In May of this year, I received an email from Elizabeth Taylor. This was astonishing.
But another glance at the subject line read “Conference Point Camp Reunion,” and Beth Taylor threw open a door in the heart of my adolescence.
I fired back the usual “Wow!” and “What’s happening in your life, and by the way, I’ll ride my bike over.” Then began the usual anticipation and preparation. Beth needed help locating other camp staffers. I looked for several and found two.
I was eager to take my Salsa cyclocross bike. The Las Cruces is rugged enough to tote panniers, laden with clothes, shaving kit, camera, I-pod, and road food, in style and grace. We removed the off-road rubber and resoled Ron Mattson’s beautifully built DT Swiss wheels with our favorite Bontrager Race Lite road tires.
My pilgrimage to Conference Point Camp took me north through Afolkey and across Hickory Grove, Walnut Grove and State Line Roads all the way east to Wheeler Road which turned back south to Yale Bridge Road. If you’re planning a ride over to Lake Geneva, there’s a boat landing on Yale Bridge Road just across the Sugar River where you’ll find water and a potty.
Yale Bridge Road continues straight east over to Bluff Road and the Rock River. A short jog north over the river on Prairie Avenue, and we were in busy traffic. Crossing Routes 2 and 151, a detour took me up the west side of the Interstate to a busy Route 75 interchange. Traversing the interstate, the traffic thinned as we continued north on a new four lane boulevard. At the stop sign, we turned right on Highway 67.
Highway 67 continues east past the Beloit Airport. Gliders glistened like huge gulls on this sunny blue Friday. We crossed into Wisconsin and followed County Road P.
County P angles northeast across Highway 140 just south of Clinton where it intersects with County Road J and Northrop School Road. We turned north and rode up Northrop School to Lake Shore Road. This road took us straight over to Fontana. Several years ago, we ran the 18 miles on a hot Saturday morning and were grateful to dive into Lake Geneva at Fontana Beach. I was happy to be on my bike this time.
Lake Shore is a pleasant road freshly surfaced in spots where I remembered it being very hard on hot feet. It is also flat, and my luggage laden Las Cruces rolled happily along as if under its own power.
Lake Shore Road becomes Brick Church Road at the big brick church three miles west of Fontana. We carefully crossed over US Highway 14, and cycled up Six Corners Road to Willow Bend Road. Willow Bend took us straight over to Route 67 just southwest of Williams Bay.
It would have been easy to turn north on 67 and ride that into Williams Bay along the smooth wide shoulder. But the lure of a scenic route took me down the hill towards the lake on Stearns Road. Alas, my loaded panniers were a real drag on the climb back up the hill on N. Lakeshore Drive. This took me back past the entrances to George Williams College Camp (now Aurora University) and the grand entrance to Yerkes Observatory.
Just as West Geneva Street and Route 67 bare left down the hill into Williams Bay, we rode straight ahead on Congress Street in front of the old school and turned right on Colle Street and left on Conference Point Road. We followed Conference Point Road down to the very end and the camp.
I had ridden 80 miles and was making a much anticipated grand entrance. Only nobody appeared to be around to applaud the arrival. I cycled up the steep hill to the Administration building and walked inside for the first time in 40 years.
Conference Point Camp has changed. Summer hire college and high school students who tended the grounds and beach, cleaned the cabins, washed dishes, and served meals to the large groups attending the camp are now gone. In their place are caretaking and catering professionals.
This weekend, the “camp family” returned to reminisce about past friendships and personal lessons working at Conference Point. Frankly, without the hustle bustle of young fresh staffers, the camp looked a tired and forlorn.
Today, TLC of so many buildings is much more expensive, and visiting group receipts are down from the days when this place buzzed with hundreds of campers and staff.
But Conference Point is still magical, and Beth and Dave walked up to the main chapel across from the dining hall to ring the dinner bell in the tradition of the good old days. After dinner, we savored Lake Geneva from the promontory and walked through the lonely grounds and large vacant old buildings sharing memories of our staff family.
On Saturday, our small camp family headed up the hill to tour Yerkes Observatory, the sprawling ornate spawning ground for astrophysics. I elected to go in style on my trusty Las Cruces taking extra time to roll about the handsome park surrounding the observatory.
On Sunday, I bid farewell to Beth and her family and pointed Las Cruces towards Freeport. The light drizzle turned to a steady August rain, and my thoughts floated over such a peaceful weekend reunion. Turning south from Davis towards Winneshiek Road, the sun peaked out to dry my sopping discomfort.
If you have the urge for a long weekend retreat on your bike, follow the route over to Conference Point. Their web site is www.conference-point.org.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Remember Floyd
It's been over a month since our last post. Working really gets in the way of writing.
So tonight as I browsed through Getty Images' wetsite, we happened on a series of photos of Floyd Landis, our tragic 2006 Tour de France champion who's crown and title are now tarnished by a doping scandal which haunts professional cycling.
As we look across Floyd's facial expressions together, you be the judge.
Thank you, Getty Images, for preserving millions of photos of thousands of human stories. Truly, you are a repository for our collective civilization.
So tonight as I browsed through Getty Images' wetsite, we happened on a series of photos of Floyd Landis, our tragic 2006 Tour de France champion who's crown and title are now tarnished by a doping scandal which haunts professional cycling.
As we look across Floyd's facial expressions together, you be the judge.
Thank you, Getty Images, for preserving millions of photos of thousands of human stories. Truly, you are a repository for our collective civilization.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Peggy Badgett's Reminiscences of Cycling in Oregon
Close your eyes and imagine your favorite dream (no, not THAT one!) of riding your bike along winding roads with breathtaking views of thick green forests, rushing streams, and beautiful mountain passes. Your powerful legs spin the cranks as you float up steep grades and fly down the other side. You awaken every morning to fresh crisp air and the smell of breakfast cooking, ready to spend the whole day on your bicycle exploring a new part of the country you have never visited. At night your head meets your pillow with stars shining down upon you after rehashing the days events with friends over dinner and a few beers. Only you pinch yourself and realize it is not a dream, you are riding “Cycle Oregon”.
Cycle Oregon is an organized tour of relatively uncrowned country roads, fully supported. The caravan includes a traveling kitchen, semi trucks hauling stainless steel showers and outdoor sinks, tents for open air dining, vans of bicycle mechanics, a stage for each night’s entertainment, and of course dozens of port potties (blue rooms). As one of the 2000 riders, your only duty is to play on your bike, stuff food into your mouth and jersey pockets at the daily rest stops and three square meals, and set up your tent every night.
I signed up one dreary Midwest winter day, seduced by the promising brochure. As departure drew closer, my anticipation grew. My training consisted of my usual summer mix of racing a few time trails and pleasure rides with all my cycling friends (after all, I love climbing hills!). The most difficult part of preparation was packing. We were only allowed 1 bag, maximum weight of 65 pounds, which for me was several week project as I wrestled the tent (borrowed from Chuck), sleeping bag, and clothes inside to get them to fit. There was no room for high heels. I practiced setting up the tent in our living room several times, narrowly avoiding poking our children’s eyes out with the poles. I am a novice camper, so I made sure I had everything I would need as outlined on the ride web site.
My journey began with Dennis and Darryl as we boarded our flight from Chicago to Portland. Ron and Joe had packed my Madone into a box and shipped her out ahead; she waited for me at the ride start in her box painted with orange and red horse designs. We stayed with Jim and his family in Portland who were wonderful hosts that Friday, and Cheryl from Florida joined our group after her flight arrived late that night. Saturday we set out for Sisters where the ride was to begin. As we drove along the mountain roads, excitement built. I would soon be on my bike with no cares in the world, no pharmacy customers demanding my attention, no bills to pay, and no children to be nagged. I was free.
When we arrived in Sisters, we parked the rental van in the remote parking area and walked to the information building to pick up our rider packets. They put wristbands on us and gave us stickers that had to go on our helmets and bicycles, identifying us by number. Dennis and company wandered to find their tents in the “gated community” (tent and porter service they had signed up for - I referred to them as the suburbs). I dragged my bag to a promising site relatively close to a set of port potties away from the main crowd. And so set the rhythm of the week; as I wrangled the poles amid offers of help which I graciously turned away, I set up my humble abode and organized my cycling gear and skort for the next day. Later, after I picked up my Madone which had been carefully reassembled by the mechanics, we all met for dinner at the food tent.
The days that followed were a blur of meeting new people, miles of majestic evergreens marching, lush quiet forests, peaceful winding roads, and river water rushing over weathered smooth stones as I pedaled along. Sometimes I rode with my friends, sometimes alone admiring the scenery, and sometimes with new acquaintances. Some days the sun rose to melt the frost on my bike as she stood guard at my tent, some days a gentle mist fell softly. Some days the sweat rolled down my arms as I met new ascents, happy and at home climbing upwards. Some days I shivered with fear and chills during the descents. The highlight of the week was a once-in-a-lifetime ride around Crater Lake as the sun shone hot and bright and I chased down group after group up and down the hills.
Photographs and words cannot do justice to my experience. There are memories I will treasure for the rest of my life; the feeling of power as I passed everyone climbing the mountains, icy cold waters of rivers and lakes I swam in, joking and laughing with my new friends as we recounted events of the day, and even the homesickness and tears that hit me suddenly that week (and abated after a few beers!). Even though I was very happy to exchange the wafting odors of the blue rooms and dampness of everything in my tent for the comfort of my bed and arms of my family, I find myself wistfully remembering the openness of the wide skies out West, in the magical land they call Oregon.
Cycle Oregon is an organized tour of relatively uncrowned country roads, fully supported. The caravan includes a traveling kitchen, semi trucks hauling stainless steel showers and outdoor sinks, tents for open air dining, vans of bicycle mechanics, a stage for each night’s entertainment, and of course dozens of port potties (blue rooms). As one of the 2000 riders, your only duty is to play on your bike, stuff food into your mouth and jersey pockets at the daily rest stops and three square meals, and set up your tent every night.
I signed up one dreary Midwest winter day, seduced by the promising brochure. As departure drew closer, my anticipation grew. My training consisted of my usual summer mix of racing a few time trails and pleasure rides with all my cycling friends (after all, I love climbing hills!). The most difficult part of preparation was packing. We were only allowed 1 bag, maximum weight of 65 pounds, which for me was several week project as I wrestled the tent (borrowed from Chuck), sleeping bag, and clothes inside to get them to fit. There was no room for high heels. I practiced setting up the tent in our living room several times, narrowly avoiding poking our children’s eyes out with the poles. I am a novice camper, so I made sure I had everything I would need as outlined on the ride web site.
My journey began with Dennis and Darryl as we boarded our flight from Chicago to Portland. Ron and Joe had packed my Madone into a box and shipped her out ahead; she waited for me at the ride start in her box painted with orange and red horse designs. We stayed with Jim and his family in Portland who were wonderful hosts that Friday, and Cheryl from Florida joined our group after her flight arrived late that night. Saturday we set out for Sisters where the ride was to begin. As we drove along the mountain roads, excitement built. I would soon be on my bike with no cares in the world, no pharmacy customers demanding my attention, no bills to pay, and no children to be nagged. I was free.
When we arrived in Sisters, we parked the rental van in the remote parking area and walked to the information building to pick up our rider packets. They put wristbands on us and gave us stickers that had to go on our helmets and bicycles, identifying us by number. Dennis and company wandered to find their tents in the “gated community” (tent and porter service they had signed up for - I referred to them as the suburbs). I dragged my bag to a promising site relatively close to a set of port potties away from the main crowd. And so set the rhythm of the week; as I wrangled the poles amid offers of help which I graciously turned away, I set up my humble abode and organized my cycling gear and skort for the next day. Later, after I picked up my Madone which had been carefully reassembled by the mechanics, we all met for dinner at the food tent.
The days that followed were a blur of meeting new people, miles of majestic evergreens marching, lush quiet forests, peaceful winding roads, and river water rushing over weathered smooth stones as I pedaled along. Sometimes I rode with my friends, sometimes alone admiring the scenery, and sometimes with new acquaintances. Some days the sun rose to melt the frost on my bike as she stood guard at my tent, some days a gentle mist fell softly. Some days the sweat rolled down my arms as I met new ascents, happy and at home climbing upwards. Some days I shivered with fear and chills during the descents. The highlight of the week was a once-in-a-lifetime ride around Crater Lake as the sun shone hot and bright and I chased down group after group up and down the hills.
Photographs and words cannot do justice to my experience. There are memories I will treasure for the rest of my life; the feeling of power as I passed everyone climbing the mountains, icy cold waters of rivers and lakes I swam in, joking and laughing with my new friends as we recounted events of the day, and even the homesickness and tears that hit me suddenly that week (and abated after a few beers!). Even though I was very happy to exchange the wafting odors of the blue rooms and dampness of everything in my tent for the comfort of my bed and arms of my family, I find myself wistfully remembering the openness of the wide skies out West, in the magical land they call Oregon.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Northwest Illinois Century aka Tour for Cancer Century
We should really call this the Tour de Teresa, since Teresa Isbell orchestrated this spectacular September event and invited all her friends from bikejournal.com to join her in the Upper Left Hand Corner.
We gathered in the wee crisp hours last Saturday, and Teresa had name tags and a big banner waiting. Bill Leibman, his son Adam rolled in and were joined by ChainLinkCyclists Andrew "Diet Rite" Soria, and Steve Spyrison to welcome bikejournal riders from Racine, Roscoe, Savanna, South Elgin, et elsewhere.
Still shivering beneath the early sunrise, we headed out on our favorite Tour for Cancer Century route. Teresa and her husband, Chris, had carefully freshened up the road route markers for newcomers and the forgetful. How could we not remember last June 30's century for cancer?
It was hard not to smile at the wonderful early autumn weather, as we turned south from Warren down Fiedler Road, and the grace of the countryside embraced us. Bill, Adam, Steve and I rolled happily and effortlessly down to Canyon Park Road over one of the most beautiful stretches of this Century... or any century.
Naturally, we had to climb over the Binkley Bonk. I was on top first and became the cheerleader as Adam hurdled up at an amazing velocity. Then came Dad (Bill) and Steve.
Full of our achievement in the backdrop of a grand view, we streaked down the east side of the bump ready to consume whatever delights awaited us at Karen's.
