCGd-X-7Qt5ScE_jNSTcIu0bO-hvFHY1NH891SQ5F-rTmoH2jCNPz-lcFV6bwF_xl2a2Pc8Jxzc/s400/IMG_5350.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yard art</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRr48uidXxVroL3KBZEivnmDna4r0yj4NG9VK_PD8U8TsVr9TpxzQnyks-f3lIr_b8ORLDQ2d0Tkq86pk35LZogZmtN2GvigbGmLVnMhj9txiM7jVvOWemEZsC0vnrDlvSdLsuu1Q4iB8/s1600/IMG_5352.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRr48uidXxVroL3KBZEivnmDna4r0yj4NG9VK_PD8U8TsVr9TpxzQnyks-f3lIr_b8ORLDQ2d0Tkq86pk35LZogZmtN2GvigbGmLVnMhj9txiM7jVvOWemEZsC0vnrDlvSdLsuu1Q4iB8/s400/IMG_5352.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At least mine still runs.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Back down in the valley, we followed the St. Paul Hwy over the river to, yes, St. Paul.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsHci9KERUpHWIXDGIdx1edDYisvjtVxMZGTy8kh6LUAheRoELg0Lx_3ALP8HxtgMevVNBiAjtK6mg-XbKNCYonFceAmI5yJZWw2k6HtvDiyilLk4Gj6BzIqExQXnVNjshmIi7wTGQpMk/s1600/IMG_5354.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsHci9KERUpHWIXDGIdx1edDYisvjtVxMZGTy8kh6LUAheRoELg0Lx_3ALP8HxtgMevVNBiAjtK6mg-XbKNCYonFceAmI5yJZWw2k6HtvDiyilLk4Gj6BzIqExQXnVNjshmIi7wTGQpMk/s400/IMG_5354.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9qGoN9qnz3SqTOnnKPpVTZPbjBbNpXC5Xcq49UAO1-6s5uXGlPyBClKkW2X9fP1Ba5eSGJbiIj8jfR9RtkdRljpw4w8nWDfo6isg6V4KReE0jorZ96Gp8JMC0lLY4vhyphenhyphenuW7wcFtxoxe8/s1600/IMG_5357.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9qGoN9qnz3SqTOnnKPpVTZPbjBbNpXC5Xcq49UAO1-6s5uXGlPyBClKkW2X9fP1Ba5eSGJbiIj8jfR9RtkdRljpw4w8nWDfo6isg6V4KReE0jorZ96Gp8JMC0lLY4vhyphenhyphenuW7wcFtxoxe8/s400/IMG_5357.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Small-town Oregon!</td></tr>
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Sadly, the Banker's Cup closed at 1pm. We'd just missed it. We consoled ourselves by going across the street to the most excellent Burning Boar BBQ food truck and getting roast pork sliders.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjfoLiPpKJoiYD840dbhwmPx7s_HGXt4IQFu7MTwb18LqmpXnLmZwjzyEj4t2BqBg3Ntp1C1IwDxH9ZlRzozbMyrsUbibx9BK-V7TY3cPLJsA3sEHNpjXbbqJChwsHihq11Qhyphenhypheny7EN-64/s1600/IMG_5359.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjfoLiPpKJoiYD840dbhwmPx7s_HGXt4IQFu7MTwb18LqmpXnLmZwjzyEj4t2BqBg3Ntp1C1IwDxH9ZlRzozbMyrsUbibx9BK-V7TY3cPLJsA3sEHNpjXbbqJChwsHihq11Qhyphenhypheny7EN-64/s400/IMG_5359.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Their logo kinda freaked me out.</td></tr>
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So far, we were definitely on the wrong side of the calories consumed to calories burned ratio. Time to head north towards home and burn a few calories.<br />
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Along the way, we happened upon this couple on a fabulous side-by-side recumbent tandem. They were headed in the opposite direction, but we turned around to ride along with them for a bit and chat.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOvshKhoGKVNuIKtvMJG0-2S9TrmVHDtd30akjNXnpEiT-ugO9qj71eeM8wJmpTisKWwQMQ50mxc6hyphenhyphenucfUXZ4KWODRYyJitme88D0-YNmvlv1CaXzXieJb7aYRdBcWfVeN_pdl9aK1fA/s1600/IMG_5361.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOvshKhoGKVNuIKtvMJG0-2S9TrmVHDtd30akjNXnpEiT-ugO9qj71eeM8wJmpTisKWwQMQ50mxc6hyphenhyphenucfUXZ4KWODRYyJitme88D0-YNmvlv1CaXzXieJb7aYRdBcWfVeN_pdl9aK1fA/s400/IMG_5361.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Home built.</td></tr>
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The bike had been built by the male rider, who is blind! Quite an impressive feat. Behind the seats is a trunk of sorts, with lots of carrying capacity for gear. I'm sure the thing weighed a ton, and they weren't moving along at more than 10mph or so, but they were having a grand time in the sun.<br />
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By the time we made it back to my house, we'd covered 77 miles in just under 9 hours with more than 3 hours off the bike. A lovely leisurely way to spend a sunny Saturday in good company!!<br />
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Strava route file here: <a href="http://www.strava.com/activities/90484819">http://www.strava.com/activities/90484819</a><br />
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Susan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3832125806355474162.post-72663103978519813802013-11-24T12:30:00.000-08:002013-11-24T12:30:37.167-08:00Coffeeneuring # 3: Double Dip - Saturday, October 12thJust because the rules say only one coffee shop per days doesn't one has to LIMIT oneself to just one per day...<br />
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Bill had been raving about<a href="http://maplewoodcoffeeandtea.com/"> Maplewood Coffee and Tea</a> since last year's coffeeneuring adventures. Seemed about time I made it over there! <br />
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I left my house at 8:50 for the 9 mile ride over to Bill's place. After a tour of his back yard/future pump track, we headed off (and up) to Maplewood. The coffeehouse is in the middle of a residential neighborhood, in a converted house. Very cozy and homey.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIUyXCblyARwfoAlcfid9WBLmKJycTWRN70V19UIRs92B9-b-BPXWPm0Uo4eNZEYsDg71nAnjBjb-ll3EgVVYdrhnUzQLnGFgUOJsUH1OCvk17DXtZwKr-2UXCr1TewLr0sfFhZAxX5Ik/s1600/IMG_5244.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIUyXCblyARwfoAlcfid9WBLmKJycTWRN70V19UIRs92B9-b-BPXWPm0Uo4eNZEYsDg71nAnjBjb-ll3EgVVYdrhnUzQLnGFgUOJsUH1OCvk17DXtZwKr-2UXCr1TewLr0sfFhZAxX5Ik/s320/IMG_5244.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweeetpea will have to wait outside</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYz01AM_EZbtZHviP2yu8Vuht259OOhI-Xl_GMT8k1B6ApYed2-GGIfo-q8nn1Jpt3zfDPVoS2OHRHfYzExYwgl5W55Y5D_Qlr21C8wPLLwc6l1iVpsCpdHniMuAj0wEztPL2PiT73Vm0/s1600/IMG_5250.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYz01AM_EZbtZHviP2yu8Vuht259OOhI-Xl_GMT8k1B6ApYed2-GGIfo-q8nn1Jpt3zfDPVoS2OHRHfYzExYwgl5W55Y5D_Qlr21C8wPLLwc6l1iVpsCpdHniMuAj0wEztPL2PiT73Vm0/s320/IMG_5250.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Documenting the documentation</td></tr>
