Ride Report 6/13/09 – Ride Around the Bear (Redlands, CA)

So I was going to give the Ride Around the Bear a second chance. Last year’s ride had failed to impress, most notably due to what I felt were less than safe riding conditions (like that was going to be any different this year) coupled with excessive and just plain rude car, truck, motorcycle and semi-truck traffic. In retrospect I was fooling myself thinking I’d just caught the Bear on an off year.

To start out I was going to get on the road an hour earlier and thereby be on the course an hour earlier. The logic being that I’d have to cope with less road traffic whether it be motorized or not.  So I’m out of bed at 3:30 am and fed, packed and ready to roll by 4:30 am.  About 15 minutes down the road I was doing my mental inventory and realized I’d left my Garmin charging on the side table. Drat, gotta have that, so I make a U turn and head back home. Ok, I can recover, I’ll just drive with a slightly heavier foot. Heck, it’s only a 30 minute delay. No big deal.

I headed back down the hill and onto the freeway, but just a mile from my transition to the 605 freeway north the traffic in all five lanes came to a complete and utter standstill. WHAT!?!?!?  It was 5:30 on a Saturday morning and I’m now stuck in a traffic jam? I quickly switched on the radio and tuned in to any one of a number of local AM stations that report traffic every 10 minutes; all at different times no less.  As I punched my way back and forth across the dial I was stupefied that not one station’s traffic reporter mentioned that five lanes on one of the LA basin’s major East/West arteries were stopped. In fact, there wasn’t much to report on period, but what they did sure had nothing to do with what I was stuck in.

Crap, one mile from freedom and I’m powerless to do anything about it. The guy next to me got out of his car and stood on his tiptoes trying to see what was causing the blockage. No luck. Nothing was moving. I could be here for hours. Then, all of a sudden everything starts moving.  Within 100 yards we passed a compact car stopped in the center lane, lights on with a large SUV hovering over its rear bumper leaning on his horn. Who knows what or why, this was LA and nothing made sense. I’d lost another ½ hour.

But wait, there’s more. In my quest for proper pre-ride hydration I was suddenly over come with an incomprehensible need to urinate. I mean a “I just finished a six pack” kind of pain. By now I’d managed to get to Ontario on the Santa Monica Freeway.  Up ahead the Golden Arches offered quick relief. I pull into the parking lot and sprinted to the bathroom. I think I lost about five pounds in water weight. It was then a tortuous series of left and U turns to migrate back to the freeway. More time lost.

Nevertheless relieved, I was finally back on the road but even further behind schedule. It couldn’t get any worse I thought and then right on queue it started to rain. Not heavy, but enough to get everything nice and soaked. And of course it was the first time in three years of riding centuries that I had not brought my full complement of rain gear. At least I would be riding on my old but reliable thrasher Litespeed Classic.

I reached the University exit and headed to my customary top secret parking spot in the cul-de-sac at the center of the park. Well at least one thing went right; there was a parking spot left. Ok, it’s was going to be a GREAT day starting now.

With helmet and signed waiver in hand I trudged across the soggy park to the registration tables. I quickly checked in and headed back to the car. OK, what the heck should I wear?  I had no idea and so bet (wrongly) that things would to clear up. I donned a standard kit with a base layer and arm warmers. I stuffed my Scott wind breaker in my back pocket and headband just in case, but mainly for the descent off Onyx.

I barcoded in at the start and was off at three minutes past seven. Oh yeah, did I mention this year I was going to start early. I made quick work of the twists and turns through urban Redlands. The left onto Garnet took me on a brief foray into the local orchards. So far so good, I was dry and comfortable.

Then as the road swung left and down the drizzle hit, just enough to get the wheels kicking up the muck that had accumulated on the road. I passed several riders making sure to give them a wide berth so I didn’t get sprayed. Nevertheless my feet started to get soaked. I hate that feeling as your socks slowly wick cold water down to your toes.

As I was heading down a mild descent a rider I had passed earlier rolled by and then pulled in front.  Immediately I was plastered with road sludge spewing off his back wheel.  Yum.  Not even twenty miles into this thing and I already looked like I’d been through Paris-Roubaix.

As I made the right onto Boulder a group of three riders formed as we made our way towards the mountains. On queue we hit all the red lights. I tried to stay away from rear wheels along the way, but everyone’s pace and position kept changing. Inevitably I pulled ahead to be done with it.