Karen's is a scumptious eat n bakery in downtown Stockton. With more than 45 miles under the belt and 55 to go, fueling the engine at Karen's is a must. I believe we each had an egg and bacon (or sausage) sandwich on fresh bread or croissants. Bill and I followed that with hot Dutch Apple and rhubarb pie which we reluctantly shared with our tablemates.
Shortly after arriving at Karen's Andrew "Diet Rite" Soria and Craig from South Elgin arrived. Naturally, Andrew was porting his favorite carry-on lunch-- shrinkwrappedfreezedried Salmon.
Yummy!
Craig pulled up a chair and was complimentary of the route. Indeed, this century is majestic, and the best was yet to come. Our next stop was Mount Carroll, and we rolled out of Stockton with our legs laden with egg n pie. Soon, we were wringing out for the big roll down the grande Loran Valley.
En route, we happily met up with some bikejournal.com guests, and we rolled south together into Mount Carroll. Our destination was (as always) the Dairy Queen to prime the pump with a Hawaiian Blizzard. Then it was homeward bound along Cyclone Ridge Road and north out of Lanark over Center Road. Then we ran into Dennis Robinson while waiting for a train.
Dennis led Bill, Adam and me home wishing he had ridden the previous 75 miles. The Commodore had just returned from a great Cycle Oregon (Check out his photos of Crater Lake.) and was full of piss and vinegar. He challenged us on his P-38 recumbent. But Adam was up to that, and his dad would not be put off the back.
As for me, it was a pleasure to have another opportunity to ride this great century route with good friends on such a magnificent day.
Thanks Teresa (and Chris) for making it possible. Thanks to Bill and Adam for the company and the Bergie Oktoberfest afterwords. And thanks to all the bikejournal.com riders for joining us in the Upper Left Hand Corner.
We gathered in the wee crisp hours last Saturday, and Teresa had name tags and a big banner waiting. Bill Leibman, his son Adam rolled in and were joined by ChainLinkCyclists Andrew "Diet Rite" Soria, and Steve Spyrison to welcome bikejournal riders from Racine, Roscoe, Savanna, South Elgin, et elsewhere.
Still shivering beneath the early sunrise, we headed out on our favorite Tour for Cancer Century route. Teresa and her husband, Chris, had carefully freshened up the road route markers for newcomers and the forgetful. How could we not remember last June 30's century for cancer?
It was hard not to smile at the wonderful early autumn weather, as we turned south from Warren down Fiedler Road, and the grace of the countryside embraced us. Bill, Adam, Steve and I rolled happily and effortlessly down to Canyon Park Road over one of the most beautiful stretches of this Century... or any century.
Naturally, we had to climb over the Binkley Bonk. I was on top first and became the cheerleader as Adam hurdled up at an amazing velocity. Then came Dad (Bill) and Steve.
Full of our achievement in the backdrop of a grand view, we streaked down the east side of the bump ready to consume whatever delights awaited us at Karen's.
Karen's is a scumptious eat n bakery in downtown Stockton. With more than 45 miles under the belt and 55 to go, fueling the engine at Karen's is a must. I believe we each had an egg and bacon (or sausage) sandwich on fresh bread or croissants. Bill and I followed that with hot Dutch Apple and rhubarb pie which we reluctantly shared with our tablemates.
Shortly after arriving at Karen's Andrew "Diet Rite" Soria and Craig from South Elgin arrived. Naturally, Andrew was porting his favorite carry-on lunch-- shrinkwrappedfreezedried Salmon.
Yummy!
Craig pulled up a chair and was complimentary of the route. Indeed, this century is majestic, and the best was yet to come. Our next stop was Mount Carroll, and we rolled out of Stockton with our legs laden with egg n pie. Soon, we were wringing out for the big roll down the grande Loran Valley.
En route, we happily met up with some bikejournal.com guests, and we rolled south together into Mount Carroll. Our destination was (as always) the Dairy Queen to prime the pump with a Hawaiian Blizzard. Then it was homeward bound along Cyclone Ridge Road and north out of Lanark over Center Road. Then we ran into Dennis Robinson while waiting for a train.
Dennis led Bill, Adam and me home wishing he had ridden the previous 75 miles. The Commodore had just returned from a great Cycle Oregon (Check out his photos of Crater Lake.) and was full of piss and vinegar. He challenged us on his P-38 recumbent. But Adam was up to that, and his dad would not be put off the back.
As for me, it was a pleasure to have another opportunity to ride this great century route with good friends on such a magnificent day.
Thanks Teresa (and Chris) for making it possible. Thanks to Bill and Adam for the company and the Bergie Oktoberfest afterwords. And thanks to all the bikejournal.com riders for joining us in the Upper Left Hand Corner.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Mattson Places 6th at National ABR 50 Mile Road Race
WEST LAKE VILLAGE, ILLINOIS -- This just in from Ron Mattson, owner of the Freeport Bicycle Company and team leader of their bike racing team. Ron's recap demonstrates the importance of having a team focused on getting their leader to the line and on the podium.
"I felt honored to have the support from my teammates, Bob Kenneke and Russ Damhoff. They are great climbers and it was a rolling course so they used all their energy working for me. They covered the early breaks by Team MAC (4 guys) and allowed me to sit in for the first 16-18 miles of the50 mile race.
The pace was pretty fast but I felt really really strong. Then, on the start of lap3 (of 6), we got caught out on a huge attack (7 guys) lead by Team MAC. Bob started to work to bridge me up but popped. Bob must have covered a half dozen vicious attacks and worked his buttoff. So I had to go it alone with one guy on my wheel ... who did zero work.
I had to go since all the medals were up the road. I TT'd it @ 27-28 mph for ~ 3 miles to catch the lead group (still with 3 Team MAC guys). The lead group was now 9 guys. We worked together until we completed lap 3. Then the attacks started again with MAC guys one after another attacking.
I covered 2 or 3 attacks myself and still felt super strong. I made the decision to mark the two best sprinters in the field ... turned out to be the wrong choice. Team MAC attacked again (They had two guys left now) and 3 guys opened up a 20-30 sec gap.
I figured we had 6 guys still in our group and someone would help bridge the gap. But no one would take charge, and the gap grew to 1 minute with the 3 guys up front working hard together. I had only 2 laps left by now, so I went to the front and hammered, but still found no one to help work.
One of the sprinters had a teammate in the lead group so he would not work. The other sprinter refused to work. After about one lap, there were only three of us left-- Team MAC's sprinter, a Polish Sprinter (Best in the Midwest), and me. The 2 other guys with us could not hold the pace on the rolling climbs and got spit out the back.
With one lap to go I bridged ~30 secs so I kept hammering. The two sprinters were yelling at each other because neither one would do any work and they had no chance to win unless we bridged... but they still didn't help. I knew my only opportunity to get a medal was to bridge the group and beat one of the three lead guys (6 of us and only 5 medals). So I kept the pace up 26-27 mph.
With only 3-4 miles left, the lead group was 10-15 secs up the road, and I kept up the steam. When we reached the last corner ~ 1-1.5 miles from the finish, I was 8-10 secs behind and they knew I was coming.
With about 200 meters left I has out of the saddle giving it all I could. The 3 lead guys started their sprint and the two sprinters, which I towed for 20 miles, came around me. I had no gas left and took 6th (3-5 secs from first). That's racing. I made the wrong choice."
Congrats, Ron, Bob & Russ. Great effort!
"I felt honored to have the support from my teammates, Bob Kenneke and Russ Damhoff. They are great climbers and it was a rolling course so they used all their energy working for me. They covered the early breaks by Team MAC (4 guys) and allowed me to sit in for the first 16-18 miles of the50 mile race.
The pace was pretty fast but I felt really really strong. Then, on the start of lap3 (of 6), we got caught out on a huge attack (7 guys) lead by Team MAC. Bob started to work to bridge me up but popped. Bob must have covered a half dozen vicious attacks and worked his buttoff. So I had to go it alone with one guy on my wheel ... who did zero work.
I had to go since all the medals were up the road. I TT'd it @ 27-28 mph for ~ 3 miles to catch the lead group (still with 3 Team MAC guys). The lead group was now 9 guys. We worked together until we completed lap 3. Then the attacks started again with MAC guys one after another attacking.
I covered 2 or 3 attacks myself and still felt super strong. I made the decision to mark the two best sprinters in the field ... turned out to be the wrong choice. Team MAC attacked again (They had two guys left now) and 3 guys opened up a 20-30 sec gap.
I figured we had 6 guys still in our group and someone would help bridge the gap. But no one would take charge, and the gap grew to 1 minute with the 3 guys up front working hard together. I had only 2 laps left by now, so I went to the front and hammered, but still found no one to help work.
One of the sprinters had a teammate in the lead group so he would not work. The other sprinter refused to work. After about one lap, there were only three of us left-- Team MAC's sprinter, a Polish Sprinter (Best in the Midwest), and me. The 2 other guys with us could not hold the pace on the rolling climbs and got spit out the back.
With one lap to go I bridged ~30 secs so I kept hammering. The two sprinters were yelling at each other because neither one would do any work and they had no chance to win unless we bridged... but they still didn't help. I knew my only opportunity to get a medal was to bridge the group and beat one of the three lead guys (6 of us and only 5 medals). So I kept the pace up 26-27 mph.
With only 3-4 miles left, the lead group was 10-15 secs up the road, and I kept up the steam. When we reached the last corner ~ 1-1.5 miles from the finish, I was 8-10 secs behind and they knew I was coming.
With about 200 meters left I has out of the saddle giving it all I could. The 3 lead guys started their sprint and the two sprinters, which I towed for 20 miles, came around me. I had no gas left and took 6th (3-5 secs from first). That's racing. I made the wrong choice."
Congrats, Ron, Bob & Russ. Great effort!
Return from Cycle Oregon
Dennis, Darrell, and Peggy have returned from Oregon, and Dennis has some fantastic pics of Crater Lake. Here they are.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
La Vuelta a Espana 07
We are in the final week 2007's last great pro cycling tour. Sadly, there is no TV coverage of the Vuelta a Espana. Versus ain't at the Vuelta, and the pro cycling media is more concerned with sad sack doping than grand competition.
There is, however, a fantastic web site with a very cool photo gallery to keep you entertained.
Spain is a wide open country with scenic beauty beyond compare. Check out the Vuelta web site when you get a chance.
http://www.lavuelta.com/07/ingles/webimagenes/imagenes18.html?e=18
Photos courtesy of above.
There is, however, a fantastic web site with a very cool photo gallery to keep you entertained.
Spain is a wide open country with scenic beauty beyond compare. Check out the Vuelta web site when you get a chance.
http://www.lavuelta.com/07/ingles/webimagenes/imagenes18.html?e=18
Photos courtesy of above.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Northwest Illinois Century
This is our Tour for Cancer Century and our lovely Saturday coffee ride, Lyle's Ewe Turn.
Teresa Isbell has invited the world to join her on these two routes on Saturday morning, September 22nd. The rides begin with group photos at 6:30 am at HCC and the YMCA.
Teresa has planned an after ride get together at Cimino's.
If you missed the Tour for Cancer Century on June 30, here's your chance to bite the hair of the dog. or else "Bonk on Binkley."
Thanks for your enthusiastic persuasion, Teresa. We love your spirit!!
Teresa Isbell has invited the world to join her on these two routes on Saturday morning, September 22nd. The rides begin with group photos at 6:30 am at HCC and the YMCA.
Teresa has planned an after ride get together at Cimino's.
If you missed the Tour for Cancer Century on June 30, here's your chance to bite the hair of the dog. or else "Bonk on Binkley."
Thanks for your enthusiastic persuasion, Teresa. We love your spirit!!
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Trib Tidbits
Here's one from the Sunday Trib. Meet "Strangers and Friends" while cycling in Europe. Cycle along the Danube, and plan ahead using this bike tour web site: http://www.biketoursdirect.com/.
Also a footnote in the Transportation section on Bicycling & the Law: Your Rights as a Cyclist. Cyclist/lawyer Bob Mionske has written a 384 page book available through Velo Press for $18.95. "This covers rights and duties of cyclists in commuting, accidents, group rides, property damage and bike theft."
Finally, a photo of our Badger Bicyclist, Lyle Krug, taken by his lovely wife, Jane, on some nifty single track southeast of Steamboat, Colorado.
Also a footnote in the Transportation section on Bicycling & the Law: Your Rights as a Cyclist. Cyclist/lawyer Bob Mionske has written a 384 page book available through Velo Press for $18.95. "This covers rights and duties of cyclists in commuting, accidents, group rides, property damage and bike theft."
Finally, a photo of our Badger Bicyclist, Lyle Krug, taken by his lovely wife, Jane, on some nifty single track southeast of Steamboat, Colorado.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Upper Left in Oregon
Commodore Dennis Robinson has been urging us to join him in Oregon (the state) for their annual cycling tour. This year, Dennis is joined by Peggy Badgett and his ole Komrad, Darrell "Wrigleyville" Windle. Darrell is an experienced Cycle Oregon rider, and Peg is going out to bash some of the locals.
We hope their weather is favorable, and here are some photos off the Cycle Oregon web site...
We hope their weather is favorable, and here are some photos off the Cycle Oregon web site...
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Giro a Brodhead e Retorno
We’ve been biking steadily through the month of July, although there hasn’t been much coming out on the page. This is symptomatic of an over preoccupation with the Tour de France.
On Sunday, July 29th, we followed butterflies out over the big hills to Galena and 112 miles of glorious suffering.
On the first Saturday in August, it was time to shake off the lactic acid of Galena and head northeast out of the Upper Left Hand Corner.
Our destination was Brodhead, Wisconsin which is the southern gateway to the Sugar River Trail. It is a cycle friendly community with a very nice town center where we found a bike shop with a bed & breakfast above.
Our route took us up through Clarno, Twin Grove and Juda. A lumber yard in every town in case we would require a 2x4. The roads were in great condition and traffic was light—nearly nonexistent. Unlike the previous Sunday where the incessant sunlight sucked the life out of my legs, the weather was overcast and cool.
Out of Juda, we headed north to Greenbush Road and followed that east to County F. Here we took a detour towards Albany in order to catch a lovely “Rustic Road” called Park which we followed back down to Brodhead.
Brodhead has spruced up the old limestone buildings in its center. We found a friendly sandwich shop and tavern at the southeast corner of the piazza and settled into a nice lunch. My guest, Geno Sapinski from Downers Grove, very nearly spoiled my prime rib sandwich when he asked if my lively Salsa cycling jersey was available in a mans’ color.