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We staked out a window seat and ordered lattes. Asta turned up and we passed an hour in good company.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifoeWn7QFQFBFnWQqcPuHtF5d4UCBZLIS_yFaF-P-7h5kh4Bz9TMhezTEJNBTF21IwOqMmtGoqj0CL0JF41lppXBjAzjoGeq2_qpSqxN4Xxs8cpnz-FnmGt-er_Ottbfs22QDnrZoBqw8/s1600/IMG_5253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifoeWn7QFQFBFnWQqcPuHtF5d4UCBZLIS_yFaF-P-7h5kh4Bz9TMhezTEJNBTF21IwOqMmtGoqj0CL0JF41lppXBjAzjoGeq2_qpSqxN4Xxs8cpnz-FnmGt-er_Ottbfs22QDnrZoBqw8/s320/IMG_5253.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lattes by the pint!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDwrJuPMT-HHKpWD1vzTO2dTGKqfjzkfEzD1XP_qLmqDIBf8ZmtEsjjhnfsgmN-QdRebzBxgnXyPr8sZU840NSJgZNqzWsifSxPwXY7aSQhAQ6V1Ee9mR8pqsoirjmaYG1fHlDaIBFk7s/s1600/IMG_5256.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDwrJuPMT-HHKpWD1vzTO2dTGKqfjzkfEzD1XP_qLmqDIBf8ZmtEsjjhnfsgmN-QdRebzBxgnXyPr8sZU840NSJgZNqzWsifSxPwXY7aSQhAQ6V1Ee9mR8pqsoirjmaYG1fHlDaIBFk7s/s320/IMG_5256.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bill & Asta</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tangobiker/11023112846/in/set-72157637996670893"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikrWorEuNscapzpkVl4-j2L_fVjVVWZaWM9YaHDx4Y2Ki9yUvZ_EheyPaKrTlafQfBbUBKs2PDPjV86Bn2FSpDNseuoUkrrbNhWuuRpzNR9XhQQiGG7FqwfP3vjGMGZ6m3VSRC9klJHFU/s320/2013-10-12+coffeeneuring+%23+3.jpg" width="254" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tangobiker/11023112846/in/set-72157637996670893">Asta & Me. Photo courtesy of Bill Alsup.</a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieU3izNnGpgpaheDzcP6ziHm5ZbE09_4qy0rVGwNVBi_rfBjlQODha2CXw5pKOJ2aAAo2vP337UPwq-W5pMCD040c-dGUv8YT8MhbH-FsAEvqA_rmaWXg56QW_v6Eo5IXfNrHbAulz_0k/s1600/IMG_5258.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieU3izNnGpgpaheDzcP6ziHm5ZbE09_4qy0rVGwNVBi_rfBjlQODha2CXw5pKOJ2aAAo2vP337UPwq-W5pMCD040c-dGUv8YT8MhbH-FsAEvqA_rmaWXg56QW_v6Eo5IXfNrHbAulz_0k/s320/IMG_5258.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This little cutie showed up on a Skuut, accompanied by his Mom, a playmate, and playmate's VERY preggers Mom.</td></tr>
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Rather than head home, we decided to detour to the Beaverton Farmer's Market for some drinks at Pony Espresso. Bill led the way, taking us on a pretty route that included neighborhood tree viewing, some lovely bike trails, and a rando-portage over the railroad tracks near his office!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOaZBbJWpCbpSJrMPoaswi6DR36qhgyAog3e88AQcBhC5yucLHNMZTlebhJy_Q6bdcMKvqfmDP0S4mgx-AsdLgAzq9M8RuHkYvlJclHMKvvS4zbiBCHCS-L4eZJ38Tan7ZHl09Lcwk6mQ/s1600/IMG_5271.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOaZBbJWpCbpSJrMPoaswi6DR36qhgyAog3e88AQcBhC5yucLHNMZTlebhJy_Q6bdcMKvqfmDP0S4mgx-AsdLgAzq9M8RuHkYvlJclHMKvvS4zbiBCHCS-L4eZJ38Tan7ZHl09Lcwk6mQ/s320/IMG_5271.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO13Npnna6yq2aFgP9m9JAPnPYxEX94kf6ovbcGHvZUiP2B7SfG5ZOmM0UQnwcmm0jDEQ-8RZswTJ5Qn6xtJcS1tWHhKsNZUt-JbPHpNNEwFMhb4LjPtgxO96fCIc0NxIW8wZYgopeGDw/s1600/IMG_5275.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO13Npnna6yq2aFgP9m9JAPnPYxEX94kf6ovbcGHvZUiP2B7SfG5ZOmM0UQnwcmm0jDEQ-8RZswTJ5Qn6xtJcS1tWHhKsNZUt-JbPHpNNEwFMhb4LjPtgxO96fCIc0NxIW8wZYgopeGDw/s320/IMG_5275.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doesn't everyone cross the tracks for coffeeneuring??</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVu_YuqRtsFlu0YBdRosi52-wI4TRnzAuUk9mTeJxoWiNmtkD11kaGSYWOWm-8FWYVWWucS05Ta3mWhyPZv4VtsQ60Iitj88ibKyKrNSw_WZlUpurF8KQueGR6fpmNzSwDhoZhgDu5T7M/s1600/IMG_5276.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVu_YuqRtsFlu0YBdRosi52-wI4TRnzAuUk9mTeJxoWiNmtkD11kaGSYWOWm-8FWYVWWucS05Ta3mWhyPZv4VtsQ60Iitj88ibKyKrNSw_WZlUpurF8KQueGR6fpmNzSwDhoZhgDu5T7M/s320/IMG_5276.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Well worn footpath shows we aren't the first to come this way...</td></tr>
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Bill knows everyone, including the proprietor of the Pony Espresso. We ordered the recommended Revelry drinks (mocha with double-dark chocolate and an extra shot of espresso!), while Bill admired the proprietor's refurbished bike.<br />
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We also browsed the market, shopping for produce. Bought the world's largest apple, weighing in over a pound. Enough to feed a family of four for a week.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4265cx6NmfHYUTAoK4XUJcIeI8f1H8ri9bd-sxg_0fvqjdFfeucEOXZDspAraW-d0U6R7RkIz3ws0IUhjTZ2781z_Dt7bzT_boLZ4fjwGJtexTYMgODCVyhM5LlRAGnUVHYnSiO2QN_I/s1600/IMG_5280.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4265cx6NmfHYUTAoK4XUJcIeI8f1H8ri9bd-sxg_0fvqjdFfeucEOXZDspAraW-d0U6R7RkIz3ws0IUhjTZ2781z_Dt7bzT_boLZ4fjwGJtexTYMgODCVyhM5LlRAGnUVHYnSiO2QN_I/s320/IMG_5280.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">World's largest apple</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCyEO8skyD7nYdHqkiB3K0CHsIRAn8s_w4VROgAWga7PrPn7ipX6_hw_dLZTfGaDDNrj74EQdDYnRsvwjX3NjcZKxlEqDmlFJ94rySS2b06EDr-G1GttcZoistwWzdcLdtmfs7T2otraA/s1600/IMG_5281.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCyEO8skyD7nYdHqkiB3K0CHsIRAn8s_w4VROgAWga7PrPn7ipX6_hw_dLZTfGaDDNrj74EQdDYnRsvwjX3NjcZKxlEqDmlFJ94rySS2b06EDr-G1GttcZoistwWzdcLdtmfs7T2otraA/s320/IMG_5281.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fresh ginger. YUM!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrmtUOK2f4x17RMvU_TIsw6dlbUs08io8BH6Mb6q4ydBto14iR6cELJeEGTPRhest24Mur0Ge_6FqdPXA8Mku9tOwi_oPM1wsUPXcEGf5PDqahQN19aGhs3e7lLoXK-UsVU34JCjOG_YM/s1600/IMG_5282.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrmtUOK2f4x17RMvU_TIsw6dlbUs08io8BH6Mb6q4ydBto14iR6cELJeEGTPRhest24Mur0Ge_6FqdPXA8Mku9tOwi_oPM1wsUPXcEGf5PDqahQN19aGhs3e7lLoXK-UsVU34JCjOG_YM/s320/IMG_5282.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's 5 o'clock somewhere.</td></tr>
