Page last modified: July 27, 2011

Experiencing Southern France on a Velo Couché

By Steve Friedlander

“It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it,”  I said to myself as I opened the gate to our rented villa in the heart of Provence and pedaled my Bike Saturday onto the narrow country lane that lead to the bakery in a nearby village. As the only person in our party of four that was crazy enough to schlep a bike all the way over to France, as well as being the first one to get up in the morning, it was my solemn duty to ride into the village early each morning and pick up fresh croissants at the local bakery. The route took me along narrow country lanes, barely wide enough for cars and bikes to pass one another, and through lush, green fields growing a variety of different crops.

It was the third time that I’d experienced the pleasure of cycling in this delightful part of the world. My first encounter with southern France occurred on a self-supported bike tour along the French Riviera and into the heart of Provence back in 1996. The second experience came in 2004 when I was part of a large group that rented canal boats and cruised along the Canal du Midi, which traverses southern France.  This time, I was spending a week with a group of friends in a large stone house – commonly described as a “villa” – a few miles west of St. Remy in the midst of southern France’s historical Provence region.

Each of this diverse set of experiences had been enjoyed from the seat of a recumbent – what the French call a “velo couché” –  derived from the French words for bicycle (velo) and lying down (couché).  Even though recumbents are quite rare in France (I have never seen any other ‘bents during the three times I was there.), the French affiliate of the IHPVA (International Human Powered Vehicle Association) does have a website (www.whpva.org/chapters/france/), and a quick Google search revealed a shop located south of Nimes that rents out Ice trikes and Sun E-Z1 recumbents. (Le Barjonaute: www.lebarjonaute.info/index.php) For those willing to put up with riding a wedgie, uprights bikes are generally available for rent in most towns of any size. (The guide book we used, Rick Steve’s Provence and the French Riviera, indicates where bike rentals are available.)

From Nice to Avignon

In September of 1996, I had the opportunity to join three other riders on uprights for an eight-day self-supported ride that started in Nice and finished in Avignon. Christopher, the most experienced cyclist in our group, had mapped out a 250 mile tour and had also booked rooms in small two and thee star hotels along the way, relying on Michelin’s regional map #527 (Provence-Alps-French Riviera) and the book France by Bike by Karen and Terry Whitehall.  I chose to take my fairly new Lightning P38, since it would be easier to transport than my other bike, a Tour Easy.

The adventure started at the Nice airport, where we drowsily unpacked and assembled our bikes and mounted our panniers after the all-night flight from New Jersey. Within a few minutes of riding we found ourselves in the midst of the hustle and bustle of the French Riviera on a glorious Sunday morning - cruising along Nice’s celebrated Promenade des Anglais (Englishman’s promenade), the promenade that runs between the beach and the wide, traffic-filled boulevard that leads from the airport to the center of town.  An easy five mile ride brought us to a small hotel, located near the city center a few blocks inland from the promenade.  Lunch was at a nearby snack bar named “Good Food,” followed by a stroll around town and a much-welcomed rest at the hotel.

Our first day of real biking was mainly along the coast, experiencing the world famous French Riviera. After taking care of a few last-minute preparations in Nice, we headed west along the Promenade des Anglais and continued along the blue Mediterranean past the resort cities of Antibes, where we stopped for lunch by the beach, and Cannes with its many hotels and condos strung out along the beach. Traffic thinned out beyond Cannes as we rode along the Corniche de Esterel that winds its way between coastal mountains and the sea. Were it not for some afternoon showers and low-lying clouds, the scenery, featuring views of inland peaks, scattered mansions tucked among the hills, and red cliffs dropping into the sea, would have been truly spectacular. After 48.7 miles, we arrived at our next hotel in the town of St. Raphael.

The rest of the tour took us inland away from the hustle and bustle of the Riviera, as we cycled along quiet country roads through small towns and villages, past olive groves and vineyards. Daily rides of 48 miles and 41 miles brought us to our overnight stops in Brignoles and Aix-en-Provence. One of the high points of the trip occurred when we stumbled upon a local festival in the village of Puylobier a few miles east of Aix, where the natives offered us a free lunch and filled one of our water bottles with wine.  The next high point was our brief stay in Aix-en-Provence, where we strolled along the tree-lined Cour Mirabeau – considered the perfect main street in the perfect small city – and had dinner in one of its many outdoor restaurants.

The trip’s low point came on day three when it rained heavily during the ride from St. Raphael to Brignoles, but it was not as bad as it could have been. Because of some mechanical problems, one of the guys had taken his bike to a shop for repair and rented a car for a couple of days. With the car serving as sag wagon, he was able to find our soggy bikes parked in front of a roadside inn, where two of us had stopped to warm up over hot soup, and gave us a ride to the next hotel in Brignoles – saving us from having to bike another 20 miserable miles.

After leaving Aix, the next few days of pedaling brought us to the famous historic sites of Provence, as well as into more hilly terrain. The 49.5 mile ride from Aix to St. Remy included a stop to see the Roman ruins at Glanum, consisting mainly of an arch and tower, a few miles south of St. Remy. The next day’s ride from St. Remy to Pont du Gard included a major climb up to the medieval ghost town of Les Baux, where we wandered among castle ruins and checked out the huge medieval siege weapons. From there we continued to Pont du Gard, one of the largest and best preserved Roman aqueducts. Considered one of the seven wonders of the world, it is one of the most impressive surviving Roman ruins to be found anywhere.  We checked into the Vieux Moulin (old mill) Hotel built on the riverside adjacent to the aqueduct.

The next day started with a visit to the aqueduct followed by a 19 mile ride to the city of Avignon, where we spent the next two nights. The main attraction in Avignon was the Palais des Papes, the grandiose palace that housed the Popes during the fourteenth century. After touring the palace in the morning, I took a 27 mile ride out to Chateau Neuf-du-Pape, the most famous of the Rhone valley wine villages.

In Avignon our small group split up, with Chris and Phil heading north to conquer Mt. Ventoux, which has gained notoriety as one of the more challenging climbs in the Tour de France, while Bill and I rented a car for the drive back to Nice. After picking up our bike boxes at the Nice airport and checking into a hotel, I figured I’d squeeze in one more ride before packing up the bike. The trip’s final treat was a leisurely 6 mile ride along the beach-side promenade and around the yacht-filled harbor of Nice, which looked magnificent in the late afternoon sun. The next morning we boarded a plane for the flight back to New Jersey.

Le Canal du Midi

The next experience in southern France came in 2004 when my fiancée Ellen and I were part of a large group that rented canal boats for a week-long cruise along the Canal du Midi, part of a canal system that crosses southern France from the Atlantic Ocean to the Mediterranean Sea. Built from 1667 to 1681, construction of the 150 mile long canal was considered by people in the 17^th century as the biggest project of its time. With 91 locks and a total elevation gain of 620 feet, the canal is still considered a masterpiece of both hydraulic and structural engineering. In recent years it has become a tourist attraction where people can rent various types of boats and cycle or walk along its towpaths.  A guide book for biking along the canal can be purchased at http://www.midicanal.fr/guidegb.html.

