FLCC> Highlander Tour Report--long

[Jack Rueckheim]

Well, I did the Midlander version with Mark, Amanda, Daniel Blakely, and
Laurie Cuomo.  I pre-reged and got a $5 break (but didn't see my name on
Bopple Hill).  Our ride was like Ernie's and Jim's, only shorter (metric
century) and with better luck (no flats, crashes, or mechanicals except
Laurie's intermittent failure to coax the chain of Sarah T's triple
crank bike onto the small chain ring, and the ear-splitting racket when
she managed to do so).

Of course, we all gave Laurie good-natured grief for the triple crank at
the outset.  Of course, we all would have killed for one on Bopple Hill
and numerous other places.  Mark had a 39-27 and I had a 39-25 and we
both managed to ride straight up the hill (I think the spray-painted
number said 23%) but we were standing on the pedals every inch of the
way.

At the feed stop in the park, Daniel wasn't feeling well and was
thinking of cutting the ride short.  Several other riders convinced him
that he was at the top of the world and the only way to go from there
was down.  That was sort of true, with a 2-3 mile descent right off the
bat, followed by only minimal (hah!) climbing to get home.  Daniel
forged on and finished very strongly. 

I would say this 62 mile ride is tougher than the Tour de Shunk century
in PA's Endless Moutains--and when I did that, I thought it was a tough
ride.

Jack

-----Original Message-----
From: flcc-bounces at icycle.org [mailto:flcc-bounces at icycle.org]On Behalf
Of Ernie Bayles
Sent: Monday, September 18, 2006 11:10 AM
To: flcc
Subject: FLCC> Highlander Tour Report--long


Against all my better judgement, I decided friday morning that I would 
take up Jim Bondra's invitation to accompany him on the "Highlander"--a 
100 mile tour in the vicinity of Canandaigua Lake with an advertised 
"~11,000 feet of vertical gain"--the next day.  This is reputed to be 
one of the hilliest centuries in the country and supposedly has more 
elevation gain than our own "Terrible Hills" (which has only been done 
once, to my knowledge). 

I guess somewhere in the decongestant fog (from my newly aquired cold), 
I not so wisely decided that what my aching body needed was a good 
ride.  So I shook the dust off my cyclocross bike (I figure I needed a 
bit more gear than a 39-23), oiled the chain, and pumped up the tires.  
5:15 the next morning Jim showed up and we were on our way.  Driving 
through heavy fog, we got to the Bristol Ski Area at a bit after 7.  The

parking lot was nearly full and droves of cyclists were headed out the 
drive.  We quickly registered ($60 (!!) for me--not preregistered as I 
was) and hurried to get on the road. 

First thing I do is manage to rip my rear brake cable out of the lever 
in the parking lot.  Big deal, who needs two brakes in a tour?  But Jim 
convinced me to try and find a new cable so off I went in search of 
same.  Much to my suprise, I discovered that my cyclo-cross "cheater" 
brake lever still worked just fine.  So I nixed the fix.  Strangely 
enough, this turned out not to be a bad decision after all.  My brakes 
worked fine.  But I will note that if I had only one I would probably 
would have died on the first major downhill. 

But that was about the last luck we had that day.  Finally, after much 
fussing about, stuffing our pockets with food, tubes, chamois cream, and

whatnot, we headed out the parking lot.  Jim said something like "maybe 
we ought to check out..." so I dutifully slowed and turned to look at 
him as he ran full on into the back of my bike at about 10 mph.  Down he

goes with bits and pieces flying everywhere.  No harm done.  We 
straighten the bars, get the cyclocomputer back on and take off.  Well, 
not really, since my rear quick release was released and I couldn't go 
anywhere.  Then we take off.  By now, it is almost 8.  This ride 
supposedly takes 7 to 8 hours.  I figured 7 maximum.  We'll be home by 
5.....

Rolling down the road, the first mile is perfectly flat.  We pick off a 
few riders and are moving well, shaking off the chill from the fog.  But

then I get that funny feeling that something isn't quite right with the 
bike, and surely enough I have a flat.  Oh well, I only have one tube, 
but Jim has one and a patch kit.  We fix it and carry on.  The hills 
start coming almost immediately.  I'm feeling pretty good now and am 
pushing the pace a bit, but it doesn't seem to bother Jim much so I 
really pick it up on the first big climb.  Here, we pass our first 
casualty--a rider standing over his bike clearly having just relieved 
himself of breakfast about half way up the climb.  "It's going to be a 
long day for him" we chuckled....