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Afterwards, we parted ways. Asta & I rode over to the MAX train, headed in opposite directions. By the time I rode from the MAX, I'd accumulated 23.3 miles and a heckuva caffeine buzz.<br />
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Bill's excellent coffeeneuring Flickr set is here: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tangobiker/sets/72157637996670893/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/tangobiker/sets/72157637996670893/</a><br />
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My Strava route files for the day:<br />
<a href="http://www.strava.com/activities/88683992">http://www.strava.com/activities/88683992</a><br />
<a href="http://www.strava.com/activities/88683985">http://www.strava.com/activities/88683985</a><br />
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<br />Susan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3832125806355474162.post-74660475988170195762013-11-02T14:30:00.000-07:002013-11-02T14:33:05.478-07:00Coffeeneuring # 2 - A Trans-West Hills Divide Cultural Exchange - Sunday, October 6th<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
As a result of a long (44!) post thread on the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/217861371586161/">Oregon Randonneurs Facebook Page</a>, a nine person-strong group of coffeeneurs descended on <a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/blend-coffee-lounge-portland-2">Blend Coffee Lounge</a> on a fabulously sunny morning. We came from all points on the Portland compass. Bill, Lynne & I from the west side, Ken from Multnomah Village, Jeff from southeast, Theo & Asta from close-in to town, Steph & Ryan from North Portland. Bridging the Trans-West Hills Cultural Divide for coffee!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkwlTYvSU1fZ1-kegzkUi1Plh0V2Dmqr8xZS0JPUfXKiU2fl3zTFTkxJKAi7RJA50Y6FF6ySG4rDJl8sBe_RmEL4hVsmSLcKfj-PUQiiZHAlU_1M5AHMm-uItE_1CRlpYK3rXpB70SDhc/s1600/IMG_5222.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkwlTYvSU1fZ1-kegzkUi1Plh0V2Dmqr8xZS0JPUfXKiU2fl3zTFTkxJKAi7RJA50Y6FF6ySG4rDJl8sBe_RmEL4hVsmSLcKfj-PUQiiZHAlU_1M5AHMm-uItE_1CRlpYK3rXpB70SDhc/s320/IMG_5222.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some interesting menu choices.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCQEkjRk4js2gAdXGAxfK37Z4DlbUUqtlIWbZ3iC6y_d8lL_WBesjDg-CrYFDC-nDDD0YrE365AFu1mrX88lVKmpVuAY8aXBs1Dt0DQoBvCw_5eZFXs_TnfyUijQ4Bs4Xy52XvraaDJ0M/s1600/IMG_5223.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCQEkjRk4js2gAdXGAxfK37Z4DlbUUqtlIWbZ3iC6y_d8lL_WBesjDg-CrYFDC-nDDD0YrE365AFu1mrX88lVKmpVuAY8aXBs1Dt0DQoBvCw_5eZFXs_TnfyUijQ4Bs4Xy52XvraaDJ0M/s320/IMG_5223.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Best dressed barista in town. Pretty pleated dress and all!</td></tr>
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I ordered a Harvest Moon Latte, which was a delightful combination of espresso and Chai Tea. Beautiful latte art by the barista. And of course, I couldn't resist a peanut butter cookie.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_5nCdNYxRTykEeQfgN5YeUQYlhUy98jD6qXgKhJPDyZu0bh2OZudYn0I-KnNydk0ARaqZjcmzrya2AZGeX9WaAtr-p-K3_Yv-WqIuQmkUuUG4r98XfJRdxrdUNEmUAnZ6_wGmHWUM9-U/s1600/IMG_5225.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_5nCdNYxRTykEeQfgN5YeUQYlhUy98jD6qXgKhJPDyZu0bh2OZudYn0I-KnNydk0ARaqZjcmzrya2AZGeX9WaAtr-p-K3_Yv-WqIuQmkUuUG4r98XfJRdxrdUNEmUAnZ6_wGmHWUM9-U/s320/IMG_5225.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Harvest Moon Latte & Peanut Butter Cookie</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw7p2fCcBtHzCgKLlHW7Tf2zwt_VcNllFIiR12dkr8lNuNnW2Ztq-tM4aoYU_OeLqX2xiAtWgbfyUYeC_7CkPHDSGBdcuiaf8RVH4ln5SSkZYrKcyB9DJVZpwVJd8gxCOZodMPIpIQORY/s1600/IMG_5226.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw7p2fCcBtHzCgKLlHW7Tf2zwt_VcNllFIiR12dkr8lNuNnW2Ztq-tM4aoYU_OeLqX2xiAtWgbfyUYeC_7CkPHDSGBdcuiaf8RVH4ln5SSkZYrKcyB9DJVZpwVJd8gxCOZodMPIpIQORY/s320/IMG_5226.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Documenting the documentation.</td></tr>
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One of the great things about Portland is the proliferation of bike corrals. I read that the city just installed it's 100th corral! They really are a boon to bike friendly businesses. And as a cyclist, I love having my bike nearby where I can keep an eye on it. With the rampant bike theft in pdx, it was awfully nice to not have to worry about it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1SHIbbWS_3WP2fShyAS8bQ3_dLnpHPBVYYHd6YGKjHfye-MU5CfeT8UQurv8aKDDhWOZn1NZ62CQ-DD403P9O-nc1XX1FTNrrFbTbJRmiErqkUMTWmtZE-nncK7REJZPjGSagy6USCJQ/s1600/IMG_5228.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1SHIbbWS_3WP2fShyAS8bQ3_dLnpHPBVYYHd6YGKjHfye-MU5CfeT8UQurv8aKDDhWOZn1NZ62CQ-DD403P9O-nc1XX1FTNrrFbTbJRmiErqkUMTWmtZE-nncK7REJZPjGSagy6USCJQ/s320/IMG_5228.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Conveniently located bike corrals</td></tr>