Afterwards, our route back to Freeport took us south along Mount Hope Road past the go cart track where Indy Racing League star Danica Patrick launched her meteoric career. Mount Hope carves through the flat rich bottom land and eventually rises up to meet State Line Road.
Turning west, we hugged the state line over to Davis Road. We rode south on Davis Road to Walnut Grove Road and turned west again. Walnut Grove, though freshly sealed and overly chipped, was a welcome alternative to rough treeless boring Rock Grove Road. So we crunched through the chips over to Juda Road and Rock Grove.
From Rock Grove, we continued west towards Afolkey Road along Hickory Grove Road. Hickory Grove is another “preferred” route to Dakota Road which is in terrible shape.
We stopped at Berner Cheese in Afolkey to see if we could get Geno some cheese to take back but no such luck. So, we continued down Afolkey to Angle Road and took that over to Henderson Road and the home stretch to Freeport.
In spite of a light drizzle, this is a great 80 mile ride over some beautiful scenic rural roads.
On Sunday, July 29th, we followed butterflies out over the big hills to Galena and 112 miles of glorious suffering.
On the first Saturday in August, it was time to shake off the lactic acid of Galena and head northeast out of the Upper Left Hand Corner.
Our destination was Brodhead, Wisconsin which is the southern gateway to the Sugar River Trail. It is a cycle friendly community with a very nice town center where we found a bike shop with a bed & breakfast above.
Our route took us up through Clarno, Twin Grove and Juda. A lumber yard in every town in case we would require a 2x4. The roads were in great condition and traffic was light—nearly nonexistent. Unlike the previous Sunday where the incessant sunlight sucked the life out of my legs, the weather was overcast and cool.
Out of Juda, we headed north to Greenbush Road and followed that east to County F. Here we took a detour towards Albany in order to catch a lovely “Rustic Road” called Park which we followed back down to Brodhead.
Brodhead has spruced up the old limestone buildings in its center. We found a friendly sandwich shop and tavern at the southeast corner of the piazza and settled into a nice lunch. My guest, Geno Sapinski from Downers Grove, very nearly spoiled my prime rib sandwich when he asked if my lively Salsa cycling jersey was available in a mans’ color.
Afterwards, our route back to Freeport took us south along Mount Hope Road past the go cart track where Indy Racing League star Danica Patrick launched her meteoric career. Mount Hope carves through the flat rich bottom land and eventually rises up to meet State Line Road.
Turning west, we hugged the state line over to Davis Road. We rode south on Davis Road to Walnut Grove Road and turned west again. Walnut Grove, though freshly sealed and overly chipped, was a welcome alternative to rough treeless boring Rock Grove Road. So we crunched through the chips over to Juda Road and Rock Grove.
From Rock Grove, we continued west towards Afolkey Road along Hickory Grove Road. Hickory Grove is another “preferred” route to Dakota Road which is in terrible shape.
We stopped at Berner Cheese in Afolkey to see if we could get Geno some cheese to take back but no such luck. So, we continued down Afolkey to Angle Road and took that over to Henderson Road and the home stretch to Freeport.
In spite of a light drizzle, this is a great 80 mile ride over some beautiful scenic rural roads.
Rain Rain Get Out a Here
I rode 75 miles back from Williams Bay, Wisconsin through a warm (ish) rain last Sunday. South of Davis, along Farwell Bridge Road, the clouds thinned, and a warm breath blow dried me and my pannier laden Las Cruces.
Since Sunday, however, we have had nothing but rain, soak and soggy.
Makes one think of our Irish friends.
Since Sunday, however, we have had nothing but rain, soak and soggy.
Makes one think of our Irish friends.
Monday, August 6, 2007
Adventures in Thompson?
On Sunday, July 29, suffering from Post Tour Anxiety, I followed two butterflies over the hills to Galena and back to Freeport. Jill Whiting, Colleen Neary and I had a glorious 115 mile ride, although the sun sucked the life out of me legs. More about all that later.
The Tour de France and the PTA has really put the brakes on my writing. So, I share Jill's trip to Thompson this past weekend with you now.
"Still HIGH on the ride Dave took us on last Sunday (which I did AGAIN on Monday – but on the back of Kenbob’s motorcycle – I found I did a LOT less heavy breathing the second time around), today Colleen, Michelle and I (Jillyf!sh) started from Freeport and went out East Loran to 78 North.
At this point I had a not-so-pretty blow-out. Left a quarter-inch hole in my tire, right in the center where “the rubber meets the road”. I put in a new tube along w/ a dollar bill to cover the hole.
As I attempted to pump it up, it blew again. Colleen generously donated her only tube and I tried again. George Washington was staring out the hole at us, so I took one of Colleen’s patches and covered the OUTSIDE of the hole (if I would have thought about it BEFORE pumping, I’d have put it on the inside of the tire. At least George was blind-folded now.)
We were thinking maybe it best to start heading back though we were really psyched to do the planned ride. I said, let’s see if I get 5 feet down the road, and,……if so, we’ll go to Massbach Rd (if I make it that far) and re-evaluate. Well, the patch was still on and the tire still held air, so I felt cocky and said let’s keep going.
We rode Derinda south to Scenic Ridge Road along the east side of Pallisades.
We hit Savanna and Michelle took off down Rt 64 to head back while we took the path down to Thompson. There we found a delightful bike shop called “Arnold’s Bikes and Embroidery” -- REALLY!!! Too funny! He had quite the inventory – a fun shop.
We stopped for lunch and the rain hit! By the time we were ready to hit the road, it subsided a bit but still rained on us all the way to Freeport. We were soaked but happy! We zig-zagged through Chadwick, Lanark, Shannon and back. Clocked 104 miles. Michelle did about 20 less and later wished she rode the extra 20 just to have someone to paceline with and take turns blocking the headwind. NEXT time!
Once I got home the patch was still there but pretty much worn through and George was peeking out again. I really think ol’ George made our ride possible.
For those interested, the 2006 Hawaii Ironman will be televised again tomorrow (Sun) from 4 – 6.
Andrew, gotta tell you about a fun bike gadget I saw at the Embroidery Shop – OOPS, I mean BIKE Shop J, that you’d find interesting as a commuter.
No Italian from me, except CIAO!"
__~O
-\ <,
(*) (*)
~ Jillyf!sh
The Tour de France and the PTA has really put the brakes on my writing. So, I share Jill's trip to Thompson this past weekend with you now.
"Still HIGH on the ride Dave took us on last Sunday (which I did AGAIN on Monday – but on the back of Kenbob’s motorcycle – I found I did a LOT less heavy breathing the second time around), today Colleen, Michelle and I (Jillyf!sh) started from Freeport and went out East Loran to 78 North.
At this point I had a not-so-pretty blow-out. Left a quarter-inch hole in my tire, right in the center where “the rubber meets the road”. I put in a new tube along w/ a dollar bill to cover the hole.
As I attempted to pump it up, it blew again. Colleen generously donated her only tube and I tried again. George Washington was staring out the hole at us, so I took one of Colleen’s patches and covered the OUTSIDE of the hole (if I would have thought about it BEFORE pumping, I’d have put it on the inside of the tire. At least George was blind-folded now.)
We were thinking maybe it best to start heading back though we were really psyched to do the planned ride. I said, let’s see if I get 5 feet down the road, and,……if so, we’ll go to Massbach Rd (if I make it that far) and re-evaluate. Well, the patch was still on and the tire still held air, so I felt cocky and said let’s keep going.
We rode Derinda south to Scenic Ridge Road along the east side of Pallisades.
We hit Savanna and Michelle took off down Rt 64 to head back while we took the path down to Thompson. There we found a delightful bike shop called “Arnold’s Bikes and Embroidery” -- REALLY!!! Too funny! He had quite the inventory – a fun shop.
We stopped for lunch and the rain hit! By the time we were ready to hit the road, it subsided a bit but still rained on us all the way to Freeport. We were soaked but happy! We zig-zagged through Chadwick, Lanark, Shannon and back. Clocked 104 miles. Michelle did about 20 less and later wished she rode the extra 20 just to have someone to paceline with and take turns blocking the headwind. NEXT time!
Once I got home the patch was still there but pretty much worn through and George was peeking out again. I really think ol’ George made our ride possible.
For those interested, the 2006 Hawaii Ironman will be televised again tomorrow (Sun) from 4 – 6.
Andrew, gotta tell you about a fun bike gadget I saw at the Embroidery Shop – OOPS, I mean BIKE Shop J, that you’d find interesting as a commuter.
No Italian from me, except CIAO!"
__~O
-\ <,
(*) (*)
~ Jillyf!sh
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
This is our Bigdaddy—the Tour for Cancer Century. The route was originated by Dennis Robinson to touch nearly all the clinics in our health network, and it is one of the premier long rides in the Upper Left-Hand Corner of Illinois.
We start from our YMCA located on the Highland Community College campus and cycle north by northwest through the villages of Lena and Warren. The route then swings southwest down gorgeous Fiedler Road to Canyon Park Road—a wide blacktop which rolls south towards Stockton through a broad valley.
Our destination in downtown Stockton is Karen’s Restaurant for an early lunch. Our right of passage is a beastly 15% grade on Binkley Road which we call the Binkley Bonk. Pray that a dog doesn’t chase at your heels on the way up as it did me the first time I climbed the Bonk. Once on top, your reward is a spectacular westerly view from the summit.
Karen’s has humongous sandwiches and yummy pie. We tucked into piled high turkey clubs and bacon cheese burgers. Darrell Windell lured us to the rhubarb pie, and this prompted Andrew “Diet Right” Soria to proclaim that we were “an eating club with a bike disorder.”
From Stockton, our Century heads east over to the borough of Kent. My legs felt like lead with all that lounging and eating at Karen’s. But my tum was pleasantly full with fresh warmed homemade pie.
South of Kent, we tackle some big rollers and swing into another beautiful valley which meanders southwest along Loran Road towards Mount Carroll. We lovingly call this the Valle de Loran.
As we approached Mount Carroll, the pace quickened. Evidentally Karen’s pie wasn’t enough to satisfy our craving for sweets. Dr. Mike Perry and Chuck Garrett were locked in on Hawaiian Pineapple and other Blizzards at the Dairy Queen. Their flying P-38 recumbents set us up with a nice draft down to Mount Carroll.
Our route from Mount Carroll to Lanark runs off Route 40 onto Cyclone Ridge Road. Praise Almighty, the winds were out of the southwest. We set our spinnakers on Cyclone Ridge, and flew over the rollers to Lanark. From Lanark, it’s back to Freeport and Highland College via the village of Shannon with a short stop at Casey’s if called for.
Wanna ride this fabulous Century? Drop me a note. The course markers should remain visible for the next few months, and I’ll send you a map and detailed directions.
Better yet, come ride with us on June 28, 2008. All contributions go directly to our Ferguson Cancer Center here in Freeport.
We start from our YMCA located on the Highland Community College campus and cycle north by northwest through the villages of Lena and Warren. The route then swings southwest down gorgeous Fiedler Road to Canyon Park Road—a wide blacktop which rolls south towards Stockton through a broad valley.
Our destination in downtown Stockton is Karen’s Restaurant for an early lunch. Our right of passage is a beastly 15% grade on Binkley Road which we call the Binkley Bonk. Pray that a dog doesn’t chase at your heels on the way up as it did me the first time I climbed the Bonk. Once on top, your reward is a spectacular westerly view from the summit.
Karen’s has humongous sandwiches and yummy pie. We tucked into piled high turkey clubs and bacon cheese burgers. Darrell Windell lured us to the rhubarb pie, and this prompted Andrew “Diet Right” Soria to proclaim that we were “an eating club with a bike disorder.”
From Stockton, our Century heads east over to the borough of Kent. My legs felt like lead with all that lounging and eating at Karen’s. But my tum was pleasantly full with fresh warmed homemade pie.
South of Kent, we tackle some big rollers and swing into another beautiful valley which meanders southwest along Loran Road towards Mount Carroll. We lovingly call this the Valle de Loran.
As we approached Mount Carroll, the pace quickened. Evidentally Karen’s pie wasn’t enough to satisfy our craving for sweets. Dr. Mike Perry and Chuck Garrett were locked in on Hawaiian Pineapple and other Blizzards at the Dairy Queen. Their flying P-38 recumbents set us up with a nice draft down to Mount Carroll.
Our route from Mount Carroll to Lanark runs off Route 40 onto Cyclone Ridge Road. Praise Almighty, the winds were out of the southwest. We set our spinnakers on Cyclone Ridge, and flew over the rollers to Lanark. From Lanark, it’s back to Freeport and Highland College via the village of Shannon with a short stop at Casey’s if called for.
Wanna ride this fabulous Century? Drop me a note. The course markers should remain visible for the next few months, and I’ll send you a map and detailed directions.
Better yet, come ride with us on June 28, 2008. All contributions go directly to our Ferguson Cancer Center here in Freeport.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Lanesboro
Where is Lanesboro, and what is so special about it? To find out, we ventured out of the Upper Left Hand Corner of Illinois. Our destination was the Lower Right Hand Corner of Minnesota and their smooth bicycle trail which has been in existence for over twenty years.
Lanesboro is the centerpiece of this tarmac trail system. It is an enchanting enclave surrounded by limestone bluffs with the Root River running through it on its way to the great Mississippi.
“What happens in Lanesboro stays in Lanesboro.” So say the T-shirts on sale there. This must refer to cash receipts from visiting tourists, because Lanesboro is an economic tourist engine-- like the Wisconsin Dells but much more quaint and classy. And it’s all because of a bike trail.
The town also draws tattooed Harley riders and scantily clad river tubers who seek the cool ripples of the Root River. On Saturdays and Sundays it resembles Lake Geneva, Wisconsin with its cacophonous parade of two and four wheeled chrome machines.
But the majority of folks arrive with bike racks on the backs of there SUVs and vans. They come as families and friends to ride the Root River Trail. They come, as we did, to enjoy the après biciclette when the bikes are in the barn, the sun is over the yardarm, and extraordinary wine is lovingly uncorked. They seek the succulent slightly pink legs of lamb arched delicately over beds of couscous graced with mango jalapeno chutney. Peddle pusher or not, this is gastronomic heaven.