I went with a group of 48 people that rented several boats for a week and cruised leisurely along the canal for about 100 miles. The trip started with a flight from New Jersey to Toulouse via Paris. After spending a couple of days sightseeing in the medium-sized city of Toulouse, we boarded a charter bus for a one hour ride eastward to the quaint little town of Castlenaudery, where the boat rental company Crown Blue Lines has a base. From there we spent a week cruising eastward as far as another quaint little town called Portiragne, located near the Mediterranean coast.

High points of the trip included a visit to the medieval walled city of Carcasonne and, of course, riding a recumbent through villages, vineyards, and along the canal's towpath.  I took my folding Bike SatRday, packed neatly into its suitcase, along for the trip. The Bike SatRday is a compact short wheel-base recumbent with 16 inch wheels that was made for several years by Bike Friday, a company known for its folding bikes that cater to world travelers.  

Our boat was a comfortable cabin cruiser that provided transportation and room and board for a group of eight, as well as serving as a sag wagon for bikers. The boat charter company had a motley assortment of cheap mountain bikes available for rent that many of the people took on board. I was the only person in the group who had brought his own bike. Assembling and disassembling the Bike SatRday, as well as schlepping an extra, fairly heavy suitcase through airports, on to busses, and into several hotels, seemed like a lot of extra work at first. But after trying one of the rental bikes for a few miles and hearing others complain about their bikes, I concluded it was well worth it.

The main feature of canal travel is that it’s rather slow. The boats chug along at jogging speed - about 6 mph - and the existence of numerous locks on the canal can make the boat's average speed comparable to that of walking. This provides boat passengers with numerous options for doing their own thing. Sedentary types can sit back and relax on the boat, while others get off and walk or jog along the towpath to the next lock or village. With the boats having to spend a fair amount of time waiting at locks, a good walker can usually keep up with the boat.

Bikers can cruise leisurely along the towpath or venture away from the canal into nearby towns and villages. More ambitious cyclists (which I wasn't) can ride up into the neighboring hills and visit old castles and fortresses that were built by a religious sect known as the Cathars back in the middle ages. One of the advantages of canal travel is that you can be as active or inactive as you please. It helps, however, to have at least one person on board who is into boating to pilot the craft; and depending on the size of the boat, one or two other people are needed to hold the boat in position while it’s sitting in a lock. A diverse group of people can thus travel together on the same boat while each one does his own thing during the day.

The entire canal is bordered by a towpath that's lined with shady trees. But its surface varied considerably - from smooth asphalt to course gravel to narrow dirt paths lined by tall grass. The rough sections of the towpath were not much of a problem, however, as it was usually more interesting to bike away from the canal, where there are plenty of back roads leading through vineyards and quaint villages. It was generally easy to meet up with the boat again (without using our cellphones, which didn’t work well in France back in ’04) by riding along the towpath for a few miles until the boat was spotted.

A typical day would start with a couple of hours of cycling in the morning, followed by lunch on the boat and then perhaps a nap in the afternoon or turn at the helm as the boat cruised on to its destination for the day. The day's destination usually consisted of a small canal-side town - places like Bram, Carcassonne, Trebes, Homps, and Capastang - where there would be an assortment of other boats tied up to spend the night. For dinner, there were plenty of cafes and restaurants in the villages, with many of them overlooking the canal. The high point of the trip, both literally and figuratively, came after two days of cruising when we reached the larger town of Carcassonne.  After tying up the boat, we took a cab up to Old Carcassonne, a walled medieval town that dates back to the 3^rd and 4^th centuries – considered to be the largest reconstructed fortified city in Europe.

After spending a week on the canal, we enjoyed a couple of days in Paris before flying back to New Jersey.

La Villa en Provence

After 6 years of sitting idle in the garage, my Bike SatRday was eager for another adventure. The opportunity came in June of this past year when a friend located a villa in Provence that we rented for a week. The trip started with an overnight flight from New York’s JFK Airport to Nice, with Delta Airlines charging an extra $55 for the suitcase containing the bike. After arriving at the airport, Ellen and I rented a car and spent the first two nights in the nearby town of Vence, a lively little town tucked away in the hill country above Nice, and the next night at a funky hotel perched at the edge of the Gorge du Verdon, France’s version of the Grand Canyon, where we enjoyed a good dinner on the hotel terrace overlooking the deep canyon.

The next day started with a rigorous 90 minute hike down into the canyon, followed by more spectacular views as we drove westward along the canyon rim, a lunch stop in the charming village of Moustier, and another 2 hours or so of driving until we arrived at the villa.

The villa turned out to be in an ideal location - about 5 miles west of the quaint but tourist-filled town of St. Remy and about 15 miles south of the city of Avignon. The large stone house was on a narrow country lane surrounded by fields containing a variety of crops, with the small village of Mas Blanc des Alpilles less than a mile away. The area is blessed with an abundance of historical sites within 20 miles  – remnants of the Roman empire in Arles, Nimes, and St. Remy; medieval palaces and fortresses in Avignon, Les Baux, and Tarascon. It was a good opportunity to revisit some of the places I had visited back in ’96. The combination of quaint villages and bucolic scenery has inspired artists for centuries and has also made Provence a popular destination for bicycle tours.  For instance, VBT, a leading provider of bike tours, uses St. Remy as a base for one of its tours of Provence.

A typical day at the villa started with a one to two hour bike ride before breakfast, depending on how early I got myself out of bed. Using the Michelin map as a guide, I pedaled along bucolic country lanes, many of them lined with neatly spaced sycamore trees, from one village to the next. The villages of Mas Blanc, St. Etienne, and Maillane were all within five miles of the villa, as well as the larger towns of St. Remy and Tarascon. Extending the perimeter a few more miles, brought me to Graveson, Eyragues and Chateaurenard. The terrain was mainly flat to gently rolling hills, as I avoided riding south into the chain of hills known as the Chaine des Alpilles that extended east-west just to the south of our villa. Each ride included the mandatory stop to buy fresh croissants at a local bakery, the busiest place in the village at that time of day.

With fresh croissants, as well as a variety of cheeses, yogurts, fruit and cereal spread out on the kitchen table, we enjoyed leisurely breakfasts as we planned the day’s activities. These included car trips to see the ancient Roman amphitheaters in Arles and Nimes, the Roman aqueduct at Pont du Gard, neat stuff from the middle ages in Avignon and Les Baux, and a longer drive to explore Bonnieux and Rousillon, two of the hill towns east of Avignon that inspired the book and BBC TV series A Year in Provence. Many of these attractions were located within 20 miles of our villa and could just as well have been visited by bike for those energetic enough to do so. The evening entertainment generally consisted of visits to one of the nearby towns or villages to indulge in the Provencal cuisine.

The week’s longest ride came on Wednesday, which was the market day in St. Remy. The three ladies in our group decided it was time to head into town for some serious shopping at the extensive outdoor market place, while I figured this would be a good opportunity for a longer ride to see more of the surrounding countryside with its picturesque villages. I was accompanied on this ride by Eva, the neighbor’s dog who had befriended us for the week. She followed me out the gate and along the narrow road that lead to the village and a larger highway. Eva didn’t seem to have any trouble keeping up with my 10-11 mph pace along the somewhat bumpy back road, and I began to wonder how much longer she would accompany me. And would she then be able to find her way back and get around the locked gate that stood in front of her home?