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The locals have a sense of humor too. At least, I'm assuming they are joking....<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjWZczmvFS188hv_4LBQInhaxSK_Fb-JvFRqVVdww7TFTzNudQWqRUZ5qcpVIMXNo7yF2oDfE01kTFgnqL-hbR5kN3Z4bDMYhCKGNzMXOuFvcga3_TU0G-zBYLAx5FNnvtKmOechPqQd0/s1600/IMG_5233.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjWZczmvFS188hv_4LBQInhaxSK_Fb-JvFRqVVdww7TFTzNudQWqRUZ5qcpVIMXNo7yF2oDfE01kTFgnqL-hbR5kN3Z4bDMYhCKGNzMXOuFvcga3_TU0G-zBYLAx5FNnvtKmOechPqQd0/s320/IMG_5233.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I dare you to jump on this wifi network. Go ahead. I'm sure it will be fine.</td></tr>
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Put this many cyclists in one place, and the conversation is sure to meander. We sat gabbing at the coffee shop for three or four hours! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBJjGcVx2Fpm5_pzZocoGbOOIzQtc6iLVrHpKSzxUOcSgjvS94Ertke8RxfSZYUuefmBYrApihV2b07DzunRwCMyg3cmJ1YH-n8TIbn6BvMWqq2RbDddg7xEwWYLqUOd8hU2qJqHDlYJk/s1600/IMG_5234.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBJjGcVx2Fpm5_pzZocoGbOOIzQtc6iLVrHpKSzxUOcSgjvS94Ertke8RxfSZYUuefmBYrApihV2b07DzunRwCMyg3cmJ1YH-n8TIbn6BvMWqq2RbDddg7xEwWYLqUOd8hU2qJqHDlYJk/s320/IMG_5234.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coffeeneurs</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHqKCAJ560rz1ZZ4RNzA1sSVceWrbjt8Fio7K0f5NTyK7FgZXTQhi3cF9eyIn-WzV52stR1JGiHtbmeyIHsHgQVc9Y7xvLGvq2PzK6-VWJsZE94K0GZwQ3CFrbAfne7hxxVyUqYhGq8XE/s1600/IMG_5235.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHqKCAJ560rz1ZZ4RNzA1sSVceWrbjt8Fio7K0f5NTyK7FgZXTQhi3cF9eyIn-WzV52stR1JGiHtbmeyIHsHgQVc9Y7xvLGvq2PzK6-VWJsZE94K0GZwQ3CFrbAfne7hxxVyUqYhGq8XE/s320/IMG_5235.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jeff brought along reading material to share.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAJe7Go_UgNWO_XQL1SArN7GHY9T-pX3KKtMkI3SVGe7L9GHGgBoOGiSpKYZmrF72y5j15zXTuZVTsrxZv5KzbpYN7qaElkWlPM6PH5hQA825LnLM7KJLk_VtfSMOaac0ZZW3EdvoO-TE/s1600/IMG_5236.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAJe7Go_UgNWO_XQL1SArN7GHY9T-pX3KKtMkI3SVGe7L9GHGgBoOGiSpKYZmrF72y5j15zXTuZVTsrxZv5KzbpYN7qaElkWlPM6PH5hQA825LnLM7KJLk_VtfSMOaac0ZZW3EdvoO-TE/s320/IMG_5236.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Asta's star-struck bicycle</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKuh7iXo17CHOycEYTjfcQYa5hvPm9fL20dAXxVtys28gGz3MINiRhpsUsbXmhpqrGzA_qK-oDMJTEpU6GknnZmCrvZxpzYjTjrfev1SB9MTvHG8zi_mykghHFlGpvPhhbdMKNYU1ilOU/s1600/IMG_5238.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKuh7iXo17CHOycEYTjfcQYa5hvPm9fL20dAXxVtys28gGz3MINiRhpsUsbXmhpqrGzA_qK-oDMJTEpU6GknnZmCrvZxpzYjTjrfev1SB9MTvHG8zi_mykghHFlGpvPhhbdMKNYU1ilOU/s320/IMG_5238.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Asta & Theo</td></tr>
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Eventually, we decamped to a nearby restaurant and had an early dinner. By the time I got home, it was nearly dark, and I'd been gone the entire day on this coffeeneuring adventure. <br />
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Total distance ridden: 13.3 miles, courtesy of using MAX for the lumpy commute over the west hills.<br />
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Susan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3832125806355474162.post-41018045156284002422013-11-02T12:30:00.002-07:002013-11-02T12:31:20.313-07:00Coffeeneuring # 1 - Jim & Patty's Coffee - Saturday, October 5th<a href="http://lynnerides.blogspot.com/">Lynne</a> has been raving about <a href="http://jimandpattys.com/">Jim & Patty's Coffee</a> ever since they re-opened in in June. Seemed like it was time for a visit.<br />
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I rode over to Jim & Patty's prior to the ORRando Scavenger Hunt 200K. Lots of randos were around early, getting coffee and socializing.
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixnTdmUGJBCCRKpO2ZSalpt-eY5Nv9Kl45754pXWAgFkdU4n9QWcvPla3LKTO1Zq3xNi_Mz_yJCVLjkeRnSP5FLxmtgP7trrxCD0dHuE5WqSqtV01tHUAqzg5rbp5xSwATESqIMtxbsOY/s1600/IMG_5210.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixnTdmUGJBCCRKpO2ZSalpt-eY5Nv9Kl45754pXWAgFkdU4n9QWcvPla3LKTO1Zq3xNi_Mz_yJCVLjkeRnSP5FLxmtgP7trrxCD0dHuE5WqSqtV01tHUAqzg5rbp5xSwATESqIMtxbsOY/s320/IMG_5210.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Narayan, enjoying his morning java.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU4Ko7iohiAl-dc6vysiKO8KRN5ZuQiWb74x_Vx3Gv7cIzEUxvhutRSRHmC1vwA4W8Kz9yoPhM1Scv4-eKjg8ivqzETMe6_xQgkhTlxAMxHGJLNnVxChGY5-3xxCYTAhHL-nHmERlE3jU/s1600/IMG_5211.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU4Ko7iohiAl-dc6vysiKO8KRN5ZuQiWb74x_Vx3Gv7cIzEUxvhutRSRHmC1vwA4W8Kz9yoPhM1Scv4-eKjg8ivqzETMe6_xQgkhTlxAMxHGJLNnVxChGY5-3xxCYTAhHL-nHmERlE3jU/s320/IMG_5211.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bill, uber-coffeeneur</td></tr>
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It's a cute little shop, in the same location they were in Umpteen Million Years Ago when they started Coffee People. Despite all the years that have passed and tenants that have occupied the space, the original murals still grace the walls.<br />