Our appetites were fed by the fresh out-of-doors, as we rose early in the morning sparkle to ride bicycles. During midday, we poked into an array of smart shops and lunched on a shady deck overlooking the river. Following lunch and the Schell’s pilsner, we napped in the afternoon with Wallace Stegner’s “Angle of Repose” by our bedside.
In the early evening, we rose to observe Doctor Mike “Sparky” Perry assemble a great wood fire on the lawn and sample the wines he had carefully chosen for this magical weekend.
Who says bicycle riders are boisterous barbarians? Admittedly, we were a loud as we pulled our vinyl Adirondacks around the roaring “Sparky” Perry fire. As the vino flowed from our throats to our brains, we leapt from our seats to dance and chant like Sioux warriors.
Here we were on a splendid weekend-- long married couples sharing our love for life and cycling in this special place. I say long married, because we couples together represented over 200 years of devotion.
Thanks go to our beloved Commodore to for arranging our weekend in Lanesboro. We may have been too hard on him of late complaining of his appalling routes through the Upper Left Hand Corner of Illinois. But he showed himself to be a cultured gentleman along the banks of the Root River in Lanesboro, Minnesota.
Lanesboro is the centerpiece of this tarmac trail system. It is an enchanting enclave surrounded by limestone bluffs with the Root River running through it on its way to the great Mississippi.
“What happens in Lanesboro stays in Lanesboro.” So say the T-shirts on sale there. This must refer to cash receipts from visiting tourists, because Lanesboro is an economic tourist engine-- like the Wisconsin Dells but much more quaint and classy. And it’s all because of a bike trail.
The town also draws tattooed Harley riders and scantily clad river tubers who seek the cool ripples of the Root River. On Saturdays and Sundays it resembles Lake Geneva, Wisconsin with its cacophonous parade of two and four wheeled chrome machines.
But the majority of folks arrive with bike racks on the backs of there SUVs and vans. They come as families and friends to ride the Root River Trail. They come, as we did, to enjoy the après biciclette when the bikes are in the barn, the sun is over the yardarm, and extraordinary wine is lovingly uncorked. They seek the succulent slightly pink legs of lamb arched delicately over beds of couscous graced with mango jalapeno chutney. Peddle pusher or not, this is gastronomic heaven.
Our appetites were fed by the fresh out-of-doors, as we rose early in the morning sparkle to ride bicycles. During midday, we poked into an array of smart shops and lunched on a shady deck overlooking the river. Following lunch and the Schell’s pilsner, we napped in the afternoon with Wallace Stegner’s “Angle of Repose” by our bedside.
In the early evening, we rose to observe Doctor Mike “Sparky” Perry assemble a great wood fire on the lawn and sample the wines he had carefully chosen for this magical weekend.
Who says bicycle riders are boisterous barbarians? Admittedly, we were a loud as we pulled our vinyl Adirondacks around the roaring “Sparky” Perry fire. As the vino flowed from our throats to our brains, we leapt from our seats to dance and chant like Sioux warriors.
Here we were on a splendid weekend-- long married couples sharing our love for life and cycling in this special place. I say long married, because we couples together represented over 200 years of devotion.
Thanks go to our beloved Commodore to for arranging our weekend in Lanesboro. We may have been too hard on him of late complaining of his appalling routes through the Upper Left Hand Corner of Illinois. But he showed himself to be a cultured gentleman along the banks of the Root River in Lanesboro, Minnesota.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Rodmanson’s Meyers Road 60
Meyers Road is a five and a half mile chip sealed surface stretching between Route 78 and Loran Road. It is a lovely sequence of hills and valleys introduced to us by Ron Mattson of the Freeport Bicycle Company last year.
You can start up Meyers Road from the south off Loran Road as we did last autumn under Ron’s recommendation. The fun begins after you roll three miles along a plateau in the company of a westerly belvedere. Thereafter, you commence a series of four plunges followed by five sharp 10% grade climbs before arriving at Route 78.
Our first encounter with Meyers Road was unforgettable for its beauty and pain. It was punctuated by emerging fall color and a nasty northwest wind uncharacteristic for September. This year, we longed for another dance.
That occurred on June the third, and this time we approached Meyers Road from the north and Route 78. For extra fun, we were obliged to ride over to Route 78 via East Loran Road. This knee buckling prelude was orchestrated by none other than Dennis Rodmanson our beloved Commodore.
Yes, we know Dennis’ real name is Robinson. But we prefer this moniker, which combines the idiosyncrasies of former NBA bad boy, Dennis Rodman with the dark persona of Charles Manson.
Admittedly, our Commodore was fresh from his huge ride on Memorial Day weekend (See Mean Ole Skene.). He really does arrange the most interesting, and appalling, bicycle rides in our Upper Left Hand Corner.
So, to get to Meyers Road the Rodmanson way, depart Highland Community College, and head west on Pearl City Road to Block Road which is just around the big “S” turn about five miles. Follow Block Road down past the Emerald Acres campground to Mill Grove Road. Turn left, and ride Mill Grove down through Owl’s Glen to Loran Road.
Turn right on Loran Road and ride out west about seven miles across Route 73 over the big hill into the Valle de Loran. A very short mile south of Loran, turn right on Althoff Road. Althoff becomes East Loran Road and six miles over the knee bucklers into Pleasant Valley and Route 78.
Along the way, we received an extra adrenaline pop as we approached our final climb around a big sweeping turn at 20 miles per hour. Dennis and I were in front with Yoric Knapp hot on our tail in his titanium Bachetta. Yoric screamed “Deer,” and Dennis and I braked just in time to avoid a big White Tail flying full tilt across our path.
This magnificent creature hurtled over the barbed wire fences on each side of the road ahead. He hung his hind quarters on the second fence, but his momentum scraped him off the barbs, and he was gone. Twang!! OUCH!!
We didn’t much mind the final climb over to Pleasant Valley after witnessing that.
East Loran Road ends at Route 78. Turn left and ride two miles south towards Mount Carroll. At the top of the long grade on 78, turn left on Meyers Road. Enjoy the next five and a half miles over the big rollers.
When you arrive at Loran Road, turn left and ride back to Freeport through the beautiful Valle de Loran. We thank our Commodore Rodmanson for this 60 miles of June nirvana.
You can start up Meyers Road from the south off Loran Road as we did last autumn under Ron’s recommendation. The fun begins after you roll three miles along a plateau in the company of a westerly belvedere. Thereafter, you commence a series of four plunges followed by five sharp 10% grade climbs before arriving at Route 78.
Our first encounter with Meyers Road was unforgettable for its beauty and pain. It was punctuated by emerging fall color and a nasty northwest wind uncharacteristic for September. This year, we longed for another dance.
That occurred on June the third, and this time we approached Meyers Road from the north and Route 78. For extra fun, we were obliged to ride over to Route 78 via East Loran Road. This knee buckling prelude was orchestrated by none other than Dennis Rodmanson our beloved Commodore.
Yes, we know Dennis’ real name is Robinson. But we prefer this moniker, which combines the idiosyncrasies of former NBA bad boy, Dennis Rodman with the dark persona of Charles Manson.
Admittedly, our Commodore was fresh from his huge ride on Memorial Day weekend (See Mean Ole Skene.). He really does arrange the most interesting, and appalling, bicycle rides in our Upper Left Hand Corner.
So, to get to Meyers Road the Rodmanson way, depart Highland Community College, and head west on Pearl City Road to Block Road which is just around the big “S” turn about five miles. Follow Block Road down past the Emerald Acres campground to Mill Grove Road. Turn left, and ride Mill Grove down through Owl’s Glen to Loran Road.
Turn right on Loran Road and ride out west about seven miles across Route 73 over the big hill into the Valle de Loran. A very short mile south of Loran, turn right on Althoff Road. Althoff becomes East Loran Road and six miles over the knee bucklers into Pleasant Valley and Route 78.
Along the way, we received an extra adrenaline pop as we approached our final climb around a big sweeping turn at 20 miles per hour. Dennis and I were in front with Yoric Knapp hot on our tail in his titanium Bachetta. Yoric screamed “Deer,” and Dennis and I braked just in time to avoid a big White Tail flying full tilt across our path.
This magnificent creature hurtled over the barbed wire fences on each side of the road ahead. He hung his hind quarters on the second fence, but his momentum scraped him off the barbs, and he was gone. Twang!! OUCH!!
We didn’t much mind the final climb over to Pleasant Valley after witnessing that.
East Loran Road ends at Route 78. Turn left and ride two miles south towards Mount Carroll. At the top of the long grade on 78, turn left on Meyers Road. Enjoy the next five and a half miles over the big rollers.
When you arrive at Loran Road, turn left and ride back to Freeport through the beautiful Valle de Loran. We thank our Commodore Rodmanson for this 60 miles of June nirvana.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Report from the Mean Ole Skene
This week, Cycleupperleft is proud to offer a guest feature from none other than the Commodore himself and his riding pal Peggy Badgett. Andrew Soria provided the photos.
Well, three of us actually got up early to try a challenging ride from Stockton to Galena and back--Andrew Soria, Peggy Badgett and I. We started at 6 AM sharp and went out on a south route toward Massbach. As I have mentioned, since I learned Skene Rd had been paved, I've wanted to get the bike out there. Skene Rd goes between Massbach Rd and Derinda Rd--the road delves deep into a valley, and then, naturally climbs just as dramatically back out.
Ok--you all know Andrew is an experienced cyclist who has logged many miles. His previous top speed was 46 mph. On Skene Rd, he hit 52.2!!! I hit 53. What a descent--unbelieveable and breathtaking. Speaking of breathtaking, then we had to climb back out to Derinda Rd. We took Hanover Rd on over to Hanover and then headed out Blackjack.
I had noticed a few roads had been seal coated over the past several years, and wanted to explore, and Peg and Andrew were game. After we climbed up Blackjack out of Hanover, we took Sawmill Rd to the N (I think--the roads do not go any particular direction out there as you know). After we dropped down into the valley, we took a left onto Rodden Rd, and this undulated threw a magnificent valley for quite a few miles.
Essentially we were riding in a valley between Blackjack and US Highway 20 toward Galena. Rodden Rd eventually breaks off to the north to meet US 20, and we continued toward Galena on Irish Hollow. Some of us have ridden a bit of the west end of Irish hollow in the past, but the east end is really spectacular. We followed it along and eventually it meets up with Blackjack about 2 miles from Galena, which we road on into town.
We hit the nice coffee shop that we tried last year, and once again, Andrew produced a smoked salmon from his bag--and they set him up with sandwich fixins, so he was set. Peggy and I ate the regulation turkey--we realize fish have feeling too.
The trip back was our usual favorite--Guilford--Rawlins (ugh), Schapville, Townsend, and then the grand finale--Aunt Binkley Hill. The consensus among todays riders was that Rawlins was the hill du jour as far as a climb--tougher than Binkley. and the descent du jour had to be Skene.
Total mileage was 70, and I have no idea how many feet we climbed (of course Andrew insisted we include a side trip up Gras Rd) At any rate, by the summit of Binkley, my hamstrings were on the verge of cramping up on me--I was glad to be done.
Peggy and Andrew were kind to not get too far ahead of me. I was on my old bike (Lightning P-38 recumbent), cause I was getting a little back pain last few days. Regarding Peggy--do not let her drink caffeinated beverages when you are riding with her--she had a latte in Galena, and Andrew and I paid all the way to Shapville, trying to keep her in sight.
I
promise to incorporate all these new roads into our one way trip to Galena on June 24. The plan is to ride to Galena from Freeport, then have our spouses drive out to pick us up and drive us back after we shower, hit the sports bar in Galena, and take them to dinner.
Hope you all had a great holiday.
Dennis
PS: Now I'm going to bed.
"I second everything Dennis said (except for the caffeine - I needed it!) - of course he kindly did not mention the fact that they had to wait on all of the downhills for me since I tend to hit the brakes, but towards the end of the ride I figured what the heck and gave the bike some rein.
Talk about truly beautiful scenery - we are incredibly lucky to bike this area. My favorite climb was Rawlins - that is such a fun hill, but they were all great. I am one tired girl, but did manage to get a horseback ride in, go to a party, and get some landscaping done after the ride. I'll be asleep by 9!
Dennis - if I can't ride Rawlins on the June ride, maybe I can go back uphill on Skene and catch up with you guys at a snack break. I'll have to drink some coffee BEFORE that ride!"
peggy
Well, three of us actually got up early to try a challenging ride from Stockton to Galena and back--Andrew Soria, Peggy Badgett and I. We started at 6 AM sharp and went out on a south route toward Massbach. As I have mentioned, since I learned Skene Rd had been paved, I've wanted to get the bike out there. Skene Rd goes between Massbach Rd and Derinda Rd--the road delves deep into a valley, and then, naturally climbs just as dramatically back out.
Ok--you all know Andrew is an experienced cyclist who has logged many miles. His previous top speed was 46 mph. On Skene Rd, he hit 52.2!!! I hit 53. What a descent--unbelieveable and breathtaking. Speaking of breathtaking, then we had to climb back out to Derinda Rd. We took Hanover Rd on over to Hanover and then headed out Blackjack.
I had noticed a few roads had been seal coated over the past several years, and wanted to explore, and Peg and Andrew were game. After we climbed up Blackjack out of Hanover, we took Sawmill Rd to the N (I think--the roads do not go any particular direction out there as you know). After we dropped down into the valley, we took a left onto Rodden Rd, and this undulated threw a magnificent valley for quite a few miles.
Essentially we were riding in a valley between Blackjack and US Highway 20 toward Galena. Rodden Rd eventually breaks off to the north to meet US 20, and we continued toward Galena on Irish Hollow. Some of us have ridden a bit of the west end of Irish hollow in the past, but the east end is really spectacular. We followed it along and eventually it meets up with Blackjack about 2 miles from Galena, which we road on into town.
We hit the nice coffee shop that we tried last year, and once again, Andrew produced a smoked salmon from his bag--and they set him up with sandwich fixins, so he was set. Peggy and I ate the regulation turkey--we realize fish have feeling too.
The trip back was our usual favorite--Guilford--Rawlins (ugh), Schapville, Townsend, and then the grand finale--Aunt Binkley Hill. The consensus among todays riders was that Rawlins was the hill du jour as far as a climb--tougher than Binkley. and the descent du jour had to be Skene.