After about three quarters of a mile, Eva left me at the village and I continued on alone, heading north toward Avignon through the villages of Maillane, Graveson, and Rognonas, then turning westward through the charming hillside village of Barbentane. I continued southwest along the Rhone River passing through Vallabregues and stopping at the larger town of Tarascon, where I interrupted the ride for a one hour visit to the Chateau de Tarascon, an imposing medieval castle built around 1400. After a satisfying lunch near the castle, the ride continued eastward along the edge of the Alpille hills into St. Remy, where I cycled around the town until I found a bike shop and purchased a new pump. At St. Remy I found a bike path that took me part way back to our villa. The path had a posted speed limit of 20, but thanks to a nice tail wind, my speed was more like 20 mph than 20 kph.

After finishing the 47 mile ride, I was looking forward to spending some quality time relaxing at the villa’s pool. When my partner Ellen informed me that our neighbor had come over and was searching for his dog Eva, I began to fear the worst – that I’d find myself entangled in the midst of a local crises for which I was responsible. I figured I’d better go over and tell the neighbor how his dog had followed me to the village that morning. As I walked over to his house, I pondered about how to explain the situation using my rather limited French vocabulary.  When I met the neighbor in his yard, it sounded like he was apologizing to me (in French) for his dog’s behavior, and much to my relief, Eva showed up in the yard. I never did find out how or where she was found.

After spending a week at the villa, Ellen and I headed for the coast, spending a night in La Ciotat, a small beach resort near Marseilles frequented by French people rather than foreign tourists. Our last four days were spent in Villefranche, another small, seaside town located between Nice and Monaco. Most of the roads along the hilly south coast of France seemed to be better suited for driving a Porsche than riding a slightly overweight recumbent. Nevertheless, I did enjoy a couple of short rides amidst magnificent coastal scenery – first along the beach-side promenade in La Ciotat and then from Villefranche to the nearby peninsular of Cap Ferrat.

All in all, taking a recumbent to France was definitely worth it, I thought as I grudgingly paid the extra 55 Euros (about $75) to check my bike onto the return flight.

Going down!

By Michael Heffler

We know the world is not flat!  There are hills and there are many good reasons to climb them.  More good news - for every hill you climb there is generally, at some point, an equal but opposite downhill.  After writing several pieces about climbing hills, I was asked to write something about going downhill.  Here it is!

Going down hills

                  when the road surface is smooth

                                  when you can see what’s in front of you

                                              when your grip is firm but not on the brake

    can be delightful! 

Flying down Federal Twist when no cars are on the road, and the road is clean, is exhilarating.  The wind whipping by, tears streaming from my eyes, the rush and the focus on what’s right ahead while moving at more than 40 miles per hour makes me shake my head and smile every time I reach Route 29.   We all tend to check our odometers to see what our maximum speed was.   It’s scary enough to capture one’s full attention, yet so much fun!

There are long, sloping hills that are just like a fine glass of wine.  You appreciate them and savor each part of the descent.  Rick Road is like this.  It’s a two mile downhill and just keeps going at a slow but steady pace down with a few turns and several terrific big horizon views.  Turkey Hill is a very different vintage.  No big views but several easy turns and short burst of acceleration mixed with lots of greenery and stretches where you bank into a gentle curve or two.  A big fruity Cabernet of a hill is the aptly named Sweet Hollow.  You descend for about two miles, there’s a short stretch where you even have to pedal, but most of it is steady, but not too fast, acceleration around woods and streams that have soft curves and a few twists.  You rarely touch the brakes or the pedals and you have enough speed and control to even see the wisteria painted on one of the homes.  By the way, don’t drink and go downhill!

There are some hills I will not go down.  I’m more than willing to climb them, but won’t take the risk of the descent.  Short Road and Tumble Falls are the first to come to mind.  Short Road is way too steep and I have no desire to experience flying over my handlebars.  Tumble Falls Road is steep enough and the surface is chopped up enough that nothing good would happen on a descent.

I have been down some hills on cold days where I was not sure what was ahead, either because the sunlight was dappled and I couldn’t see the road clearly or the road curved enough that I didn’t want to have too much speed and hit a sharp curve by surprise.  If the downhill was long enough, and the temperature cold enough that my hands started to cramp from sticking to the brake levers so closely.  Not fun!

Dappled sunlight plays tricks as do the streaming tears that come when my speed exceeds 30 miles per hour.  When the wind whips past my face, my glasses just don’t stop it from hitting my eyes and the tears start as a means of protection.  They protect my eyes but play havoc with my vision.  There will always be one too many reasons to have good brakes.

One of the most dangerous and most beautiful downhill roads in the neighborhood is Covered Bridge Road.  It starts on Route 523 on the way from Stockton to Sergeantsville.  You turn left onto Covered Bridge Road.  It ends on Lower Creek Road.  We often take it on my Wednesday night ride.

As soon as you make the left off of Route 523 you go up a very short, steep incline.  It’s a perfect opportunity to stand up and keep your momentum.  It is dangerous because it is short and steep and a car coming in the other direction has no way of seeing you.  Once you get over that hump you start descending slowly.  On your left is a beautiful view of a field going off into the horizon that over crosses the hills on the other side of the Delaware River.  The road twists to the left and you have another slow descent to a flat stretch, a short ascent and another nice descent.  This leads to a blind left turn – stay right – and another slow descent through the woods to yet another blind right turn with a pond on your right where I’ve seen ducks, geese and, once wild turkeys.  You have to be alert to appreciate the beauty and the potential hazards, but it’s worth it every time.

The nastiest little hill in the neighborhood

. . .  and its raucous cousin, Fretz                                     By Michael Heffler

Breathe!  There are schools of meditation that ask you to focus on your breathing.   They are pleasantly persistent, stating that being in the moment and watching your breath is the key to a calm and peaceful mind.  Meditation can be a powerful discipline to get one to focus, breathe and get a better understanding of how one’s mind works.  Just like climbing hills.

Sometimes you just have to wonder why we do certain things.  It’s not as if life doesn’t throw us enough curves.  Some people feel about hills the way W.C. Fields felt about small children.  Looking for challenging hills, to me, is fun.   I remember the most challenging hills in a very different way than I remember challenging people – the hills always have a crest.

Climbing hills, like facing real difficulties, is a matter of relative degree.  Personal strength, persistence and perseverance all make a tremendous difference in the outcome.  Hills, in contrast to life’s true difficulties, are bounded and, if it’s really too tough, you can get off the bike and walk.  While meditation provides a very different perspective to W.C. Fields, experience teaches that cursing can also be a timely motivator on the hardest sections of the hills.  We can learn from almost everyone!  