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A quick review of the menu revealed the calorie bomb known as a Chocolate Peanut Butter Mocha. OK, sign me up! <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjKOh17e9OTk4zZ74UBI6vvsJZ5xWewxKb7Is2gpNLQNmfUgH-xCbUEC4GbFvShB53NO1ywH2933-VySjBjXXSfZpkkc0bII25T1Sc4pUpnEOsWxdutUeW45-CbgHhWu5g5HRvMB9rYuI/s1600/IMG_5208.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjKOh17e9OTk4zZ74UBI6vvsJZ5xWewxKb7Is2gpNLQNmfUgH-xCbUEC4GbFvShB53NO1ywH2933-VySjBjXXSfZpkkc0bII25T1Sc4pUpnEOsWxdutUeW45-CbgHhWu5g5HRvMB9rYuI/s320/IMG_5208.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Absolutely yummy. Good thing there was a brevet planned that day, because the <a href="http://www.strava.com/activities/87442406">2.7 mile ride</a> to the coffee shop definitely did not earn me that many calories...<br />
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Post script: Pretty sure that mocha carried me at least 100K on the day's brevet! We were graced by amazing weather; sunshine and clear blue skies. A few photos:<br />
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<br />Susan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3832125806355474162.post-49669550177452698222013-04-15T14:52:00.001-07:002013-05-15T13:28:02.854-07:00# 1727 Rock Creek - Clatskanie - Vernonia 204KSeems like lots of OrRando perms go south, west or east of Portland. I wanted a route starting on the west side that goes north, and so, this perm was born.<br />
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The ride begins right on the Urban Growth Boundary and heads immediately into the West Hills via one of my favorite no-traffic climbs on Rock Creek Road. After a quick info control, you'll cross Skyline and descend Logie Trail. PLEASE USE CAUTION. This is a steep twisty descent. If the road is wet, it can be dangerous.</div>
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After 11 miles on Hwy 30 (very wide shoulder), you'll turn off onto quieter roads that lead to the Old Towne area of St. Helens. St. Helens is an open control, however, I recommend you follow the suggestion on the cue sheet and visit Good Things, which is 2 blocks off course on S 1st. It's a cute little cafe run by an older couple. All the treats are homemade, the coffee is hot, and the murals newly painted on the wall are entertaining.</div>
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If you choose not to go to Good Things, you'll find a small market at the corner of West St & Deer Island Rd at mile 27.1.</div>
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Soon you will find yourself back on Hwy 30 for 17 miles. While Hwy 30 is not my favorite road to ride, this far north the traffic has decreased significantly and the shoulder is still decent. I promise that the rest of the ride makes up for this 17 miles stretch. :-) </div>
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At mile 45, you'll find yourself in Rainer. If you are low on water or supplies, buy something here, as there are no services until mile 63, with some climbing in between.</div>
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Old Rainier Rd has a good 2 mile climb on it, but almost zero traffic. You'll find an info control at the top to keep you honest.</div>
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After descending back to Hwy 30 for your final 1.5 miles on that road (yay!), you'll turn off and head out Beaver Falls Rd. This is a gem of a road. Very low traffic, pretty scenery and of course, the Falls. The falls will be on your LEFT and not visible from the right side of the road as you descend. I highly recommend taking the extra minute to coast into the car pullout on the left to take a look at them.</div>
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You'll find another info control on Beaver Falls Rd.</div>
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Stock up on food and water in Clatskanie. It is not a control, but it's your last chance for water, food or a bathroom until after a very long climb into the Coast Range. There's a convenience store in Clatskanie at the corner of Hwy 30 at mile 63.5.</div>
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You'll climb the Mist-Clastskanie Hwy up over 1300 feet. The descent can be chilly, so be sure to have a jacket. There's very little traffic on this climb, so you'll have nothing to distract you from your heavy breathing. There's also a false summit, so don't get your hopes up too quickly.</div>
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After descending, you'll ride the (mostly) flat Highway 47 heading towards Vernonia. If your bladder is about to bust, or you are out of water, take a stop at the bathrooms at Big Eddy Park at mile 83.</div>
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Vernonia is an open control. If you have time in the bank, stop at Black Bear Coffee Company on the left. There's also a Subway and a minimart if you want to be in and out more quickly, or are short on time.</div>
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After Vernonia, you will spend the next 20 miles riding the iconic Banks-Vernonia Linear Trail. As you ascend, you'll find find yourself in areas of fairy tale forest that will surely not disappoint. Have your camera handy. The descent is even better. Smooth, gorgeous, and with little bike or ped traffic in the evenings. Do use caution on the switchback near the crossing of Hwy 47. From November to March, you may well find yourself riding this in the dark. Please use caution, as there is NO lighting on the trail and, especially near Vernonia) there are areas where roots have caused the trail to heave a bit. Use extra caution on the wooden bridges which are slippery when wet, and beware that some of the bridge/trail intersections are bumpy. Finally, you will cross a few small roads that have gravel right at the trail's edge, so please remain vigilent.</div>
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Banks is also an open control. There's a Thriftway on the left as you exit town. The Espresso stand in the parking lot has good mochas, and will hand write a receipt for you.</div>