Total mileage was 70, and I have no idea how many feet we climbed (of course Andrew insisted we include a side trip up Gras Rd) At any rate, by the summit of Binkley, my hamstrings were on the verge of cramping up on me--I was glad to be done.
Peggy and Andrew were kind to not get too far ahead of me. I was on my old bike (Lightning P-38 recumbent), cause I was getting a little back pain last few days. Regarding Peggy--do not let her drink caffeinated beverages when you are riding with her--she had a latte in Galena, and Andrew and I paid all the way to Shapville, trying to keep her in sight.
I
promise to incorporate all these new roads into our one way trip to Galena on June 24. The plan is to ride to Galena from Freeport, then have our spouses drive out to pick us up and drive us back after we shower, hit the sports bar in Galena, and take them to dinner.
Hope you all had a great holiday.
Dennis
PS: Now I'm going to bed.
"I second everything Dennis said (except for the caffeine - I needed it!) - of course he kindly did not mention the fact that they had to wait on all of the downhills for me since I tend to hit the brakes, but towards the end of the ride I figured what the heck and gave the bike some rein.
Talk about truly beautiful scenery - we are incredibly lucky to bike this area. My favorite climb was Rawlins - that is such a fun hill, but they were all great. I am one tired girl, but did manage to get a horseback ride in, go to a party, and get some landscaping done after the ride. I'll be asleep by 9!
Dennis - if I can't ride Rawlins on the June ride, maybe I can go back uphill on Skene and catch up with you guys at a snack break. I'll have to drink some coffee BEFORE that ride!"
peggy
Friday, June 1, 2007
Surreal Surly di Giuseppe
Joe Dadez, manager of Freeport Bicycle Company, recently purchased a surly looking Surly single speed bike for $30.
The bike came with weird olive paint, over Reynolds 631 tubing, dressed with cranberry colored crank and cranberry wheels. The splayed out handlebar drops were a relaxed yet aggressive touch.
But then, Joe dug through the parts bins at the shop and scrounged matching rosso colored V-brakes ($50) and cranberry handlebar tape ($12) plus new brake levers ($20), a leftover Bontrager saddle ($44), and a freewheel ($16.99).
The grand total for bike and adds is $172.99.
Now, Joe has a Surreal Surly-- a spindly Greek olive pitted with a dash of rust and garnished with a flash of florescent pimento.
Che bella bicicletta, Giuseppe! Bravo!!
For extra fun, check out Surly's website -- http://www.surlybikes.com/bikes.html
The bike came with weird olive paint, over Reynolds 631 tubing, dressed with cranberry colored crank and cranberry wheels. The splayed out handlebar drops were a relaxed yet aggressive touch.
But then, Joe dug through the parts bins at the shop and scrounged matching rosso colored V-brakes ($50) and cranberry handlebar tape ($12) plus new brake levers ($20), a leftover Bontrager saddle ($44), and a freewheel ($16.99).
The grand total for bike and adds is $172.99.
Now, Joe has a Surreal Surly-- a spindly Greek olive pitted with a dash of rust and garnished with a flash of florescent pimento.
Che bella bicicletta, Giuseppe! Bravo!!
For extra fun, check out Surly's website -- http://www.surlybikes.com/bikes.html
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Lyle's Ewe Turn
Spring is here, the grass is not too high, the trees are just leafing out, and the landscape is as soft as the lamb’s tummy. This is a story about sheep and rural roads. Odd combination, wouldn’t you say? Read on.
There are hundreds of bucolic gravel roads hidden around the Upper Left-Hand Corner of Illinois and never enough paved ones. So, when we discover a remote and scenic tarmac, we treasure it, hold it in our collective memory, and praise its aesthetic rewards.
One Sunday morning in late April, Lyle Krug introduced us to just such a route. Growing up near Orangeville, Illinois, Lyle has had ample time to sample nearly every road between Freeport and Monroe. So come ride with us in the charming lambscape where sheep safely graze, and please hold all jokes about our four legged friends.
To get to the Ewe Turn from Highland Community College, take Kiwanis north to Stephenson Street and west to Van Brocklin Road. Continue north on Van Brocklyn to Lily Creek Road. Turn right on Lily Creek and ride to the next left at Harlem Center Road. Continue north on Harlem Center Road across Business 20 and over the US 20 Bypass. Take the first left on Winneshiek Road after you cross over the Bypass, and ride west up the hill to the "T" at AYP Road.
Turn right on AYP, and ride north to the next "T" at Cedarville Road. Turn right and ride 2,000 feet, across the Pecatonica River bridge, to Damascus Road. Turn left and ride north on Damascus Road three and a quarter miles and turn left on West Empire Road.
Now, enjoy the first leg of the Ewe Turn. You’ll have just enough time to peek at the scenery as you descend eight tenths of a mile down this narrow tree lined road. Just before the gravel at the bottom of the hill, turn right on Korth Road.
This is the second leg of our Ewe Turn. We’ll ride north with the shade of the hillside on our right up the grade to the iron fence styles. Now, you may stop, look, and listen for our fuzzy friends grazing peacefully in green pastures.
After bidding the ewes adieu, Korth Road falls away and jambs into McConnell Road. Watch for traffic as you turn right, and commence the third leg of the Ewe Turn. You are riding east two and three quarter miles over Richland Creek into rustic Buena Vista.
Lyle’s Ewe Turn is a three-legged ewe which rams into your quads as you climb out of Buena Vista. Once on top, turn right, and ride south on Red Oak Road into the hamlet of the same name.
At the end of Red Oak’s main drag, turn right on Beaver Road and ride over the Richland Creek watershed up to Scheider Road. Ride Scheider south to Cederville Road. Turn right on Cederville and left on Scioto Mills Road. Watch behind for fast moving vehicles as you prepare to turn on to Scioto Mills Road.
Follow Scioto Mills Road south and east into Scioto Mills. Just after you cross the Jane Addams bike path, turn right on Iris Hill Road and continue south until you "T" into Winneshiek Road. Turn right on Winneshiek and follow that back to Highland College via Harlem Center, Lily Creek, and Van Brocklin Roads, Stephenson Street, and Kiwanis Drive.
So there you have it. Thirty miles with a Ewe Turn of sheeply splendour. What more could you desire on a bright spring Saturday morning?
Ewe Turn Trivia – You’ll cross the Jane Addams Bike Path four times at Buena Vista, Red Oak, Scioto Mills, and Winneshiek Road.
Finally, our thanks to Commodore Dennis Robinson for naming one of our favorite bike rides in Stephenson County.
There are hundreds of bucolic gravel roads hidden around the Upper Left-Hand Corner of Illinois and never enough paved ones. So, when we discover a remote and scenic tarmac, we treasure it, hold it in our collective memory, and praise its aesthetic rewards.
One Sunday morning in late April, Lyle Krug introduced us to just such a route. Growing up near Orangeville, Illinois, Lyle has had ample time to sample nearly every road between Freeport and Monroe. So come ride with us in the charming lambscape where sheep safely graze, and please hold all jokes about our four legged friends.
To get to the Ewe Turn from Highland Community College, take Kiwanis north to Stephenson Street and west to Van Brocklin Road. Continue north on Van Brocklyn to Lily Creek Road. Turn right on Lily Creek and ride to the next left at Harlem Center Road. Continue north on Harlem Center Road across Business 20 and over the US 20 Bypass. Take the first left on Winneshiek Road after you cross over the Bypass, and ride west up the hill to the "T" at AYP Road.
Turn right on AYP, and ride north to the next "T" at Cedarville Road. Turn right and ride 2,000 feet, across the Pecatonica River bridge, to Damascus Road. Turn left and ride north on Damascus Road three and a quarter miles and turn left on West Empire Road.
Now, enjoy the first leg of the Ewe Turn. You’ll have just enough time to peek at the scenery as you descend eight tenths of a mile down this narrow tree lined road. Just before the gravel at the bottom of the hill, turn right on Korth Road.
This is the second leg of our Ewe Turn. We’ll ride north with the shade of the hillside on our right up the grade to the iron fence styles. Now, you may stop, look, and listen for our fuzzy friends grazing peacefully in green pastures.
After bidding the ewes adieu, Korth Road falls away and jambs into McConnell Road. Watch for traffic as you turn right, and commence the third leg of the Ewe Turn. You are riding east two and three quarter miles over Richland Creek into rustic Buena Vista.
Lyle’s Ewe Turn is a three-legged ewe which rams into your quads as you climb out of Buena Vista. Once on top, turn right, and ride south on Red Oak Road into the hamlet of the same name.
At the end of Red Oak’s main drag, turn right on Beaver Road and ride over the Richland Creek watershed up to Scheider Road. Ride Scheider south to Cederville Road. Turn right on Cederville and left on Scioto Mills Road. Watch behind for fast moving vehicles as you prepare to turn on to Scioto Mills Road.
Follow Scioto Mills Road south and east into Scioto Mills. Just after you cross the Jane Addams bike path, turn right on Iris Hill Road and continue south until you "T" into Winneshiek Road. Turn right on Winneshiek and follow that back to Highland College via Harlem Center, Lily Creek, and Van Brocklin Roads, Stephenson Street, and Kiwanis Drive.
So there you have it. Thirty miles with a Ewe Turn of sheeply splendour. What more could you desire on a bright spring Saturday morning?
Ewe Turn Trivia – You’ll cross the Jane Addams Bike Path four times at Buena Vista, Red Oak, Scioto Mills, and Winneshiek Road.
Finally, our thanks to Commodore Dennis Robinson for naming one of our favorite bike rides in Stephenson County.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Pilgrimage to El Sanctuario de Chimayo
El Sanctuario de Chimayo in northern New Mexico is a sacred place long valued for its healing powers. On Good Friday and Easter Sunday the roadside up from Nambe will be jammed with pilgrims young and old who park their cars and hike to El Sanctuario.
Somehow the Spiritual Presence eludes me in a large crowd. Rather, a quiet May Tuesday was a better time to make my pilgrimage. And rather than hoof it, I rode up on an Eddy Merckx CHM road racing bike. David Bell at Mellow Velo in Santa Fe rented me the Merckx in exchange for installing new shifter levers on my vintage Vitus 979.
We drove north from Santa Fe to NM Route 503 in Nambe and parked my mom’s ‘89’ Pontiac “amigo- mobile” along the shady road side just up from the intersection at US 83/285. Carefully lifting the brand new carbon fiber Merckx out of the boot, I inserted the Campy front wheel and water bottles, and we were off.
NM 503 is smooth and shaded as you ride up the gentle grade. Nambe nestles in a quaint valley of cottonwoods and mountain streams. Then the road rises up into the high desert of pinons and junipers, and you are rewarded with grand vistas of the Sangre de Cristo and Jemez mountains.
The climb up NM 503 is steady and not at all punishing providing you've adjusted to the altitude. We’re riding between 6,000 and 7,000 feet and need a day or two to get our lungs acclimated. After seven and three quarter miles, we turned left on NM 520. Very soon, we were flying down a long grade into Chimayo. I could hear the sound of swarming cicadas over the wind in my ears. It was coming from the Campy freewheel.
The front brake of the Merckx protested a little as we approached the cattle crossing at the bottom of the hill. Immediately after the crossing, I turned right on Sanctuario Drive.
El Sanctuario de Chimayo was peaceful humility in the May morning air. In the absence of pilgrims and tourists, the silence was only broken by a gentle breeze off the mountains. I was tranquilized by this Holy Place and could very nearly hear my heart beat. Riding a bike seemed the perfect pilgrimage.
I believe I reflected on my ailments— the achy back and knees and knotted quads we bike riders endure. I thought I might leave a water bottle or my spare inner tube in the tiny room off the sacristy as a confirmation of my faith in the curing powers of the dirt contained in this lovely sanctuary.
Then my mind briefly turned to the climb out of Chimayo, and before I knew it, I was on the Merckx peddling up the long steep road. The effort was surprisingly little, and my cadence was deliberate and not at all anxious. I stayed in the saddle transfixed in a rhythm coming from deep inside.
Then, I recalled last year’s bike ride to El Sanctuario where the same phenomenon occurred. It was not the light and agile Merckx which was helping me power up the grade but something more significant.
Perhaps here was a formula for the mystery of faith-- rigorous exercise rolling up to a lofty view then plummeting into the solitude of a pastoral sanctuary. The reward is to be refreshed and refocused on the task at hand. And after you have recharged your spiritual batteries and have crested the climb out of Chimayo, a magnificent vista and roll await on your eight mile descent back to Nambe.
I do admit that the Eddy Merckx CHM was very comfortable and responsive-- a light but firm “big guy’s” carbon fiber bike. David Mill’s set-up may have over-geared me for the climb out of Chimayo, but I had acquired something extra special on my pilgrimage.
Somehow the Spiritual Presence eludes me in a large crowd. Rather, a quiet May Tuesday was a better time to make my pilgrimage. And rather than hoof it, I rode up on an Eddy Merckx CHM road racing bike. David Bell at Mellow Velo in Santa Fe rented me the Merckx in exchange for installing new shifter levers on my vintage Vitus 979.
We drove north from Santa Fe to NM Route 503 in Nambe and parked my mom’s ‘89’ Pontiac “amigo- mobile” along the shady road side just up from the intersection at US 83/285. Carefully lifting the brand new carbon fiber Merckx out of the boot, I inserted the Campy front wheel and water bottles, and we were off.
NM 503 is smooth and shaded as you ride up the gentle grade. Nambe nestles in a quaint valley of cottonwoods and mountain streams. Then the road rises up into the high desert of pinons and junipers, and you are rewarded with grand vistas of the Sangre de Cristo and Jemez mountains.
The climb up NM 503 is steady and not at all punishing providing you've adjusted to the altitude. We’re riding between 6,000 and 7,000 feet and need a day or two to get our lungs acclimated. After seven and three quarter miles, we turned left on NM 520. Very soon, we were flying down a long grade into Chimayo. I could hear the sound of swarming cicadas over the wind in my ears. It was coming from the Campy freewheel.
The front brake of the Merckx protested a little as we approached the cattle crossing at the bottom of the hill. Immediately after the crossing, I turned right on Sanctuario Drive.
El Sanctuario de Chimayo was peaceful humility in the May morning air. In the absence of pilgrims and tourists, the silence was only broken by a gentle breeze off the mountains. I was tranquilized by this Holy Place and could very nearly hear my heart beat. Riding a bike seemed the perfect pilgrimage.