If you meander up Route 29 and enter Bulls Island State Park, cross over the Delaware River into PA using the walking bridge and make a right onto Route 32 you’ll come to Fleecydale Road about a quarter mile down on the left.  Fleecydale is a very pretty road.  It’s a hill on a hill.  As you climb up the very moderate hill in front of you, you’ll notice there is a very steep slope going from right to left.  There’s a lovely, oddly painted house that always catches my attention at the bottom.  As you continue to climb, and the climb is pleasant most of the way although the road itself is often a bit choppy with some gravel and sizable holes, you see some very attractive homes and notice that on the left there’s a creek and at times a steep drop.  On the right there are some homes regally overlooking the road.

About a half mile up Fleecydale you’ll see Fretz Mill Road on your right.  A bit farther on Fleecydale on the right you will pass Short Road.  Those not looking for a true challenge will not turn.  At the top of Fleecydale sits the Carversville General store, which is a great place for a rest stop.  Once you reach Carversville there are very few options, other than turning around, that don’t require some climbing.  Even with that, opting for Fretz Mill, or even more so, Short Road, is no one’s idea of a daily ritual.    

If you do decide to make the right turn on either Fretz Mill or Short Road you will get a true appreciation for your hill climbing gears.  The steepness of the grade on sections of Fretz Mill, and on all of Short, is not something one takes on lightly.  

I’ll start off with Short, the nastiest little hill in the neighborhood.  If you look at www.njbikemap.com on the Lumberville map, you’ll see Short Road off of Fleecydale.  You’ll see that it rises 180 feet in what looks like less than a quarter mile.  I estimate, given those figures, that the average grade is about 17 percent.  Averages can be deceiving.  There is only one spot – I didn’t say stretch, I said spot – on Short Road, right in the middle that approaches a single digit grade.  That spot is about the length of my bike.  The rest of Short Road is so steep that the first time I rode up it I could not keep my front wheel on the road.  I was sitting, putting everything I had into every pedal stroke, pushing down on my handlebars as best I could, afraid to stand up as I thought I’d fall backwards.  This is a great way to find out what adrenaline does to your body.  My heart was pounding.  After getting about ¾ of the way up the hill – again the half way point is that spot with a mere 9 percent grade – I had to dismount.  No small feat to accomplish without falling over when I was barely moving, my heart was beating like a drum, and my front wheel was several inches off the ground.  This was the first time I ever got off my bike going up a hill.  I walked up the last portion and saw the stunned faces of my friends who made it up and expected me to do the same.  They stood up as soon as they made the initial right turn. I didn’t know what to say.  

My heart had been pounding so hard that I knew I did the right thing.  But the right thing and getting off my bike on a hill wasn’t a combination that I had ever experienced.  I did not like this feeling at all.

The second time I climbed Short Road, the following season, I stood up as soon as I made the right turn.   I did not sit down again until I reached the top at which point I sat down, stopped the bike and breathed deeply for several minutes – in truth I gasped for air.  Did I mention that I was also in good hill climbing condition?  This little hill is nasty.   

I have taken several of the rides I’ve led up Fretz Mill.  Fretz Mill is longer than Short Road.  It has a couple of big twists in it and its steepest part is more than a 20% grade.  But, unlike Short, it is not that steep all the way.  Its steep part is like a surprise that you hope is over soon enough for you to be able to get the next pedal stroke in.  Then you pull yourself up the rest of the way glad that the surprise is over.  But you don’t soon forget it!

Inevitably someone either falls over or stops their bike on the steepest part of Fretz Mill.  Last time I took a ride up Fretz Mill I broke the group up into smaller groups of 4 to make sure there wasn’t a chain reaction based upon a fall or sudden stop.  The inevitable chain reaction was small.   I don’t take groups up Short Road anymore.  I remember how hard my heart was pounding and how far my wheel was off the ground.    I figure its far better to let others get heart attacks in their own good time.

‘Rat Pack’:  Meet the Chow Hounds            by Howie Luxenberg

    Most seniors remember the 1960 “Ocean’s Eleven” film with Sinatra, Dino and the rest of the Rat Pack.  It has also spawned a host of remakes, the latest being   Ocean’s 13 with the likes of Clooney, Pitt and Damon. The Princeton Wheelers have a better, newer version with their own matinee idols, more commonly referred to as “Chow Hounds 14.”  Led by Dennis Whitney, as our Danny Ocean, and host of others, this group of frolicking cyclists has taken a bit of a hiatus during the sub-freezing temperatures to build up a solid foundation and a bit of girth (a firmer tone for the ladies) to cope with the challenges of the upcoming riding season.

    Danny, Dennis to most of us, came up with a brilliant scheme to keep his motley crew together during the winter months, and, at the same time, sample the cuisine at some of the cozy, nearby eateries.  For his first effort, he chose “La Piazza” in Allentown, where many of his rides originate. Those gabbing, sipping vino and nibbling on the menu favorites were Lee Pisane, Lenore Beckley, Marilyn Saywell, Dennis, Chris Cook, Gina Raimondo, Herb Cohen, Walt Mander, Al Porter, Erich Wisetschlaeger, George Foradori, Larry Chestnut, Mary Foley and yours truly.

    More than two hours of gossiping about family, politics, and, of course, where Dennis will be taking us to our next food fest made for a wonderful afternoon.  Some of the gang had just returned from holiday vacations, while others, including Lenore and Larry, will be heading to Florida for sunshine and a bit of biking in the warmer climate.  I’m also happy to report that Mary has returned from her biking injuries and looks to be in top form for 2010.

Taking the Scenic Route: NJ to Mass on a Bike . . . . & 8 Ferry Boats

By Steve Friedlander

As a New Jersey resident who grew up in New England, I’ve made the trip to the Boston area and points north countless times by car. A sizeable chunk of my holiday and vacation time has been spent on interstate highways 287, 95, 91, 84, and 90, often times stuck in traffic. Now that I had recently retired and had some time on my hands, I figured that making the journey from my home in central Jersey to my brother near Boston on a recumbent bike would be far more scenic, adventurous, and hopefully fun. 

The more popular bike routes between the New York City and Boston metro areas, such as those mapped out by the Adventure Cycling and the East Coast Greenway associations, as well as the annual AIDS rides, all follow inland routes that avoid the coast. This avoids the more congested urban areas, but also avoids many of the most scenic routes and interesting attractions in this part of the world, which are to be found mainly along the coast – old seaports, picturesque harbors, sandy beaches, and off-shore islands. In order to take the coastal route, however, one has to get off the bike occasionally and take some of the many ferry boats that criss-cross the waters off Long Island and southern New England. 

This of course is part of the fun. The two best ways to travel along the coast, after all, are probably on a boat and on a bike, preferably a recumbent. In recent years there has been a proliferation of ferry boats that ply the waters off southern New England and New York harbor. These newer boats tend to be swift catamarans that travel at over 40 miles an hour but do not take cars. All of them do, however, accommodate bikes for a few extra dollars, with helpful crew members equipped with bungies to help passengers load, unload, and secure their bikes. To take full advantage of the many ferry connections available, it’s best to leave the car at home and travel by bike.