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After that, it's mostly flat, very familiar back roads to the finish.</div>
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I live just a few blocks from the start/finish, so you're welcome to give my cell a call and see if I am around. My # is at the bottom of the cue sheet. If I'm around (a.k.a. not out riding somewhere myself!), I can meet you to collect your cards. </div>
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Have a great ride!</div>
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Route:</div>
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<a href="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/1863208">http://ridewithgps.com/routes/1863208</a></div>
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Cuesheet:</div>
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<a href="https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B_z9fCafBb2XVG1SMFhlOVpXam8/edit">In .pdf format</a><br />
<a href="https://docs.google.com/spreadsheet/ccc?key=0Avz9fCafBb2XdG8xVVRENlJmcS1IajZiSFEzM2dsdFE#gid=0">In Excel format</a><br />
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<a href="https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B_z9fCafBb2XWVd3SXJNa0N6dWs/edit">Reg Form & Waiver</a><br />
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Susan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3832125806355474162.post-7129052912351908762012-12-19T18:28:00.000-08:002012-12-19T18:30:01.299-08:00STOLEN BIKE<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Stolen from NW 22nd
& Overton today at ~3:00.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Specialized
Hardrock. 90s Steel MTB, with yellow decals and green Oury
grips.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Bike was attached to
a blue Soup Cycle Trailer.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Soup Cycle employees
use their own bikes and tools while pulling the trailers, so while the trailer
may be covered by insurance, the bike is not. Losing her work bike, tools and
personal items (her waterproof goretex jacket, gloves, pump, etc.) is a huge
loss for someone who makes their living cycling.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Please, keep your
eyes out for the bike, and if you have any information, please contact me, or
Asta Chastain at her first name dot last name at gmail dot com. A police report
has been filed, so you can also contact Portland Police if you see someone
riding around on it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">THANKS for keeping
your eyes peeled. </span><br />
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Susan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3832125806355474162.post-67836088854457368032012-11-18T17:36:00.003-08:002012-11-18T17:36:44.543-08:00Coffeeneuring RecapHere's a quick link to my 2012 Coffeeneuring history. 8 trips in all!<br />
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<a href="http://susanotcenas.blogspot.com/2012/10/coffeeneuring-1.html">#1 Insomnia Coffee Company</a><br />
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<a href="http://susanotcenas.blogspot.com/2012/10/coffeeneuring-2.html">#2 Edge Good Coffee</a><br />
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<a href="http://susanotcenas.blogspot.com/2012/11/coffeeneuring-3-4.html">#3 Sesame Donuts</a><br />
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<a href="http://susanotcenas.blogspot.com/2012/11/coffeeneuring-4-10-27-2012.html">#4 Townshend's Tea Company</a><br />
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<a href="http://susanotcenas.blogspot.com/2012/11/coffeeneuring-5-11-03-2012.html">#5 Maggie's Buns</a><br />
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<a href="http://susanotcenas.blogspot.com/2012/11/coffeeneuring-6-2012-11-04.html">#6 Grand Central Baking</a><br />
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<a href="http://susanotcenas.blogspot.com/2012/11/coffeeneuring-7-2012-11-10.html">#7 Dutch Brothers Coffee</a><br />
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<a href="http://susanotcenas.blogspot.com/2012/11/coffeeneuring-8-11-11-12.html">#8 Chatterbox Coffee</a><br />
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<br />Susan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3832125806355474162.post-43032311809972688172012-11-18T17:30:00.001-08:002012-11-18T17:39:01.697-08:00Coffeeneuring #8 11-11-12Wow, how quickly 6 weeks pass by.<br />
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For our final coffeeneuring trip, Lynne & I planned to meet at <a href="http://www.chatterboxcoffee.com/">Chatterbox Coffee</a> on Baseline. I haven't been there in a couple of years, and it's changed hands (and names) in the interim. Seemed like it was time for another visit.<br />
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I'd been up fairly late the night before <a href="http://susanotcenas.blogspot.com/2012/11/coffeeneuring-7-2012-11-10.html">decorating a birthday cake</a>, so I was glad the ride was just 8 miles round trip. As it was the only exercise I was going to get this weekend, I was pretty sure I wouldn't burn off enough calories to cover the coffee, much less the cake to be consumed later in the day! When I arrived, I found Lynne, her husband Fitz, and Jeff A already inside. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chatterbox. The gang's all here!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lynne & Fitz. (Jeff A not pictured)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lynne & Mexi-Mocha.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lots of choices!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Latte. Passable coffee, lousy photo.</td></tr>