I believe I reflected on my ailments— the achy back and knees and knotted quads we bike riders endure. I thought I might leave a water bottle or my spare inner tube in the tiny room off the sacristy as a confirmation of my faith in the curing powers of the dirt contained in this lovely sanctuary.
Then my mind briefly turned to the climb out of Chimayo, and before I knew it, I was on the Merckx peddling up the long steep road. The effort was surprisingly little, and my cadence was deliberate and not at all anxious. I stayed in the saddle transfixed in a rhythm coming from deep inside.
Then, I recalled last year’s bike ride to El Sanctuario where the same phenomenon occurred. It was not the light and agile Merckx which was helping me power up the grade but something more significant.
Perhaps here was a formula for the mystery of faith-- rigorous exercise rolling up to a lofty view then plummeting into the solitude of a pastoral sanctuary. The reward is to be refreshed and refocused on the task at hand. And after you have recharged your spiritual batteries and have crested the climb out of Chimayo, a magnificent vista and roll await on your eight mile descent back to Nambe.
I do admit that the Eddy Merckx CHM was very comfortable and responsive-- a light but firm “big guy’s” carbon fiber bike. David Mill’s set-up may have over-geared me for the climb out of Chimayo, but I had acquired something extra special on my pilgrimage.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Photos Galore
Thanks to J.Paul Getty, we have Getty Images. And thanks to Getty Images, we have a wealth of cycling photos. Check them out sometime when the weather is lousy, and you're indoors with a hankering for such things. Who knows, perhaps one day Getty Images will feature photos of the Upper Left Hand Corner of Illinois.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Spare the Rod
Commodore Dennis Robinson has been tweaking his P-38 Lightning recumbent over the past several years. He’s added lighter wheels, lighter tires, a lighter carbon crank set, and lighter more fluid pulleys. He even lightened his own corpus to gain more speed to challenge his Lightning squadron and brash upright bike riders who refuse to acknowledge the recumbent rider as their equal.
After all his lightening of the Lightning, Dennis saw the light. He abandoned his beloved P-38 and purchased a titanium Bacchetta Aero recumbent with a molded carbon fiber seat.
Now, I thought, “this is very cool. Let’s ride out to Kent on Tuesday afternoon, meet up with Dennis, and check out his new wheels.”
To get to Kent, I chose the most direct route from my house. I rode up Van Brocklin Road to Pearl City Road and turned left on the smooth new tarmac surface. The wind appeared to be out of the north, but now I was rolling quite nicely west towards Pearl City.
After about two and a half miles, I turned north on Rink Road and followed that up to Dublin Road. Turning left on Dublin I was in the gravel for about four miles. This was fluffy sandy stuff with only sparse sections of hard pack. But this is a scenic section of Dublin Road-- an undulating terroir unseen by most riders on road bikes.
After crossing over Route 73, Dublin Road becomes a nice blacktop surface and stays that way for another four and a third miles until one arrives at the corner of Kent and Sunnyside Roads.
Turning right into a stiff northerly wind on Sunnyside Road, I began to wonder if Dennis had left his clinic in Stockton. The wind was howling me deaf, so I pulled out the cell phone and stuck it in my ear. Just then, I saw the Commodore up ahead.
We exchanged pleasantries and decided to ride south through Kent down to Goldmine Road. But I was eager to feel the weight of the Titanium Bacchetta (Italian for stick or rod), so we stopped in front of Fannucan’s Tavern. As I lifted it up, I was completely amazed at this new breed of recumbent. It felt lighter than my Trek 2100.
I now began to sense what lay ahead on the road home. “Lighter Dennis with big long powerful legs on super slippery light bent seeks upright for dinner.”
Off we went over the big rollers down Kent Road. No matter I was running a 50 tooth chain ring versus his 55. This guy was well and truly gone. And gone he stayed for the next five miles over Goldmine Road until our Commodore pulled up at Flack Road and condescended to ask me for a screwdriver so he could make an adjustment.
And it didn’t make any difference that I was carrying the extra weight of tools on my 2100. This titanium rod was very hot indeed—hot and slippery like a knife thru butta.
Things tamed as we resumed our roll down Goldmine to Pearl City. Just like old times on our P-38s, our Commodore was becoming affable again. We turned left and headed east on Pearl City Road into the afternoon go-home traffic. Dennis suggested we detour off Pearl City Road onto Babbs Grove Road.
As we turned north into the wind, the Commodore again laid down the gauntlet. Now, I was shouting after him that I might have ridden “Bump n Jam” rather than endure such ill treatment. We rounded the corner and headed east. The wind was still hard at us, but Dennis let me catch him. Now, I anxiously anticipated what was coming a mile up the road. Babbs Grove Hill is a short thigh stabbing grade, and I was certain the Commodore intended to drive his titanium stick into my legs.
On this quick steep climb, I was barely able to stay on his wheel. Over the top, the “T- Rod” shot ahead down the long eastern slope. This attack, I thought, was not even worthy of a response.
Again, the Commodore let me catch up. And as we rejoined the smooth surface of Pearl City road, I thought I might tuck into a draft on his wheel. Here was my most troubling discovery.
I found myself fighting to find any sort of shelter. There was no draft to be had behind this slippery stick. The narrow width and slick bottom surface of his carbon fiber seat erased any hint of drag.
Equally disturbing was that the Commodore’s “T-Rod” could draft along on my wheel without so much as his rotating the peddles.
That, folks, was my first experience riding with a Bacchetta Aero. I admonish anyone desiring to test the metal of the Commodore and his “T-Rod.” If you are a seasoned rider on board a Trek Madone or some other professional grade velo, consider your odds even. If not, hang back with the rest of us mortals in the safety and comfort of the pelaton. Your place in the “old school” shall remain welcomed and secure.
After all his lightening of the Lightning, Dennis saw the light. He abandoned his beloved P-38 and purchased a titanium Bacchetta Aero recumbent with a molded carbon fiber seat.
Now, I thought, “this is very cool. Let’s ride out to Kent on Tuesday afternoon, meet up with Dennis, and check out his new wheels.”
To get to Kent, I chose the most direct route from my house. I rode up Van Brocklin Road to Pearl City Road and turned left on the smooth new tarmac surface. The wind appeared to be out of the north, but now I was rolling quite nicely west towards Pearl City.
After about two and a half miles, I turned north on Rink Road and followed that up to Dublin Road. Turning left on Dublin I was in the gravel for about four miles. This was fluffy sandy stuff with only sparse sections of hard pack. But this is a scenic section of Dublin Road-- an undulating terroir unseen by most riders on road bikes.
After crossing over Route 73, Dublin Road becomes a nice blacktop surface and stays that way for another four and a third miles until one arrives at the corner of Kent and Sunnyside Roads.
Turning right into a stiff northerly wind on Sunnyside Road, I began to wonder if Dennis had left his clinic in Stockton. The wind was howling me deaf, so I pulled out the cell phone and stuck it in my ear. Just then, I saw the Commodore up ahead.
We exchanged pleasantries and decided to ride south through Kent down to Goldmine Road. But I was eager to feel the weight of the Titanium Bacchetta (Italian for stick or rod), so we stopped in front of Fannucan’s Tavern. As I lifted it up, I was completely amazed at this new breed of recumbent. It felt lighter than my Trek 2100.
I now began to sense what lay ahead on the road home. “Lighter Dennis with big long powerful legs on super slippery light bent seeks upright for dinner.”
Off we went over the big rollers down Kent Road. No matter I was running a 50 tooth chain ring versus his 55. This guy was well and truly gone. And gone he stayed for the next five miles over Goldmine Road until our Commodore pulled up at Flack Road and condescended to ask me for a screwdriver so he could make an adjustment.
And it didn’t make any difference that I was carrying the extra weight of tools on my 2100. This titanium rod was very hot indeed—hot and slippery like a knife thru butta.
Things tamed as we resumed our roll down Goldmine to Pearl City. Just like old times on our P-38s, our Commodore was becoming affable again. We turned left and headed east on Pearl City Road into the afternoon go-home traffic. Dennis suggested we detour off Pearl City Road onto Babbs Grove Road.
As we turned north into the wind, the Commodore again laid down the gauntlet. Now, I was shouting after him that I might have ridden “Bump n Jam” rather than endure such ill treatment. We rounded the corner and headed east. The wind was still hard at us, but Dennis let me catch him. Now, I anxiously anticipated what was coming a mile up the road. Babbs Grove Hill is a short thigh stabbing grade, and I was certain the Commodore intended to drive his titanium stick into my legs.
On this quick steep climb, I was barely able to stay on his wheel. Over the top, the “T- Rod” shot ahead down the long eastern slope. This attack, I thought, was not even worthy of a response.
Again, the Commodore let me catch up. And as we rejoined the smooth surface of Pearl City road, I thought I might tuck into a draft on his wheel. Here was my most troubling discovery.
I found myself fighting to find any sort of shelter. There was no draft to be had behind this slippery stick. The narrow width and slick bottom surface of his carbon fiber seat erased any hint of drag.
Equally disturbing was that the Commodore’s “T-Rod” could draft along on my wheel without so much as his rotating the peddles.
That, folks, was my first experience riding with a Bacchetta Aero. I admonish anyone desiring to test the metal of the Commodore and his “T-Rod.” If you are a seasoned rider on board a Trek Madone or some other professional grade velo, consider your odds even. If not, hang back with the rest of us mortals in the safety and comfort of the pelaton. Your place in the “old school” shall remain welcomed and secure.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Classic Cobbles
Can a banker, chiropractor and computer systems manager enjoy a week at the Spring Classics in Belgium & Northern France? You bet.
Ron Mattson, who owns the Freeport Bicycle Company and manages the digital world at the Monroe Clinic emailed his conclusions to Cycleupperleft.
"See attached pic of the 50+ miles of pave I road over without any issues or flats (Bontrager race lite 700x25 tires/tubes), Bontrager Race lite carbon fork, SRAM Rival groupo (didn't miss a shift). I saw hundreds of people fixing flats & bikes. My hands are still healing up but I love the cobbles! We road over 500 miles for the week.
The pros are out of this world!"
Ron and his buddies, Bob Kenneke and Mark Wright tickled the cobbles, and they tickled back.
Ron Mattson, who owns the Freeport Bicycle Company and manages the digital world at the Monroe Clinic emailed his conclusions to Cycleupperleft.
"See attached pic of the 50+ miles of pave I road over without any issues or flats (Bontrager race lite 700x25 tires/tubes), Bontrager Race lite carbon fork, SRAM Rival groupo (didn't miss a shift). I saw hundreds of people fixing flats & bikes. My hands are still healing up but I love the cobbles! We road over 500 miles for the week.
The pros are out of this world!"
Ron and his buddies, Bob Kenneke and Mark Wright tickled the cobbles, and they tickled back.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Dusting Off April
It is Easter week, and we’ve had a string of sunny weather in the Upper Left Hand Corner of Illinois. That’s the good news.
We’ve also been hovering in the 30s, and the cold winds have been very strong and gusty out of the northwest. So, we riders have been seeking shelter.
There are many paved cycling roads in the Upper Left, and most are exposed to the wicked blows in early spring. Thankfully, we have plenty of good scenic gravel roads carved through the hills. These are shadowed by trees bordering creeks and brushy fence rows.
To escape the ugly winds, I spent three days in the dusty gravel on my Trek 2100. And I’m happy to report that my Bontrager Race Lite 700x25 tires have performed fantastically on the rocky surface.
Although rounded on the edges and flat in the center, they’re extremely tough and easy to control. A mountain bike with big knobbies is a boring blunderbuss by comparison. I took the leap of faith, stayed off the brakes, and let the Race Lites roll!
So here’s our dusty trail out of Highland Community College. Head west on Pearl City Road to Van Brocklin Road. For safety’s sake, always stay to the right of the fog line as you ride on Pearl City Road.
Turn left and head south on Van Brocklin. At the next corner, turn right and continue on Van Brocklin to Burr Oak Road. Turn right on Burr Oak and ride the gravel west across Bolton Road until Burr Oak tees up to Voss Road.
Turn left on Voss Road and ride south past Don and Janey’s Arabian horse farm. Around the corner, Voss Road becomes Kermit Road. Follow that back east to Bolton Road and good old blacktop.
Turn right on Bolton Road and ride across Yellow Creek. After the creek und the curve, turn right on Loran Road and follow that up the hill. At South Voss Road, you’ll be back on the gravel again. Try to stay off the brakes and pick a line where you can avoid large rocks and clusters of small ones.
Loran Road meanders along the south bank of Yellow Creek. The countryside is lovely along this stretch as you ride high above the creek over to Mill Grove Road. Turn right on Mill Grove, and now you’re on a chip sealed surface as you loop back across Yellow Creek up through the Owl’s Glen.
At the top of the hill, you’ll tee into Block Road. Turn right, and follow Block past the Emerald Acres Campground over two nice rollers up to Pearl City Road. Turn right on Pearl City Road, and remember to watch for heavy traffic. Just after the left-hand curve, turn right again on Voss Road and gravel.
Follow Voss Road back to Kermit Road and east to the Bolton blacktop. Turn right on Bolton Road and left on Van Brocklin Road before you cross Yellow Creek. Ride back up Van Brocklin to the stop sign. Turn left and follow Van Brocklin north to Pearl City Road. Turn right and ride east back to Highland College.
Our route has taken us nearly twenty miles. We’ve dusted our tires, honed our bike handling skills and are ready to head for Paris-Roubaix.
We’ve also been hovering in the 30s, and the cold winds have been very strong and gusty out of the northwest. So, we riders have been seeking shelter.
There are many paved cycling roads in the Upper Left, and most are exposed to the wicked blows in early spring. Thankfully, we have plenty of good scenic gravel roads carved through the hills. These are shadowed by trees bordering creeks and brushy fence rows.
To escape the ugly winds, I spent three days in the dusty gravel on my Trek 2100. And I’m happy to report that my Bontrager Race Lite 700x25 tires have performed fantastically on the rocky surface.
Although rounded on the edges and flat in the center, they’re extremely tough and easy to control. A mountain bike with big knobbies is a boring blunderbuss by comparison. I took the leap of faith, stayed off the brakes, and let the Race Lites roll!
So here’s our dusty trail out of Highland Community College. Head west on Pearl City Road to Van Brocklin Road. For safety’s sake, always stay to the right of the fog line as you ride on Pearl City Road.