My trip from Hamilton, NJ, located near Trenton, to the Boston suburb of Weston covered 433 miles over 9 days on a bike and included 8 ferry boat crossings, as well as 4 rail trails I encountered along the way. The high points included visits to the Hamptons, Newport, RI, Martha’s Vineyard, and Cape Cod. I chose to travel during the latter half of May, an ideal time for bicycle travel in New England. By this time, most of the summer-only ferries have already started operating for the season, even though the tourist season hasn’t really begun yet. Accommodations at motels and B&Bs are easy to obtain in the last minute and generally cheaper than during the summer season, particularly on weekdays. Traffic is lighter, temperatures are moderate, and the long days leave plenty of daylight for early evening rides.

The tough choice was deciding which vehicle to use for the journey. My two bikes consist of an Easy Racer Gold Rush and a Lightning P38. They are both classic bikes, and I love them both. The Lightning is equipped with an F40 nose cone, which results in average speeds that tend to be about 1.5 to 2 miles faster than the Gold Rush with its Zzipper fairing. The Gold Rush on the other hand, with its low bottom bracket, would be more suitable for riding through various cities along the route, which included downtown Boston and New York City. In addition, my 11 year old Lightning was beginning to show various signs of aging, and I felt the Gold Rush would be more dependable. Much as I hated to forego the Lightning’s extra speed, I decided to go with the Gold Rush. (This turned out to be the right choice. I rode the Lightning on my next over night journey, and the seat frame cracked after a day of riding. Luckily, this did not prevent me from riding another 50 miles to get home.)

What next?

After an uneventful trip back to New Jersey by car, it wasn’t long before I started thinking about the next cycling adventure. I’m certainly hoping to cover some of the same ground again in the future. For one thing, it would make a lot of sense to drive out to eastern Long Island, park at one of the ferry terminals, and start the ride from there. After exploring the coast of southern New England, including a few islands, one could then return via the other ferry terminal on eastern Long Island.

If the logistics work out, I’d also like to do another coastal ride all the way to Maine. By relying more on ferry boats to get to Boston (like taking ferries from Montauk to Block Island to Newport to Providence, for instance) and not doing Cape Cod, the total biking distance wouldn’t be much further.

As for riding across the entire USA, fuggeddaboutit, as I’d probably get bored and can think of better things to do for two months. Cycling across Europe seems like it would be far more interesting. I keep getting advertisements in the mail for river boat cruises through Europe. The main “river route” starts in Holland, goes up the Rhine, along the Main, and then down the Danube toward the Black Sea. When looking at glossy cruise brochures, I can’t help but think it would be more fun to do the route by bike, starting around Amsterdam and possibly going as far as Budapest. I’ve noticed that guide books for cycling along the Rhine and Danube rivers are available, so the trip should be doable. Alternatively, a less ambitious European adventure would be to fly to some place where recumbent rentals are available, such as London or possibly Holland, and do a tour around that area. Maybe some day???   

Climbing Hills       By Michael Heffler

        Editor's Note:  The following piece is the fifth in a series by the author.     The preceding 4 submissions can be read by going here.

Why do we do it? 

You can go so much faster on flat roads.  It’s much less work. There’s got to be reasons….

Some people want to go fast.  Flat roads accommodate that nicely.  You can focus on the wheel in front of you and hammer away.  At the end of the ride both the odometer and your endorphins will make you feel good.

Hills are different.

There are people who can speed up hills.  I’m not one of them.  I’m in it for beauty. I’m also, just not that fast.  I like what I see and I like to go at just the right pace to see it, generally.  There are those hills that are steep enough that I’m not looking at much more than what’s right ahead of me.  I can’t tell you what’s on the side of those roads.  In the moment, I am focused on how much to push or conserve to make sure I get up to the top.  And you can’t always be sure where the top is – between curves and angles it’s often a best guess.

But that’s just the really steep ones.  When you climb hills you get to the prettiest parts of the country.  There are streams floating down while you’re climbing up.  The trees, the fields, the flowers and all the tame and wild creatures rustle around while you pump, pedal, watch and wonder.  There’s much less traffic – more animals than cars – and much more quiet – a majestic quiet can play and I realize how infrequently I hear that.

When you go fast you count miles per hour.  When you climb there are things you can measure – the hill’s grade or its length – but I find there’s something else, something that’s not measured with a number.  Some things are not measured with a number.  They are measured by what you choose, or don’t choose to do.  Like beauty, they’re in the eyes of the beholder.

Hills as stories, or hills as metaphors:

These give hills their real angles.  The hills we climb on bikes are generally of our choosing – at least if you are the ride leader or on your own and not lost.  Off the bike, the hills we encounter can be anything from everyday problems to tragedies, illness in ourselves or loved ones, conflicts, emotions that we lose control of, or difficult people.  When I cycle up hills these problems are far from my mind.  When I confront these problems it’s good to know I can climb hills.  At some point, if I can maintain the right motion and the right mindset, I’ll get over the hump…and there’s always one more hill.  You just don’t always know how long and steep it’s going to be.

When do I get out of the saddle?

Now here’s a question that gets asked a lot.  There are some points on some hills where you have to stand to deliver.  When there is a short steep section it often pays to stand up.  The extra weight on the pedals gets you over the steep stretch.  The trade-off is getting past the difficult stretch knowing it will drain you for an equal period while you recover from the extra effort.   Sometimes you just have to; the only other option is getting off the bike because the steepness limits your options.  For longer stretches, if you have the leg strength, it always pays to remain in the saddle.  It usually ends up more of a marathon than a sprint.  Retaining your reserves is generally the better bet.

 There are always exceptions. 

One local hill is so steep that the first time I climbed it I couldn’t keep my front wheel down.  I feared that if I tried to stand up I’d go over backwards. The hill never relented, my adrenaline shot up and I ended up getting out off the bike because my heart was pounding so hard I went with Shakespeare and figured discretion was the better part of valor.  Getting out of the pedals when the bike is not moving is a feeling you don’t soon forget. Second time up that hill I stood up the entire length.  When I got to the top and stopped I was breathing so hard my chest hit the front handle bars as I gasped for air. 

First time was a surprise.  Second time was purely for the challenge.

One more thing about challenge:

PARADISE IN NEW EGYPT

By Howie Luxenberg   10/’09

    Anyone fortunate enough to join Dennis Whitney’s Allentown ride each Wednesday morning gets a taste of paradise, New Egypt style. That happens to be the place where cyclist extraordinaire Mary Foley resides.

    These days our gifted cyclist, who was injured in an early fall biking accident, confines part of her routine each Wednesday to providing by far the best gourmet snacks to hungry riders seeking refuge from the chilling winds while winding their way through the back roads of south Jersey.  Mary’s magnificent home is nestled in the woods where only deer and antelope dare to roam, and, of course, a few of us guys and dolls who are lucky to call Mary a friend.

     Her banana bread, muffins and exotic coffee are nothing short of spectacular, and her smiling, friendly demeanor makes everyone welcome.  Mary promises to soon shed her crutches and to be back riding with us by year-end.

      Should you ask George (Foradori), Dennis, Lenore (Beckley) or any of the other pedaling jockeys where they would most like to be on a Wednesday, Mary’s place wins hands down.