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We passed a very pleasant hour chatting. Lynne's write-up of the day (and a group photo) can be found <a href="http://lynnerides.blogspot.com/2012/11/coffeeneuring-7-chatterbox-coffee.html">here</a>.<br />
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Many many thanks to<a href="http://chasingmailboxes.com/"> Mary Gersema of Chasing Mailboxes</a> for inspiring us to complete our coffeeneuring journey. Looking forward to 2013!<br />
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Details:<br />
Chatterbox Cafe<br />
Vanilla Latte<br />
8 miles<br />
With Lynne, Fitz & Jeff A!<br />
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Susan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3832125806355474162.post-13067601316092035762012-11-18T17:11:00.000-08:002012-11-18T17:11:32.562-08:00Coffeeneuring #7 2012-11-10Every year I bake a birthday cake for Liam (the son of our best friends). I've been doing this since his very first birthday. This year marked the end of Liam's 7th trip around the sun, and thus it was time for me to make him yet another cake.<br />
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Over the years, Liam's cakes have gotten more elaborate. I let Liam choose the theme, but after that I'm free to make whatever I like. This summer, Liam learned to ride his bike without training wheels, so sometime around August he decided he wanted a bicycle cake. With history as my guide, I knew I would invest a significant number of hours into the creation of his cake.<br />
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Liam's birthday is November 11th (Sunday). His party was scheduled for 1pm. November 11th is ALSO the day that Lynne & I planned to meet to do our final coffeneuring. 9am.<br />
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I planned to spend all day Saturday November 10th decorating Liam's cake. With history as my guide, I knew I would invest a <b>significant</b> number of hours into the creation of his cake. (Last year's cake involved 36 hours spread out over nearly a week.) This year's cake, while not as complex, was still quite an undertaking. Although the cakes themselves were already baked, I knew the entire day would be spent on it's construction. <br />
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What does this have to do with coffeeneuring? Well, I was worried that November 11th would arrive to find me with his cake unfinished, me scrambling to put the finishing touches on it the morning of the party, and therefore unable to meet Lynne to coffeeneur. Since this was the FINAL day of the FINAL weekend of coffeeneuring, I did not want to miss it!<br />
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And so, since I decided to do an "insurance coffeeneur". What's that? Well.... sometimes Lynne & I do "insurance perms". Both of us are working on another R-12. Some months, there's a big ride (400K, 600K etc.) scheduled late in the month. While neither of us ever DNF brevets, there's always that chance, and so, as "insurance" against breaking our R-12 streaks, we will sometimes do a 200K perm earlier in the month. You know, just in case.<br />
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So, on the morning of the 10th, I decided I needed a quick "insurance" ride. The grocery store is 1.2 miles (2.4 miles r/t) from my house. I needed more powdered sugar for the cake fondant so I decided to ride my bike, get some coffee, buy the sugar, and hightail it home. Perhaps this trip is not within the "spirit" of the casual, relaxed coffeeneuring events we'd had up to this point, but sometimes life intervenes to interrrupt our best intentions.<br />
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My dutch bike (a REAL dutch bike: the Gazelle Madelief) has a grocery pannier permanently installed, so I decided to take that bike to the local Fred Meyer. As I was pedaling towards the store, I realized I could have fun with the dutch theme. Rather that going to Starbucks (I'd sworn that I wouldn't use that as one of my coffeeneuring locations!) I decided to ride to the nearby Dutch Brothers Drive-thru instead!<br />
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Dutch Brothers has a walk-up window so I parked my bike and ordered a "Cocomo". I think it's basically a latte with coconut flavor. It wasn't great, but wasn't awful either. I wouldn't go out of my way to order it again.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dutch bike at Dutch Brothers</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Gazelle Madelief at the grocery store. </td></tr>
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Groceries purchased, I returned home to work on Liam's cake. <br />
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I'm pretty good at copying cakes I find online or elsewhere. To make Liam's cake I was inspired by one I found on a blog, but decided i could one-up it by making the wheels actually spin! To do so, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Round-Bearings-16-Thick-750-lb-Capacity/dp/B0006LBVE2/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1353286944&sr=8-4&keywords=lazy+susan+bearing">I purchased lazy susan bearings online at Amazon</a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK6reo2w4fA-G-jDc_GkQ5yxmtwEAA-QmqV3Z2jrHDHhi7ZJCx0gY7_6nroR2jJR8oH2qrfB87dw7WKGXhUd76IS5HO3aa8WIxEgPHqtjrZ9f5FGh4wfmilvC8Xr-8ig1s9z3rX7SdaR0/s1600/bearing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK6reo2w4fA-G-jDc_GkQ5yxmtwEAA-QmqV3Z2jrHDHhi7ZJCx0gY7_6nroR2jJR8oH2qrfB87dw7WKGXhUd76IS5HO3aa8WIxEgPHqtjrZ9f5FGh4wfmilvC8Xr-8ig1s9z3rX7SdaR0/s1600/bearing.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spin me around!</td></tr>