Turn left and head south on Van Brocklin. At the next corner, turn right and continue on Van Brocklin to Burr Oak Road. Turn right on Burr Oak and ride the gravel west across Bolton Road until Burr Oak tees up to Voss Road.
Turn left on Voss Road and ride south past Don and Janey’s Arabian horse farm. Around the corner, Voss Road becomes Kermit Road. Follow that back east to Bolton Road and good old blacktop.
Turn right on Bolton Road and ride across Yellow Creek. After the creek und the curve, turn right on Loran Road and follow that up the hill. At South Voss Road, you’ll be back on the gravel again. Try to stay off the brakes and pick a line where you can avoid large rocks and clusters of small ones.
Loran Road meanders along the south bank of Yellow Creek. The countryside is lovely along this stretch as you ride high above the creek over to Mill Grove Road. Turn right on Mill Grove, and now you’re on a chip sealed surface as you loop back across Yellow Creek up through the Owl’s Glen.
At the top of the hill, you’ll tee into Block Road. Turn right, and follow Block past the Emerald Acres Campground over two nice rollers up to Pearl City Road. Turn right on Pearl City Road, and remember to watch for heavy traffic. Just after the left-hand curve, turn right again on Voss Road and gravel.
Follow Voss Road back to Kermit Road and east to the Bolton blacktop. Turn right on Bolton Road and left on Van Brocklin Road before you cross Yellow Creek. Ride back up Van Brocklin to the stop sign. Turn left and follow Van Brocklin north to Pearl City Road. Turn right and ride east back to Highland College.
Our route has taken us nearly twenty miles. We’ve dusted our tires, honed our bike handling skills and are ready to head for Paris-Roubaix.
P.S. Ron Mattson from the Freeport Bicycle Company reports that his Bontrager Race Lites held up beautifully over the paves (cobblestones) on the Paris-Roubaix circuit.
April Fools
Sunday, April the 1st. We start our ride as usual from Highland College hoping for a thirty miler. But the wind builds out of the southwest, and clouds begin to roll in.
We ride west down Pearl City Road to Block Road, then south on Mill Grove Road through Owl’s Glen across the Yellow Creek. We work together to shelter each other from what is now a ferocious southern wind.
Turning right, we ride west along Loran Road. Andrew “the Psych” Soria reveals that the tech thing on his handle bar says it is a balmy 57 degrees. I scarcely believe my ears which are now freezing. The cold wind blows up my left nostril giving me a great pain in the sinus.
Ominous dark clouds continue to mount ahead in the west, and it begins to drizzle. It is time to bail.
Our fellow Honeywellers, Bill Leibman and Andrew Soria, have psycled in all sorts of nasty weather. Neither protests shortening this ride. So, we dodge north on Route 73 and time-trial it back from Pearl City beating our peddles in retreat. On the way, Andrew’s tech thing reads 49 degrees F. And this wind is out of the south??
Such is the promise of early April. Opening day at Wrigley Field brings nothing but rain and cold wet hot dogs. Shouldn’t we wait another month and go back to play in the palm trees and citrus groves?
Instead, we move daylight savings time forward, as hope ever springs eternal in the Upper Left Hand Corner of Illinois.
Monday, April 2nd finds us licking our wounds from yesterday’s spoils. Chuck Beichel and I meet at 4:15 in the afternoon to try again at our thirty mile ride. Today, the temperature has moderated along with the wind which is now a light northwest breeze.
We point our P-38 recumbents down the new tarmac on Pearl City Road. “Rush hour” traffic on Pearl City chases us on to Babbs Grove Road. We climb the long hump and plummet gleefully down the steep western slope.
Sunday’s episode is all but erased. Today, we are on a good roll.
From Pearl City, we ride west on Goldmine Road up the long lazy incline. The wind is barely a factor, as Chuck and I work together. Our reward is a grand descent into one of our favorite valleys in the Upper Left Hand Corner. At the bottom, we turn left off Goldmine onto South Kent Road.
Now, we’re in the big gear following our peddles and rolling effortlessly alongside the East Plum River between the ridgelines. With the wind pushing, South Kent Road is two and a half miles of wunderbar cycling.
At the church at Loran Road, we turn back east and climb the steep long hill with the wind at our backs. Then, it’s back down the east slope to Lott Road where we turn right.
Now, we reverse last month’s Marztag route following Lott Road over the rollers to Saben Church Road and back east towards home. This is a fine thirty mile ride out of Highland College. But ride it on a good day when the wind is light and westerly and in your favor.
We all have been two kinds of April Fools. We’ve wimped out and stayed at home when we should have been outside with our face in the wind. And we’ve beaten ourselves to death against a relentless cold gale. Today, Chuck and I got it right.
We ride west down Pearl City Road to Block Road, then south on Mill Grove Road through Owl’s Glen across the Yellow Creek. We work together to shelter each other from what is now a ferocious southern wind.
Turning right, we ride west along Loran Road. Andrew “the Psych” Soria reveals that the tech thing on his handle bar says it is a balmy 57 degrees. I scarcely believe my ears which are now freezing. The cold wind blows up my left nostril giving me a great pain in the sinus.
Ominous dark clouds continue to mount ahead in the west, and it begins to drizzle. It is time to bail.
Our fellow Honeywellers, Bill Leibman and Andrew Soria, have psycled in all sorts of nasty weather. Neither protests shortening this ride. So, we dodge north on Route 73 and time-trial it back from Pearl City beating our peddles in retreat. On the way, Andrew’s tech thing reads 49 degrees F. And this wind is out of the south??
Such is the promise of early April. Opening day at Wrigley Field brings nothing but rain and cold wet hot dogs. Shouldn’t we wait another month and go back to play in the palm trees and citrus groves?
Instead, we move daylight savings time forward, as hope ever springs eternal in the Upper Left Hand Corner of Illinois.
Monday, April 2nd finds us licking our wounds from yesterday’s spoils. Chuck Beichel and I meet at 4:15 in the afternoon to try again at our thirty mile ride. Today, the temperature has moderated along with the wind which is now a light northwest breeze.
We point our P-38 recumbents down the new tarmac on Pearl City Road. “Rush hour” traffic on Pearl City chases us on to Babbs Grove Road. We climb the long hump and plummet gleefully down the steep western slope.
Sunday’s episode is all but erased. Today, we are on a good roll.
From Pearl City, we ride west on Goldmine Road up the long lazy incline. The wind is barely a factor, as Chuck and I work together. Our reward is a grand descent into one of our favorite valleys in the Upper Left Hand Corner. At the bottom, we turn left off Goldmine onto South Kent Road.
Now, we’re in the big gear following our peddles and rolling effortlessly alongside the East Plum River between the ridgelines. With the wind pushing, South Kent Road is two and a half miles of wunderbar cycling.
At the church at Loran Road, we turn back east and climb the steep long hill with the wind at our backs. Then, it’s back down the east slope to Lott Road where we turn right.
Now, we reverse last month’s Marztag route following Lott Road over the rollers to Saben Church Road and back east towards home. This is a fine thirty mile ride out of Highland College. But ride it on a good day when the wind is light and westerly and in your favor.
We all have been two kinds of April Fools. We’ve wimped out and stayed at home when we should have been outside with our face in the wind. And we’ve beaten ourselves to death against a relentless cold gale. Today, Chuck and I got it right.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Marztag (March Day)
Uberall ein erstes Fruhlingslarmen.
Everywhere there is the first noise of spring.
A soft rosy afternoon light graces the muffled dribbling of a basketball on the driveway. The male cardinals sing as we fire up the Broilmaster again. It’s nearly time to celebrate spring, but we’re tempted by the teasin season and March Madness.
Here is a good route to take when the wind is west by northwest, but it's a wunderbar route when the wind is west by southwest. Ann Mattson from the Freeport Bicycle Company put me on to this last October, and we’ve done it three or four times these last two months. You’ll find a mix of flats and long gradual hills, with a few rollers in the middle. It's the perfect ride for the start of cycling year.
.
Chuck Beichel and I slip into our Lightning P-38 recumbent bikes and work together to shadow each other from the wind. Herr Beichel will punctuate our ride with Marztag, a German romantic poem by Detlev von Liliencron.
Our ride takes us southwest on Van Brocklin Road til it ends at Bolton Road. Turning left on Bolton, we ride to the corner of Florence and Shannon Roads.
Turning right, we continue west on Bolton Road to Saben Church Road. Then we turn right and follow Saben Church north and back west up a long lazy hill past the Mattson’s farm to Route 73.
Following Ann’s directions, we cross Route 73 and continue west on Saben Church Road to the “Tee” at Lott Road. Now, we turn right and sail with the southwest wind in our backs. As we reach the high point of this ride, Herr Beichel unfolds his newly memorized poem.
"Volkenshatten fliehen uber Felder, (Shadows of clouds fly over the fields,)
Blau umdunstet stehen ferne Walder." (Distant Forests stand with a blue haze around them.)
And that is exactly what we see from our overlook as we ride merrily over the rollers to Loran Road.
Turning right on Loran, we glide east down a long hill to Route 73. Crossing back over Route 73, we continue east to Mill Grove Road. In this broad flat valley, I sometimes think we’re in Kansas or Nebraska.
At Mill Grove Road, we turn left and ride north by north east over the bridge at Yellow Creek up past the Owl’s Club. Next to the old limestone building, you'll find cover from the hot summer sun. At the top of the hill near the Emerald Camp Ground, Mill Grove Road "Tees" up to Block Road.
We turn right on Block Road and ride over a couple nice rollers to Pearl City Road. Now, it's time to hoist the spinnaker and sail for home along the newly paved tarmac. The new road and shoulder are wide, but we’re careful to watch for traffic along this busy section.
Wollt’ es halten, musst’es schwimmen lassen.
I wanted to hold on to it, but had to let it float away.
Everywhere there is the first noise of spring.
A soft rosy afternoon light graces the muffled dribbling of a basketball on the driveway. The male cardinals sing as we fire up the Broilmaster again. It’s nearly time to celebrate spring, but we’re tempted by the teasin season and March Madness.
Here is a good route to take when the wind is west by northwest, but it's a wunderbar route when the wind is west by southwest. Ann Mattson from the Freeport Bicycle Company put me on to this last October, and we’ve done it three or four times these last two months. You’ll find a mix of flats and long gradual hills, with a few rollers in the middle. It's the perfect ride for the start of cycling year.
.
Chuck Beichel and I slip into our Lightning P-38 recumbent bikes and work together to shadow each other from the wind. Herr Beichel will punctuate our ride with Marztag, a German romantic poem by Detlev von Liliencron.
Our ride takes us southwest on Van Brocklin Road til it ends at Bolton Road. Turning left on Bolton, we ride to the corner of Florence and Shannon Roads.
Turning right, we continue west on Bolton Road to Saben Church Road. Then we turn right and follow Saben Church north and back west up a long lazy hill past the Mattson’s farm to Route 73.
Following Ann’s directions, we cross Route 73 and continue west on Saben Church Road to the “Tee” at Lott Road. Now, we turn right and sail with the southwest wind in our backs. As we reach the high point of this ride, Herr Beichel unfolds his newly memorized poem.
"Volkenshatten fliehen uber Felder, (Shadows of clouds fly over the fields,)
Blau umdunstet stehen ferne Walder." (Distant Forests stand with a blue haze around them.)
And that is exactly what we see from our overlook as we ride merrily over the rollers to Loran Road.
Turning right on Loran, we glide east down a long hill to Route 73. Crossing back over Route 73, we continue east to Mill Grove Road. In this broad flat valley, I sometimes think we’re in Kansas or Nebraska.
At Mill Grove Road, we turn left and ride north by north east over the bridge at Yellow Creek up past the Owl’s Club. Next to the old limestone building, you'll find cover from the hot summer sun. At the top of the hill near the Emerald Camp Ground, Mill Grove Road "Tees" up to Block Road.
We turn right on Block Road and ride over a couple nice rollers to Pearl City Road. Now, it's time to hoist the spinnaker and sail for home along the newly paved tarmac. The new road and shoulder are wide, but we’re careful to watch for traffic along this busy section.
Wollt’ es halten, musst’es schwimmen lassen.
I wanted to hold on to it, but had to let it float away.
Friday, March 9, 2007
March Sunday Granny 2006
Tough going on Saturday! We rode over the big hump to Pearl City on Babbs Grove Road. Continuing west on Goldmine Road into the Loran valley, we braved the big climb out. With 15 miles to get home, the last five was head down into a gusty north wind.
Cycling in March puts your face in a wind no matter which direction you ride. We had the sun to lift our spirits, but still, legs were spent and the tanks emptied.
On Sunday the sun climbed into an azure sky. I called Chuck Beichel about a 9 AM start. "It’s cold; 28 degrees—well maybe 30. Think I’ll ride later or walk today."
Forget yesterday's tired legs. Out we went into the sun and another March blow.
It was early in the season, and we were glad to have a triple crankset with the little "granny" chain ring. Just deflect the wind, stay in ole granny, and spin away.
Riding up bumpy Van Brocklin, we turned west on Stephenson Road and headed over to Rink Road with the wind slapping at our right shoulder.
Turning right on Rink, we kept our head down as far as US Route 20, and continued across. The newly paved section of Rink Road north of 20 was a pleasant relief. The hills and the woods sheltered us from the stiff March wind.
Arriving at Cedarville Road, we reversed the route, hoisted the spinnaker, and sailed for home happy for our granny gear, the sun in our face and clear roads in March.
Cycling in March puts your face in a wind no matter which direction you ride. We had the sun to lift our spirits, but still, legs were spent and the tanks emptied.
On Sunday the sun climbed into an azure sky. I called Chuck Beichel about a 9 AM start. "It’s cold; 28 degrees—well maybe 30. Think I’ll ride later or walk today."
Forget yesterday's tired legs. Out we went into the sun and another March blow.
It was early in the season, and we were glad to have a triple crankset with the little "granny" chain ring. Just deflect the wind, stay in ole granny, and spin away.
Riding up bumpy Van Brocklin, we turned west on Stephenson Road and headed over to Rink Road with the wind slapping at our right shoulder.
Turning right on Rink, we kept our head down as far as US Route 20, and continued across. The newly paved section of Rink Road north of 20 was a pleasant relief. The hills and the woods sheltered us from the stiff March wind.