It was then the right onto Highland across highway and onto 330, the first climb of the day.  I made the left with another, new group of riders. They looked serious with nice kits and bikes, but quickly slipped backwards as the road turned upwards. I followed one of my earlier companions for awhile, but he gradually gapped me and vanished around a bend in the road.

I could already tell it would be an off day for me. My legs hurt, that dull pain that lingers all day. Groan.

The climbing to the first rest stop was worthy of forgetting. Traffic was just as bad as last year. Passing other riders was a pain and dangerous for that matter. The shoulder was at times no wider than the white line that marked the edge of the road. Every time I was overtaken by a Hummer I was thankful not to be dead. Somewhere along this stretch I passed Chuck Bramwell.  He looked miserable which speaks volumes as to what kind of day it was.

About halfway up a guy on a Cervelo with a color coordinated kit (to his bike that is) passed me.  No big deal.  Ok, wait. He passed me and then matched my pace. Still ok. No wait, what’s that dangling from his seat, the place where your saddle bag is supposed to go? I stare. It’s a silver scrotum.  It swings back and forth with every pedal stroke. For some reason it turns my stomach and in the dull misty light its a beacon of bad taste.  Oh and its not going anywhere. It’s just there in front of me, that silver swinging scrotum.

At this point I vow never to do Bear again, seriously, NEVER AGAIN. I mean I’ve been in some pretty nasty conditions and still “enjoyed” the ride, but this was just a joke.

After what must have been ten minutes or so I accelerated and passed the guy (I think). I’m pretty sure I passed him, but I can’t be sure I was so preoccupied with swearing on every imaginable moniker of religious and non-religious faith that I WOULD NEVER DO BEAR AGAIN that I kind of got lost.

I proceeded up through the mist, avoiding traffic, trying to pass folks safely and wondering how much longer I could stand riding with my glasses caked in road crud. Along the way I squeezed down a few gels, revalidated that yes my legs felt like crap and watched my Garmin have a fit.  The barometer crapped out, as it always does, at the first hint of water vapor in the air and was consistently registering a steady 1% grade hovering at 2,244 feet. About this time I glanced up to see the 5,000 foot elevation sign by the side of the road. Love that technology; thank God I’m not flying a plane with this thing.

Ah, the first rest stop came into view. They were playing the theme song from Pirates of the Caribbean from a boom box that hiccupped every minute or so. I laid my bike down and wandered over to the remnants at the grub tables. Most riders must have been ahead of me because the pickings, from what I could find, were pretty slim. Either that or the pirates got it. They had no flavored electrolyte drinks either which didn’t seem right. I got my water bottles filled by a friendly pirate, got my picture snapped and then got the hell out of there.

It was only ten miles to the next rest stop at Snow Valley ski resort so I could snack more there. It was the most pleasant, relatively speaking, portion of the entire ride. The sun came out, the road widened and the traffic seemed to thin out a bit. I enjoyed it and was at the rest stop quickly.

At the stop they were spraying some kind of obnoxious snake oil on everybody’s legs. Some kind of topical miracle potion of which I wanted no part of, mostly because I found the odor nauseating. More riders were congregating here so I was obviously working my way back up through the pack. I grabbed a few snacks, filled my bottles with more water (no energy drinks that I could find), slammed another gel and was gone.

It was another ten miles to the lunch stop by the lake with an easy 500 feet of climbing in between. More nice road and a good descent, though a headwind (surprise!) put a bit of a damper on making the most of it.  No wrong turn at the lake this time and with a few rollers the road deposited me at the designated lunch stop. Here I found Gatorade and topped off a bottle after taking a few healthy swigs. I downed half a turkey sandwich and then got quickly back on the road.

I made good time down to Big Bear, spinning at a nice pace, enjoying the sweeping turns and great view of the lake. I was wary of repeating last year’s second detour so made a quick right when I reached the airport. It turned out to be one intersection too soon, but the result was basically the same since it deposited me at Big Bear Blvd.

As I came to the intersection and was waiting for the light to change a guy on a Cervelo with matching kit pulled up on my right and asked how it was going. I responded “Great, how are you?” focusing on the traffic light. He said “ok”, except for the girl who had knocked him over at the lunch stop. I asked car or bike and he replied bike. I asked again if he was truly ok and he repeated yes, except for his hip. He then starts explaining the mishap as the light changes to green. As he rolled forward he missed getting clipped into his pedal, swerved and there, to my horror, was the swinging silver scrotum! SCROTUM GUY!