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The construction of the cake was time-consuming , but I got it done by 1am. (Early enough to get up the next day for coffeeneuring with Lynne. Yay!)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The finished cake!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Ja7Lj3t9uh13mkOZZMDAOjNxoiRyxaCPyup2Dcn_f8Eg5AbRnqN41sIJ00q8cLls245t4_q_ezpcNZ_F6HKDUyZRTsProI7x7h4RROnFZzireD-IvX-7H0vWD_71ylDjvnUcBPYTmxc/s1600/candles.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Ja7Lj3t9uh13mkOZZMDAOjNxoiRyxaCPyup2Dcn_f8Eg5AbRnqN41sIJ00q8cLls245t4_q_ezpcNZ_F6HKDUyZRTsProI7x7h4RROnFZzireD-IvX-7H0vWD_71ylDjvnUcBPYTmxc/s320/candles.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Manufactured 2005. The boy, not the cake!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPefHGSylkaJpXhn5rnJFC1AdwcCAcs5cbG8I0gQZjDEbmX2DbYNkZVFi9JLu4iJPHRkDAnhdXSKDoYR8ehLew-6bfINrC3BMlk2YSMu0KQxEXe7REfpfOrkbtMhx3YcLIfWGgQml5YL4/s1600/liam.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPefHGSylkaJpXhn5rnJFC1AdwcCAcs5cbG8I0gQZjDEbmX2DbYNkZVFi9JLu4iJPHRkDAnhdXSKDoYR8ehLew-6bfINrC3BMlk2YSMu0KQxEXe7REfpfOrkbtMhx3YcLIfWGgQml5YL4/s320/liam.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favorite 7 year old. Love you, Liam!</td></tr>
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Here's a quick video clip of Liam playing with the spinning wheels. They were a big hit with all the boys at the party!<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx6l2Ld1XPm0pYSp7xTUYv7ln3oAiQy50lxPoShm0tO7F_75wZU9CD0Q-4hKugwae78QtJ5bFk7vDAzioUiCw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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The details:<br />
Dutch Brothers Coffee<br />
Distance: 2.4 miles<br />
"cocomo" coconut latte. Meh.<br />
All by myself!<br />
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Susan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3832125806355474162.post-62381278525355326172012-11-18T16:26:00.001-08:002012-11-18T16:26:04.577-08:00Coffeeneuring #6 2012-11-04<a href="http://www.grandcentralbakery.com/about/">Grand Central Bakery</a> makes GREAT bread. They also make a surprisingly good latte. On November 4th, <a href="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/1859600">I rode the 14.8 miles</a> to Grand Central to meet Theo, Ed & Asta for coffee and breakfast. We were planning to ride the <a href="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/1316087">Lunch at Nick's 200K permanent</a> after breakfast, so coffee and some solid food seemed advisable.<br />
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I arrived to find everyone else already there, including Ken (the perm owner who needed to give us cards & waivers) and Rob, with whom we'd ridden the <a href="http://orrandonneurs.org/rba/2012/Verboort/Verboort_info.html">Verboort Sausage Populaire</a> the day before. They both live within a few blocks of Grand Central.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp2qsNgbjUVjw6giASWC4skbttjVY-Cw8siQCQeXrNi37tdGWp2pJMoQLyRV0fVNvgEdXd9P39fXGrp2vCb7XHGGoHfobQ9TJ_l2dR7hQ6aXS3z5CEsVuRYlcAEckgRwmqlRdnLwJmW8U/s1600/gang.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp2qsNgbjUVjw6giASWC4skbttjVY-Cw8siQCQeXrNi37tdGWp2pJMoQLyRV0fVNvgEdXd9P39fXGrp2vCb7XHGGoHfobQ9TJ_l2dR7hQ6aXS3z5CEsVuRYlcAEckgRwmqlRdnLwJmW8U/s320/gang.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(L to R) Ed, Theo, Asta Ken & Rob.</td></tr>
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Service was slooooooow, so despite wanting something warm, I ended up with just a latte and a jammer. A very tasty jammer, but not the warm breakfast I was hoping for. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9KhDRhiniNYqJnOpXws9B34895MGsG4OnqZiccB-ybOKLmR4nFlH7aDgemxhmVEIgPh5C7UvMkUPKY87eywf71JNekDfza_aCWo3lM3fn8hTwCBFo-n98Mcgw1etEINj_Otso1Dsvncg/s1600/coffee.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9KhDRhiniNYqJnOpXws9B34895MGsG4OnqZiccB-ybOKLmR4nFlH7aDgemxhmVEIgPh5C7UvMkUPKY87eywf71JNekDfza_aCWo3lM3fn8hTwCBFo-n98Mcgw1etEINj_Otso1Dsvncg/s320/coffee.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Latte served by the pint!</td></tr>
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<br />Ed bought bread to sustain him through the 200K. Was quite amusing to see it sticking out of his handlebar bag half the day!<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNUqyYp-MyRofdljN_sKMPFcVjYrGZqBjUlHKFDkR5NehYAd9S9-Itidrhs_geqx71EHWyUxYl89phYGXqKYmyPojsw3cLQfEUayJFSSYCGLV8b4L4RgQ5N0M3AfaeZJjDNR205rR5PNQ/s1600/Ed.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNUqyYp-MyRofdljN_sKMPFcVjYrGZqBjUlHKFDkR5NehYAd9S9-Itidrhs_geqx71EHWyUxYl89phYGXqKYmyPojsw3cLQfEUayJFSSYCGLV8b4L4RgQ5N0M3AfaeZJjDNR205rR5PNQ/s320/Ed.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Now, don't go eating that all at once...</td></tr>
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The details:</div>
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Grand Central Bakery, Multnomah Blvd, Portland</div>
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Vanilla Latte & a jammer</div>
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14.8 miles one way (30r/t)</div>
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with Ed, Theo, Asta, Ken & Rob!</div>
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Susan Otcenashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09904095842697556879noreply@blogger.com0