       Mary, we thank you for just being you and for opening your home on these cold mornings.   Hurry back.                     

                 Howie

Road Biking New Jersey           By Tom Hammell

For the past 2 years I have worked on a book called “Road Biking New Jersey”. This required me to research, map out, photograph and document a lot of different bike rides all over this state. It was a lot of work but it was also a lot of fun and reaffirmed by belief New Jersey is a great place to ride a bike. Now that the book is done and out I would like to share some of my experiences and observations with the members of the club to show you all the great things about riding in New Jersey.

The Weird Roads of New Jersey

When I tell people I am a bike rider from New Jersey they usually ask me if it is hard to find good roads in this crowded and congested state. My answer is the state’s long history and crowded nature actually helped make biking better in this state. New Jersey’s 200+ years of constant population growth forced the creation of a chaotic unorganized mess of roads that frustrates most drivers today. This mess that is the New Jersey road system is actually a good thing for bikers. There are lots of interconnected roads far from the main highways that are fun to ride and have some real character. Almost every road has an interesting history and a story to tell. This is why New Jersey is the birthplace of weirdness as documented in the popular cult magazine Weird NJ. Let me take you around the state and show you some of the great places that I found to ride.

The North East

The northeast part of the state, especially by New York, is one of the most crowed parts of the state. The opening credits of the Sopranos will give you a good tour of some of the uglier places here. That doesn’t mean there isn’t good biking to be found. Around the George Washington Bridge for example is an interesting contrast. This is a very urban area with a lot of traffic but there are also some great roads here. There is a dedicated bike path across the GW Bridge that you can use to get to the Hudson River Greenway that will let you ride along the river in Manhattan all the way down to Battery Park. If you stay on the Jersey side you can ride along the Palisades or if you don’t mind a few hills head north on 9W into New York.

A little west of the GW Bridge is Saddle River in Bergen County, home to a number of actors and sports stars. This is a densely populated area but the roads are wide enough to accommodate both bikes and cars so if you don’t mind a little urban riding this isn’t a bad place to ride. There are a number of reservoirs in the area like Lake Tappan and Woodcliff Lake that offer a nice contrast to the residential landscape. The most interesting thing here is all the nice houses along Saddle River Road. Even the small ones that you can see from the road make you see how the other half spends there money.

Only 26 miles from midtown Manhattan is the Great Swamp. This is a migratory stop over and home to many different birds so if you like to see some nice flora and fauna there are some nice views to be had here. There are also a lot of nice hiking trails so if you have time after you ride the Wildlife Observation Center in the Great Swamp is worth checking out.

The North West

In contrast to the northeast the northwest part of the state is surprising rural. It’s also very hilly. Most of the climbs are in the 200 to 300 foot range but there are a few 600+ foot climbs if you go looking.  There are routes that minimize the climbing but there are very few flat roads so you need some hill training before you ride around here.

Don’t let the hills scare you away from this area because it is a beautiful place to ride and worth the pain of the constants ups and downs. One of my favorite roads in this area is Old Mine Road along the Delaware. This is one of the oldest roads in the country.  It was used in colonial times to transport ore from the copper mines along to the Delaware all the way up to what is now Kingston, New York. Much of the original road has been modernized and is now part of U.S. Route 209. However, the part by the Delaware Water Gap is still intact & maintains its rural charm. The road is surrounded by acres and acres of state parks and has very little traffic even in the summer.

Another great area to ride around is Newton New Jersey. Here you will find the infamous “Shades of Death” road that has so many interesting stories, which always end in some one dying in a horrendous manner. Despite the scary legends this is a very quiet and scenic area that is fun to explore. The Morris Area Freewheelers have a couple of rides around here that are worth checking out.

Let’s not forget the area north of Frenchtown. If you like hills this is where you should head. Yes some of the climbs are tough but you will find some of the best scenery in the state here. I am always beat after riding here but I am never sorry I did the ride. I recommend checking out some of Michael Heffler’s rides to Bloomsbury or Merrill Creek or Laura Lynch’s rides out of Pluckemen for a tour of this area. 

As you can see there is no shortage of places to explore by bike in New Jersey.  The two years I spent exploring the roads in this state just made me realize just how many more places I have yet to explore. Next time I will talk about some of the better places to ride in Central and South Jersey.

Part 2  - Last month I talked about the Northern part of the state. This time let me share with you some of the highlights of the central and southern part of the state.

Central Jersey

This is the place where most of us in the club ride and I think it is the most diverse part of the state. Whether you like hilly or flat rides there is plenty here to satisfy any rider.

For those who want scenic views and don’t mind a few hills there is no better place to ride than the Sourlands. The Sourlands is filled with rural farms, forested land, small streams and a lot of beautiful back roads. Starting by the canal in Rocky it’s easy to put together a number of nice rides to places light Sergeantsville, Round Valley or Neshanic Station. Yes this area will require you to do some climbing but there are no real killer hills here so don’t let your fear of climbing keep you away from this area.

If you are looking for less hilly rides then just join the club rides going out of Cranbury, or Mercer County Park. Although these rides usually end up with a rest stop Clarksburg, Allentown it’s amazing how many different ways there are to get to each of these places. Of course there are also a lot of different roads that will take you to New Egypt or Chesterfield some other good destinations.

In the southern part of central Jersey you will find a lot of farms and small towns with quiet roads. If you have done the metric or the century at the event then you have seen some of these roads but there are plenty more to explore.  The land down here is a patch work of farms and forested land and the towns, like Vincentown, New Lisbon, and Tabernacle, are a little more rustic so it is a fun area to ride in.  Check out some of the rides out of Bordentown and you will see why these roads are popular with a lot of bikers.

Let’s not forget about the beaches which are easily with in riding distance. If you haven’t ridden to Belmar and back then you’re missing a great ride.  Sandy Hook is also another good beach ride to do. Both these rides can be on the long side depending on where you start but there is nothing better then a rest stop on the beach.           

South Jersey

South Jersey is flat, rural, and a little strange. After all it is the home of the Jersey Devil .Its main features are its vast pineland forests and its many square miles of farmlands. The area also some very nice less-crowed beaches in the eastern section. It is very different from the other parts of the state and in some ways doesn’t seem to be part of New Jersey at all.

This area is very rural and visiting some of the towns here seems like going back in time. This is a very flat area with a lot of nice forested land and some scenic rivers to ride along. One of the nicer areas down here is around Batsto where there are enough towns to find a couple of rest stops and but very little traffic since most of the area is dedicated to park lands. It’s easy to get lost down because of the lack of any major towns or landmarks so make sure to take a good map with you.

If you go a little further south you will get to the area where the South Jersey Wheelmen ride. This area is full of large industrial farms and roads with almost no traffic. I highly recommend attending one of the South Jersey Wheelmen events down in this area since they have some nice rides that take you through the better parts of Salem and Cumberland County. Riding in this area you will see why New Jersey is called the Garden State. 

Another nice area is the south west part of the state along the Delaware. Here there is some lot of little creeks and marshland that are fun to ride through. A good place to start a ride around here is Fort Mott State Park where you will see the ugliest lighthouse in New Jersey, Finn’s Point light which is looks like a large stove pipe. There are an abundance of nice roads around here so no matter which way you head you will always find a nice ride.