The riding is simply spectacular.  Early fall color, excellent roads 
(mosly), beautiful views, little to no traffic.  A couple of the hills 
are epic.  Bopple Hill is probably the worst (best).  Easily 20% for 
almost a mile, the promoters paint the names of all the registrants in 
spray paint across the road.  Which gives you someting to do while you 
suffer immeasureably.  Most resort to the "weave" up the hill, so it's 
pretty interesting trying to pick your line as you pass, but I saw only 
a couple walking.  I used a 38-28 (keeping my 32 in reserve), Jim had a 
34-28. Bobble is followed closely by another big climb up to the top of 
the course at about the 1/3 point.  Rest stops were to be had about 
every 10 miles.  They were all well staffed and supplied.  This was the 
third rest stop, and it was pretty apparent that Jim needed a bit of a 
break.  Jim had mentioned that his stomach was a bit off when we left, 
but I figured he was getting up the hills okay, so it couldn't be too 
bad.  But at this rest stop, he looked like death.  Still, he assured me

he was pretty much okay, just not feeling his best. 

Along with the climbs were some super decents.  It was in the going down

that it became apparent that Jim was not having a good day--he would lag

way behind on these fabulous descents.  Just before the half way point, 
I got my second flat.  Thank goodness for Jim's tube.  At the next rest 
stop, we spent a bit of time hanging out and chatting with other 
tourers.  One guy was moping about nursing a paired spoke wheel with a 
broken spoke.  No big deal, I assured him, do you have a spoke key?  
No.  In fact, out of the twenty or so riders there, we could only scare 
up one multitool with a spoke key that even began to look like it might 
work.  Some little puple aluminum thing that came out of a Craker Jacks 
box.  Managed to get the broken spoke out, and almost straighten the rim

(showing once again an argument against paired spokes).  Nearly good as 
new.  But it became apparent that, to this guy, his broken spoke was his

ticket to the short cut home and saved face--he turns back anyway. 

Moving forward, we leave the stop and I'm heading merrily down the road 
when I notice that Jim is nowhere to be seen.  Double back to the stop.

Apparently Jim has managed to put his bike into the big chainring, big 
rear cog combination and can't get it to shift down.  The old "I should 
have put one more link in that new chain" syndrome.  That was soon 
straightened out and we continued on; admonishing Jim to be careful of 
shifing into that combination again.  Soon we come to the other really 
nasty climb on this trip--Slitter Hill Road.  Once again we take the 
straight line trying to avoid the weavers in front of us.  Here, I 
couldn't tell that Jim was hurting as he comfortably twiddled along, 
passing several riders before the top.  But once we got to the flatter 
(only relative on this ride, anything less than a Ringwood wasn't really

considered a hill) sections it was apparent that Jim was not feeling his

oats. 

But we press on.  As the fog hadn't lifted, we were actually getting 
sort of cold at this point which seemed to add to Jim's general 
malaise.  Coming into another abrupt steep climb, Jim manages to shift 
into the big/big combination again (now his mind is failing along with 
his stomach), bringing us to another unscheduled stop.  Again, no harm, 
but it's a good thing he had a titanium frame--this would have ripped 
the dropout off a lesser bike. 

At about 70 miles, Jim notes that the altimeter reads about 7900 total 
feet.  _Only_ 30 miles and 3000 feet of climbing to go.  This seems 
nearly impossible to fathom. At this point, I was nearly ready to leave 
him to his own devices and forge ahead to get the car, but the road 
flattened out for a few and the sun was nearly ready to peek out a bit 
so it warmed up a tad, and Jim actually cracked a smile at the top of 
one of the lesser climbs.  It was clear that he was feeling a bit 
better.  I was relieved.  From here forward the ride became a lot more 
enjoyable for both of us.  With about 15 to go we caught up with a guy 
from Virginia.  Chatting and rolling along, the final miles were 
clicking by...  Until I heard a light metallic ping of metal on pavement

and then the clatter of something falling off a bike behind me.  
Suddenly, Virginia boy didn't have a pedal anymore.  Speedplay parts 
littered the road.  Eventually we found most of them and managed to put 
things back together (thanks to Jim's multi-tool) for the final limp 
home.  The last hill, Greisia, reputed to be nasty, was really no big 
deal and the final run back to the start was fun and fast.  Final stats 
were something like 104 miles, 10,800 feet of climbing, and 7.5 hours of

riding time.  Of course we didn't get back until nearly 5 (nearly 9 
hours road time), but there were still some cars in the parking lot and 
riders milling about.  We were given our "goody bags" complete with 
complimentary local wine, stickers, gloves, and "Bicycling Magazine" 
subscription offers, and ate a bit of the complimentary ziti dinner.  
Got home shortly after 7. 

It's a fabulous ride, but don't try it for your first century.  39-27 is

recommended gearing, but only if you're willing to weave or have very 
tough knees.  I never used the 32, but I'm sure I could have sold it for

several hundred dollars on more than one occasion if it were so simple.

Plan on 7 hours even if you're in top condition. Take two tubes and a 
good multitool.

And preregister.

Ernie

  

-- 
Ernie Bayles, Architect
209 Utica Street
Ithaca, New York  14850

607-275-3722 (tel and fax)


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