As we finished transitioning onto Big Bear Blvd. he continued his tale of woe of which I’d heard (and seen) enough. I turned on the after burners and headed down the road post haste. Now I needed to focus because the right turn to Onyx was coming up. After a mile or so I came to another light and a sign that said Hwy 38, at least I thought it said Hwy 38. As I made the turn I was immediately confronted with an 11% grade. But I didn't remember this particular little climb from last year, but there was another rider grinding up it so I figured I must be ok.

About a mile up the road it just didn’t feel right. I see I’m on Maple, Maple? I stopped and took out the route map which by now was a crumpled blob of paper. I tried to figure out what was what.  I decided that I had turned too early and had to retrace my steps. Oh, and there’s Scrotum Guy following me. He stated the obvious, “I don’t think this is right, I don’t remember it from last year”. Thanks bud.

I headed back to Big Bear Blvd., made the right at the light and then a right at the stop sign. Finally I was on the ascent to Onyx!  It started out pretty mild and then kicked up to the 5 to 6 percent range. It was really an intermediate climb of only about five miles. Of course my legs were still hurting, but I felt I made pretty good work of it. It was much less crowded along this stretch compared to last year. I got passed a few times, but made it to the top without blowing any gaskets.

Thinking I’d try to improve on last year’s time by less rest stop dallying, I only paused long enough at the summit to don my wind breaker and have a few bites of a Powerbar.  The weather had pretty much cleared up, the roads were dry and the temperature wasn’t too bad. I felt confident I could be back in the park within one and a half hours IF there was no headwind. And, of course, there was. It had to have been 20 to 30 mph. I couldn’t get over 35 and was pedaling for most of the way down.

Over the first portion I caught and passed several riders, but just around where the amphitheater is I caught a fellow rider and we traded pulls on and off for the next couple of miles. It started to warm up and he pulled his jacket off while in full flight. I decided the wiser and pulled over to remove mine. I never saw him again.

There were only two real lumps on the way down at about mile 73 into the ride. It was a few hundred feet of climbing and then downhill all the way to the valley.

There was a rest stop at Oak Glen which I had no intent of stopping at. As I whizzed past one of the SAG supporters starts running towards the side of the road with an out stretched arm. I think, what the?!?!?, and slammed on the brakes, the rear wheel actually came off the ground as I came to a complete stop. “Would you like some licorice?”, he asked. You gotta be kidding? I gave him the look, grabbed the licorice and shoved it in my back pocket, then got rolling again. What a wanker.

The next five miles were nice, there was no traffic and the scenery was beautiful. It’s definitely a nice stretch of road.  Damnation Alley of course was its usual wind tunnel. I tucked and pedaled as much as I could, but every now and then I’d have to sit up to stretch and my speed would drop by 5 mph.

Just before the Ranger Station a pair a riders caught me. The guy on the front had tri-bars (smart move) and they were really moving . His partner was just sucking wheel though. Just as they passed a three man came by and headed up the road too. I watch them form a five man and disappear. Just didn’t have anything left to try and latch on.

The final 14 miles was straight into town on a consistent 3% descent. It was a nice way to end the ride, though a head wind took some of the fun out of it. I soldiered on and after getting into town a tandem came by and I moved in behind them.  Now this was traveling in style.  We cruised at a steady 28 mph and even caught the pair of riders that had passed me earlier.

I stayed with them all the way to University and thanked them at the light thanked for the tow. It was then a short mile to the park. I checked in and headed back to the car to change and stow my gear.  I decided to stay for the BBQ since, having skipped the last two rest stops, I was pretty hungry.

In summary, this ride left a lot to be desired. Putting my morning’s impediments to the side I really didn’t enjoy much of it. It was only really training for Kaiser, but a solo ride up Angeles Crest would have been just as challenging and a whole lot more pleasurable. At this point, I’m 99.9999% sure I will not do this ride again.

Total Distance:  100.5 miles

Total Time: 6.41

Average speed: 15.3 mph

Maximum speed: 41.9 mph

Total altitude gained: 10,332 feet

Maximum grade: 8%