Although you may have to drive a little father to get to the rides in the southern part of the state the different nature of the rides down there make it worth doing every now and then for a change of pace.

The Adventure Continues…

Writing the book about road biking in New Jersey has made me realize how many great places there are to ride in this state. Even though the book is done and published I still continue to explore the state and look for new places and roads to ride on. Back in May I found a nice route through the towns of Roebling and Florence. This month I will be up north by Chester exploring Schooley’s mountain.

So if you are tired of doing the same old rides try to exploring another area of the state. As I have found no matter what type of riding you like you there are plenty of good rides to be found. On my blog (http://www.frisket.blogspot.com/) I will continue to post my diary of rides around the state and the interesting things that I find. You will also find some ride sheets for nice rides that I have done but didn’t get included in the book for lack of space. The list of rides sheets is small now but will continue to grow as I continue my exploration of the state.

When is a race not a race?  

When it is a Cyclosportif!                   By Brian Ignatin

If you’d like to experience a day in the life of a pro cyclist without the elbow-throwing mayhem of a field sprint or without a cigar-chomping Belgian Team Director screaming at you out of a car window, then perhaps you should try a Cyclosportif.  

Cyclosportif is a Euopean term for organized, mass-participation, timed recreational cycling events .   A Cyclosportif falls between a traditional road race and a non-competitive ride such as a charity ride or century. 

Typically held annually, Cyclosportif participants experience the organization, atmosphere, and challenges of a pro event, while riding with friends, at their own pace.   They get to ride through the barricades, past the announcers, and across the finish line, with spectators lining the entire course.

Though not races in the traditional sense, Cyclosportif riders wear race numbers and timing chips, so finishing times can be recorded.  There is usually an upper time limit within which the course must be completed, and the front runners are often competing for exclusive prizes. 

The courses are challenging, and frequently take place on courses that comprise classic professional races, often featuring mountains, long climbs, or other difficult conditions.  Depending on the event, roads may be closed or open to normal vehicular traffic, but most courses are well marked and/or marshaled.  Riders are able to use feed zones positioned along the route; mechanical and medical support are also provided.

Cyclosportifs are cycling’s equivalent of running’s marathon; as with the 26-mile running event, rather than racing other participants, cyclosportif riders challenge themselves in a personal battle against the course, the distance, and ultimately the clock.  While some faster riders often push the pace, the majority of participants are typically happy to complete the distance within the allotted time.

Some Cyclosportifs attract thousands of participants- L’Etape du Tour, held each July over a mountainous stage of that particular year’s Tour de France, offers places to 8,500 riders.   The Amstel Gold Race and Ronde van Vlaanderen offer Cyclo Sportifs of varying differences over the race route, the day before the professional race. 

While there are hundreds of Cyclosportifs each year in Europe, there is only one held in the US, the Univest Grand Prix Cyclosportif is held in nearby Souderton, PA.  2008 marks the 11^th year of the event, and will be held on September 6^th.  For more information, see www.cyclosportif.com

Why My Son's Superhero Rides a Bike
Read this inspirational article by member Sonya Aronowitz

I’m helping to clear up the remains of the week strewn on my 5th grader’s floor. Amongst the detritus, is an early draft of a novella Raphael (aka the self-titled Literature Boy) has been working on at school. I glance to the end of his piece and the illustration catches my eye: it’s the hero on top of a bicycle, pedaling his way furiously away from the villains and into a new set of adventures in the next chapter.

Well, having a hero ride a bike does make sense. You see, both my children witnessed the huge personal leap I made in this past year, and which took me from 0 miles on a bike (and huffing and puffing up the stairs) to 300 miles in Israel in a matter of months. The ride in Israel featured inching up mountains of biblical proportions (I said a special prayer of thanks for the granny gear and for Morris who kept on my tail and made sure, even for just his sake, I didn’t give up). And then there was the desert dry heat of up to 106 degrees, where a bus shelter provided an unlikely oasis, and my water supply ran dangerously low.

It was a magnificent trip. I connected in a new way with a land that I had bussed, driven and walked a little on before – for a great environmental cause. But at least as most important was the process of my conversion from non-cyclist to cyclist. I began with early morning spin classes in the winter -- in the company of “Gandhi and The Spinners” – my name for the group with the lean, wise-looking bald guy who sat front and center in the class. (I have to mention that exactly on the one-year anniversary of my first spinning class – and how well I remember hobbling bow-legged into work that morning one year ago thinking that my derriere would never recover – I took one of the spin bike’s pedals right off the bike attached to my shoe. Mechanical failure? Of course not…I was just spinning so damn hard!!)

My kids actually saw little of my progress through the winter and early spring last year. Other Free Wheelers, however, may remember me as the woman who decided to take on a first (borrowed) road bike and clips – all on the same day. Naturally my first fall of the day occurred before we had even left the parking lot in Cranbury. Clipless pedals or not, I didn’t even know how to stop on the bike without being able to put two feet down. In fact, I really tested Norman Batho’s strength when I fell into him at one red light. It doesn’t bear thinking about the domino effect on the rest of the tight group if he hadn’t held his own against me. I’ll also never forget the kindness of all those Cranbury riders on that day who applauded me for arriving back in one piece…and (again thanks to Norman) without a search party. And I do remember with some pride, that even though I was a complete novice, I always had the right gear, thanks to my wonderful colleagues, Jane and Jerry.

My conversion to cycling was akin to a baptism of fire. My children didn’t come out with me when I cycled, but what they did see, though, was the blood and the wounds from the falls that I took. And they knew that I was getting right back on the bike and working hard at those 6 am classes.

The journey to the desert and back taught me some important lessons about myself, chief amongst them that for the first time in my life, I was able to take on a physical challenge. I felt worthy of the admiration of the plane load of tourists from Las Vegas who had seen us as they crisscrossed the country on their tour bus. I discovered strength, courage and perseverance that I knew I had through other areas in my life, but had never tested myself in a purely physical way. At a low point, when I found myself quite alone in the desert, sucked into the middle groove of the group with no one visible ahead of me and no one behind me coming up, I did not give up: in fact, when the Bedouin woman crossed the desert highway on the back of her donkey, I didn’t even cross my mind to think of asking her if she would consider exchanging her donkey for my bike. (Translating “your ass for mine” into bedouinese might have got me into trouble anyway.)

I’ve also learned locally here that cycling amidst great beauty can elevate me to a great sense of the grandeur of nature, the great scheme of things. (Of course, I’m referring to the flat and downhill versions of beauty. Who has the extra brainpower and energy to deal with the spirit ual dimension – unless sending some direct prayers upwards – on a climb?) And this philosophical level brings me back to Raphael. I’ll always remember his epiphany as a 3-year old tot on his trike as I pushed him along in Village Park. “I wonder what it’s all about” he said. The “it,” so he revealed, was life itself.

In the meantime, I’ve just discovered that that his biking hero story was written before I got on my bike, so I can’t claim that my own adventure influenced him putting his hero on a bike. (“I wrote that when I was young,” says this 10-year-old, with the disdain of an author who knows that only his more mature works are worth a read.)

