Which brings up a point I failed to bring out yesterday – unlike the previous days where we stayed in two primary groups, the course spread us out over more than 12 – 15 miles throughout the course of the day. As has been the case each day, we had set service stops – this was no exception. Dennis managed to get to each stop before the riders, stay until the last and still make the next. There may have been a moment or two where the speedometer and the road side signs were not exactly in sync.
Today’s ride took us inland for the majority; but after the hard riding yesterday, everyone was really looking forward to an easy ride. Carter, the master organizer had everything down: we knew our turns, our stops, even where railroad tracks to cross would be. So when he told us the profile, everyone was happy.
“No worries today, it’s all flat boys, except for the climbs”, he staunchly proclaimed.
This produced the kind of look normally reserved for the statements made on infomercials – you know, the one with the pasty faced, half dead looking guy trying to convince you that the miracle tablet will suddenly make you _________ (fill in the blank).
As we were climbing our forth mountain of the day, those flat climbs just didn’t quite fit the enthusiasm with which it was delivered.
Today also gave us a new member nickname. Having spent the first three days like a first year colt, hobbled from running free, Will threw caution to the wind at went with the break. Six strong, and on the gas, we powered up the climbs and opened it up on the flats. On the third climb, I rolled up next to him, the heart rates screaming, he looked over at me and said, “It’s different up here!”
“Fun, isn’t it”, I asked
“Yeah”
“Hard, isn’t it”
“Yeah”
Just after the first stop, while climbing the “easy” 12-mile climb we noticed that he was no longer with us. One moment he was there, the next he was off the back.
Poor young kid, I thought, he just was not ready to play with the big boys. 40-miles later we arrived at the last stop – only to find Will on the phone,
“My tire is rubbing on the frame” he stated – yeah, like that could happen, silly boy.
Well, apparently when the brand new bike comes apart at the rear-end the tire can, in fact rub against the frame – in fact the frame can completely stop the tire. Unless you’re a 26 year old powerhouse.
Several phone calls later we had managed to derive a plan. A couple of Bob’s friends were jumping on a train to join us for the final day – they swung by and picked up another bike (god help us tomorrow, now that he has had a rest day).
But I mentioned a new nickname; it seems that at the second stop he was with the main group – who all offered up their bikes for the final 30 miles. Will wouldn’t have it – nor would he ride those last miles with his now crippled bike. This seemed like quitting to us, so until tomorrow Will is known as Won’t. He’ll get his revenge by riding us into the dirt.
Speaking of the ride of redemption – Carter gets the award for heart today. Forced to pull out yesterday with the previously described issues at Ragged Point, he was on a mission. Wasting no time in the service stops, he powered through the day – always on the edge. Toward the end, we were directed onto highway 101 for a twenty mile stretch. He pulled out 10 minutes ahead of the lead group and vowed to stay away. The group was flying – The Train of Pain was the rule of the day. Mile after mile the speed stayed high, yet no sign of Carter. Finally, with only the off ramp ahead he was caught. His face said it all – sunken, pale and salt crusted. But O, Thank Heaven for 7-Eleven, and a coke, a Gatorade and snacks to replenish him for the final ten miles.
Of course, no great escape goes unpunished. In his fog at the store, he set his glasses in a nearby milk crate while drinking – I know, who does this type of thing. Just someone that has lost all his senses.
Two miles from the hotel it dawned on him that the world was somehow mush brighter than it had been all day.
Now as we have all witnessed, life is filled with choices. On one hand, he could turn around and ride nine miles back to get them, on the other he could write them off as being stupid tax. But there was a third option, call Steve, John and the boys to see where they are. Unfortunately, they had passed the store a couple miles back – o’well, that’s the way it goes.
But this is not the way Steve and John roll – whether or not Ron, Jeff, and Colin were in agreement they won’t say – but they called and said they would turn around and go back.
The glasses, 5-year old Oakley’s would have cost $120 to replace; the beers and bragging rights - priceless.
The day ended with Steve and John again in the limelight. For days, they had talked about dinner in Santa Barbara – Brody’s on the pier. Seafood well worthy of 400 miles.
New riders for tomorrow & fresh legs for the run into Redondo Beach. This will be a blessing or a curse; what the heck, we’re half-full thinkers.
Day four behind us, home tomorrow – but Carter swears it’s all flat.
Pismo Beach to Santa Barbara
102 miles
4280 feet of climbing
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