But I have a great maternal glow nonetheless. At back-to-school night this year, when I had to write down how Raphael might describe me, I reached for words such as kind, loving, empathetic. I found out later that week that I was wrong, in fact completely wrong. For according to Raphael, in his estimation, there was only one word to describe me: I was simply (and shockingly) “cool!” I was stunned. The bike ride and my training was the reason I’d entered the land of the cool.

I don’t think you’ll ever, even years from now, catch me on even as much as a B ride. I’ll sooner dance off another half an ounce than get a carbon bottle holder. And I have my children, work and other great interests to keep me from getting in the saddle consistently enough to call myself a cycling nut (oops, I mean enthusiast.) But I’ll happily cycle on my own “cool” pathway in life, by showing my kids that getting up from those falls and persevering is part of life’s journey – while wearing the right, cool gear of course.

Mount Washington Ride Report
By Jud Hand

On February 1, 2006 at about 8 am, the last of 600 spots on the Mt. Washington hillclimb was taken. I got to my computer about 9 am, and all I could get was a spot far down the waiting list. Fortunately for me, the organizers decided to hold second race, which they called Newton's Revenge, for those who couldn't get into the regular race.

So on Saturday, July 8, 2006, six weeks before the main race, I once again was riding up the mountain. The 7.6-mile Auto Road is open to cyclists only for races and practice rides. It climbs about 4800 feet and averages 12 percent overall. This climb attracts riders from throughout the country and overseas and is probably one of the two or three best-known uphill bike races in the U.S., along with Mt. Evans in Colorado and one or two others. Counting this July's race, I’ve now cycled to the top of Mt. Washington six times. Hands down, the weather this time was the best I've ever seen.

The 180 or so riders who lined up by the Auto Road toll house could not believe what organizer Mary Power was saying, "Fifty-Seven degrees at the summit, winds at 3 mph." Just four weeks earlier, on the practice ride, I had encountered sustained 65 mph winds, 38-degree temperatures , 20-degree wind chills, fog, rain and hail near the top. My wife said I had turned into a human popsicle. When someone says the weather is unpredictable, it is an understatement. This time, the weather was as close to perfect as the mountain ever gets. There would be no excuses based on weather.

My strategy was to conserve energy at the bottom. Veteran climbers know that the mountain can be divided into two very different environments. The first four miles is sheltered in trees, steep, but usually protected from the winds. At mile post four, the road takes a sharp left-hand bend around "the Horn," as the trees disappear and the pavement turns to dirt and gravel. You begin a slow slog up a steady 15 percent stretch in the dirt, a rock wall on the right, a sheer drop of what looks like a couple of thousand feet on the left.

In terms of training, racers concentrate on weight and power. The lower your weight, the higher your power, the better you climb. People look for every way they can to shave pounds off themselves, their clothing and their bikes. They also work on sustaining as much power as they can for the 1-2 hours it takes most to reach the top. I elected to race with my Power Tap powermeter, knowing it adds 600-700 grams and about 30-40 seconds to my time. I did this for two reasons: First, I wanted to have the data from the race to review. Second, I thought the power readings would help me pace myself.

The race is divided into four waves. The first top notch wave, those who have completed the course in an hour and 20 minutes or less, went off first. A small cannon, it's too loud to be called a toy, goes off for each wave, which leave five minutes apart. I was in the 45 and up wave, which leaves last, 15 minutes after the top notchers. I later learned there were 67 people from my group who finished, out of 174 total finishers. The older group is almost always the largest in the race.

Soon the cannon blasted for my wave and, with a ringing in my right ear, I clipped in and began riding the couple of hundred yards before the climb really begins. The grade hits immediately. It can seem shockingly steep to newcomers. Invariably, many take off too quickly at the beginning, going far beyond any sustainable pace. I saw many of them in the next few miles, either riding at a crawl, walking their bikes, or stopped altogether at the side of the road. I'm smarter than that, or so I thought at the time.

For the first half mile, I stuck to my plan, as many riders glided past. But after a while, I decided to ignore the power readings and go on feel. I was feeling good. We'd see about later. During the four miles to the Horn, I passed about a dozen people in my wave, then began picking up the slower riders from the earlier waves. I had finished this race in 2003 in 1:44:08 and last year in 131:06. My goal was to break 1:30 this year and, until last month, I dreamed of getting in the 1:25 range. Those dreams got shelved pretty much when a project at work slashed into my training time and left me chronically sleep deprived. My June miles ended up as low as my February miles. We'd see after the Horn how much this would affect my ride.

As I rounded the Horn, I became aware of the heavy breathing of another rider right behind me. I later learned this guy was wearing a yellow jersey with red polka dots. As the pavement turned to dirt and we hit a sustained 15 percent stretch, he and I stayed together and slowly gained on several riders ahead, including a guy in blue jersey who I later learned had started in a wave 10 minutes before and a guy in our wave with one of those Serotta jerseys with an "S" on the back. The warm air and lack of wind felt weird, given the polar conditions just four weeks earlier. My low gear of 26-34 came in handy on the dirt section, as I was able to spin more quickly and gain traction that way. But my legs were protesting loudly. I simply was running out of power.

Looking at the power meter data at home, it was plain what happened. I did the first four miles at basically a 1:20 pace, or top notch level. But my pace dropped to about a 1:40 after that. My heart rate stayed in the low to mid 170s, which is 90-95 percent of my 185 max (don't try this with coronary problems), so I was working just as hard. My legs sold out. Polka dot guy glided past at about mile six and "S" guy fell in behind him. I later learned that the polka dot guy finished about two and a half minutes ahead of me, "S" guy about a minute and a half ahead. I knew if I tried to keep up with them any longer, I’d blow up completely and lose any chance of even breaking 1:30. It was all I could do to stay with the blue jersey guy from the earlier wave.

Somehow I made it to the final 500 feet, where the course tilts to 22 percent and you have to negotiate a hard right, followed by a hard left, before it finally flattens a bit for the last 50 feet or so. Blue guy was right in front. I was determined to stay on the bike this time and I pushed through the turns and actually accelerated to the finish line. I saw my time in the low 1:29 range and I pumped my fist in satisfaction over the line. I later learned that my heart rate had spiked at that moment at 183, the highest I had recorded this year.

Turns out I finished in 1:29:20, nearly a 2 minute improvement from last year. The weather was much better this year, so my times were probably equivalent. On the other hand, my poor pacing and inability to train properly in June probably cost me this year. With better pacing and more time to train, I think could shave off yet another couple of minutes. Maybe. Overall, I was 11 of 37 in the 45-49 male age group and 55 of 174 finishers overall.

Next year is the 750-mile ultra long distance Paris-Brest-Paris ride and I probably won't ride Mt. Washington. But there's always 2008. I'll be in a higher age group then. Maybe I can get a better time. You never know if this year is going to be the best one.

Interested in learning more about this event?

Check out the webpage @ www.newtonsrevenge,com (race results are posted there as well).

The TinMtn.org site is a good resource as well

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