Arriving at Cedarville Road, we reversed the route, hoisted the spinnaker, and sailed for home happy for our granny gear, the sun in our face and clear roads in March.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Providence in Las Cruces
Providence! We finally get a break from February’s icy grip. Our niece, Sarah, was to be wed in Las Cruces, New Mexico, and we were invited along with her Godparents, Captain Larry & Mrs. Susan Barton, our friends from Janesville. El Capitan is celebrating his fiftieth year as a private pilot and graciously bid us to join them on board Barton Airways.
It was seven below at Rock County Airport on the morning of February 15. But we were ILS filed and wheels up and headed for the Lower Middle of New Mexico. As we climbed towards our cruising altitude of 12,000 feet, I saluted the frozen Upper Left Hand Corner of Illinois.
One stop and seven hours later, we were descending into Las Cruces. Barton Airways flys a Beechcraft Bonanza, replete with turbo-charger and GPS navigation. This is one quick airplane considering we took an hour for lunch and gas in Hutchinson, Kansas along with an unexpected diversion.
On our way into The Crosses, air traffic control in Albuquerque obliged us to detour around the military missile ranges and Hutchinson Air Force Base. We checked out the White Sands from a safe distance and briefly chased an F-16 until he lit his burners.
Las Cruces has the dubious distinction of being the second fastest growing retirement community in the US. We were not surprised to see rampant growth and franchise frenzy. No matter, because it was sunny n sixty and we were here to celebrate the unity of our fair and elegant Sarah and her man Josh.
We were also grateful that our daughter Katie drove down from Santa Fe to join in the fun. Kate was so thoughtful to stuff my dear old Vitus 979 in the trunk of her amigo mobile. The thought of getting back on a bike in sunny dry weather was Providence itself.
Booming Las Cruces crowds the Mesilla Valley. The valley is historic and agriculturally interesting despite its flatness. The river that runs through it is the Rio Grande—a long lazy sometimes trickle which ambles down the middle of New Mexico to form the border with Old Mexico. Up north, just west of Taos, the Rio Grande rushes through a deep black snake of a gorge, impatiently dependent on the snows in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains to push it into the broad flat valleys further south.
The Mesilla Valley is the last to be served in New Mexico. Here, the Leasburg Dam diverts the Rio’s flowage to irrigate acres of onion and cotton farms and a forest of pecan trees.
When you’re cycling through such arid country, it is providence to find the shelter of any kind of tree. In the Mesilla Valley you’ll ride through groves of them, a vast stretch of man (and machine) pruned pecan shade along Highway 28.
Thanks to Nicole Blouin and her book, Road Biking New Mexico, I was directed from our hotel towards New Mexico State University. At the north edge of the campus near the Pan Am Plaza, is Milagro’s Coffee Y Espresso. I would never have found it had I not caught up with a local rider named Ty who had passed me on South Triviz Drive.
Ty led us down to Milagro’s where we joined several other Saturday morning riders. This was obviously a bike friendly place for a coffee. Two quick shots of espresso, and we were forming up. I accepted a couple compliments on my vintage Vitus as we rode west on East University Avenue.
We took a couple jogs around the historic town of La Mesilla. At Snow Road (Route 372), I bid farewell to the group and turned southeast. Now, I was rolling happily alongside the pecan trees and freshly worked fields. I crossed over Route 28, and continued east to Route 478. The morning sky was clear and blue, and the Organ Mountains rose up in the east like the spiny back of giant pink iguana.
At Route 478, I turned southeast and followed that down to Mesquite and Route 192. Turning right on 192, we headed back west across the Rio Grande to San Miguel. I couldn’t resist riding down Route 28 to La Mesa to photograph Chope’s Tavern and Café.
On Josh’s recommendation, we (Fondas and Bartons) ate lunch at Chope’s the day before and confirmed that they have the best Chiles Rellegnos in the Valley. These arrive at your table as three deep-fat fried poblano chiles stuffed with cheese. Naturally, the chiles followed Chope’s homemade chips and salsa. For dessert, we had sopaipillas, a deep-fat fried puffed pastry with honey to squeeze into the cavity. All this was washed down with a good amber Mexican beer. We now know why the Mexicanos love their siestas.
When you arrive at La Mesa, “Chopes” (the restaurant) is on the El Paso side of its more colorful tavern cousin. Note photo of Vitus leaning against the tavern.
From Chope’s, I headed back north on Route 28 through San Miguel and Stahmann’s great pecan forest. North of this huge orchard, I crossed the Rio Grande and turned left on Snow Road. Snow Road continues northwest to the stop sign at Calle del Norte (Route 359). By Nicole Blouin’s calculation, this is about five miles, and neither Calle del Norte nor Route 350 are marked as far as I could tell.
So, I crossed myself, turned left, and headed west over the Rio Grande. Just beyond the bridge, Calle del Norte turns north and becomes a bumpy Fairacres Road. I was comforted by my dear old Vitus with its new Douglas Carbon saddle as I rolled happily along this stretch.
As you pass beneath Interstate 10, Fairacres Road turns east to a Tee then continues north up to US Route 70 and West Picacho Avenue. Turning right on US 70, I rode back east towards Las Cruces. The traffic along 70 was heavy, and I was glad to have a good shoulder.
At the first stop light, you can turn back north on Shalem County Trail and follow Nicole Blouin’s sixty mile Mesilla Valley Cruise. But I had arranged to hook up at the Downtown Farmer’s Market and so continued east across the Rio Grande.
Our thanks to Sarah & Josh for gettin hitched in Las Cruces. A huge thanks to Larry & Susan for a grand flight down and back on Barton Airways. We’ll never stop laughing about our self-induced gavage at Chope’s. And thanks to Katie for hauling dear ole Vitus from Santa Fe.
The week after Providence, the thermometer soared into the 40s and we had three good rides back in our Upper Left Hand Corner of Illinois. February was not lost to us after all.
It was seven below at Rock County Airport on the morning of February 15. But we were ILS filed and wheels up and headed for the Lower Middle of New Mexico. As we climbed towards our cruising altitude of 12,000 feet, I saluted the frozen Upper Left Hand Corner of Illinois.
One stop and seven hours later, we were descending into Las Cruces. Barton Airways flys a Beechcraft Bonanza, replete with turbo-charger and GPS navigation. This is one quick airplane considering we took an hour for lunch and gas in Hutchinson, Kansas along with an unexpected diversion.
On our way into The Crosses, air traffic control in Albuquerque obliged us to detour around the military missile ranges and Hutchinson Air Force Base. We checked out the White Sands from a safe distance and briefly chased an F-16 until he lit his burners.
Las Cruces has the dubious distinction of being the second fastest growing retirement community in the US. We were not surprised to see rampant growth and franchise frenzy. No matter, because it was sunny n sixty and we were here to celebrate the unity of our fair and elegant Sarah and her man Josh.
We were also grateful that our daughter Katie drove down from Santa Fe to join in the fun. Kate was so thoughtful to stuff my dear old Vitus 979 in the trunk of her amigo mobile. The thought of getting back on a bike in sunny dry weather was Providence itself.
Booming Las Cruces crowds the Mesilla Valley. The valley is historic and agriculturally interesting despite its flatness. The river that runs through it is the Rio Grande—a long lazy sometimes trickle which ambles down the middle of New Mexico to form the border with Old Mexico. Up north, just west of Taos, the Rio Grande rushes through a deep black snake of a gorge, impatiently dependent on the snows in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains to push it into the broad flat valleys further south.
The Mesilla Valley is the last to be served in New Mexico. Here, the Leasburg Dam diverts the Rio’s flowage to irrigate acres of onion and cotton farms and a forest of pecan trees.
When you’re cycling through such arid country, it is providence to find the shelter of any kind of tree. In the Mesilla Valley you’ll ride through groves of them, a vast stretch of man (and machine) pruned pecan shade along Highway 28.
Thanks to Nicole Blouin and her book, Road Biking New Mexico, I was directed from our hotel towards New Mexico State University. At the north edge of the campus near the Pan Am Plaza, is Milagro’s Coffee Y Espresso. I would never have found it had I not caught up with a local rider named Ty who had passed me on South Triviz Drive.
Ty led us down to Milagro’s where we joined several other Saturday morning riders. This was obviously a bike friendly place for a coffee. Two quick shots of espresso, and we were forming up. I accepted a couple compliments on my vintage Vitus as we rode west on East University Avenue.
We took a couple jogs around the historic town of La Mesilla. At Snow Road (Route 372), I bid farewell to the group and turned southeast. Now, I was rolling happily alongside the pecan trees and freshly worked fields. I crossed over Route 28, and continued east to Route 478. The morning sky was clear and blue, and the Organ Mountains rose up in the east like the spiny back of giant pink iguana.
At Route 478, I turned southeast and followed that down to Mesquite and Route 192. Turning right on 192, we headed back west across the Rio Grande to San Miguel. I couldn’t resist riding down Route 28 to La Mesa to photograph Chope’s Tavern and Café.
On Josh’s recommendation, we (Fondas and Bartons) ate lunch at Chope’s the day before and confirmed that they have the best Chiles Rellegnos in the Valley. These arrive at your table as three deep-fat fried poblano chiles stuffed with cheese. Naturally, the chiles followed Chope’s homemade chips and salsa. For dessert, we had sopaipillas, a deep-fat fried puffed pastry with honey to squeeze into the cavity. All this was washed down with a good amber Mexican beer. We now know why the Mexicanos love their siestas.
When you arrive at La Mesa, “Chopes” (the restaurant) is on the El Paso side of its more colorful tavern cousin. Note photo of Vitus leaning against the tavern.
From Chope’s, I headed back north on Route 28 through San Miguel and Stahmann’s great pecan forest. North of this huge orchard, I crossed the Rio Grande and turned left on Snow Road. Snow Road continues northwest to the stop sign at Calle del Norte (Route 359). By Nicole Blouin’s calculation, this is about five miles, and neither Calle del Norte nor Route 350 are marked as far as I could tell.
So, I crossed myself, turned left, and headed west over the Rio Grande. Just beyond the bridge, Calle del Norte turns north and becomes a bumpy Fairacres Road. I was comforted by my dear old Vitus with its new Douglas Carbon saddle as I rolled happily along this stretch.
As you pass beneath Interstate 10, Fairacres Road turns east to a Tee then continues north up to US Route 70 and West Picacho Avenue. Turning right on US 70, I rode back east towards Las Cruces. The traffic along 70 was heavy, and I was glad to have a good shoulder.
At the first stop light, you can turn back north on Shalem County Trail and follow Nicole Blouin’s sixty mile Mesilla Valley Cruise. But I had arranged to hook up at the Downtown Farmer’s Market and so continued east across the Rio Grande.
Our thanks to Sarah & Josh for gettin hitched in Las Cruces. A huge thanks to Larry & Susan for a grand flight down and back on Barton Airways. We’ll never stop laughing about our self-induced gavage at Chope’s. And thanks to Katie for hauling dear ole Vitus from Santa Fe.
The week after Providence, the thermometer soared into the 40s and we had three good rides back in our Upper Left Hand Corner of Illinois. February was not lost to us after all.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
February Chill
Last year February was anything but blah. In fact, with temperatures lilting between thirty and fifty F., February of 2006 presented us over 200 miles of cycling. Complimenting such moderate temperatures, February road surfaces were unseasonably dry and free of ice.
February OSix was pretty typical of Februarys over the past several years in the Upper Left Hand Corner of Illinois. For nearly ten years, we took our dose of cold weather and snow in late November and early December. Then, as each New Year unfolded, we were teased by the hint of Spring.
But this February, the pigeons rushed home to roost. El Nino vanished, the jet stream dropped in out of Canada and the snows of old man arctic returned to remind us of Februarys past. This February we begged off cycling and are seriously considering snow shoes.
Our dilemma is we’ve been spoiled by outdoor cycling, and work on a trainer is just that. No amount of virtual digital sensory reality tech stuff can compensate for the crisp air in the lungs and the beauty of an afternoon winter light. We’re stuck in a funk between indoors and out.
Today’s lunch special at Mort’s was Italian beef sandwiches laced with pepperincini peppers, Mrs. Mike’s chips and two cups of jus. I was tucking into the first half of my sandwich when a friendly February chill walked through the door and slid up into the stool beside me.
With the first bite of his sandwich, the chill proclaimed, "Fondaman, there are a lot of calories in these sandwiches and chips. (pause & chew) Did you hear that Andrew rode his bike to work yesterday?"
"Yoric, we had a very big snow yesterday, and the thermometer hardly broke zero."
"I know. How psychotic? Never would I do that."
"I hope he was smart enough to get a lift home."
"I don’t really know, but I’m certain he must have. These Italian beef sandwiches sure pack the calories."
The caloric echo pegged my anxiety about not riding a bike these past two weeks. And, I was desperate to enjoy my favorite sandwich and chip combo without remorse. Psycho Andrew was out there on his bike to torture me. Would this atypical typical February ever relax its grip?
Some folks get all nostalgic about the good old days when we had "a real winter." Some sophisticated Midwesterners, high and dry away from seacoasts, prefer the coming of global warming. Why winterize ourselves away from our beloved Upper Left Hand Corner of Illinois and its glorious backdrop for bicycling?
Per me, I hope the Good Lord will soon brush the roads clear of ice and salt and raise the ambient to thirty five degrees F.
There’s still time to fill our lungs with crispy fresh winter air and marvel at the winter light in spite of a wee burr in the saddle. Perhaps before March we’ll be back to normal—whatever that is.
February OSix was pretty typical of Februarys over the past several years in the Upper Left Hand Corner of Illinois. For nearly ten years, we took our dose of cold weather and snow in late November and early December. Then, as each New Year unfolded, we were teased by the hint of Spring.
But this February, the pigeons rushed home to roost. El Nino vanished, the jet stream dropped in out of Canada and the snows of old man arctic returned to remind us of Februarys past. This February we begged off cycling and are seriously considering snow shoes.
Our dilemma is we’ve been spoiled by outdoor cycling, and work on a trainer is just that. No amount of virtual digital sensory reality tech stuff can compensate for the crisp air in the lungs and the beauty of an afternoon winter light. We’re stuck in a funk between indoors and out.
Today’s lunch special at Mort’s was Italian beef sandwiches laced with pepperincini peppers, Mrs. Mike’s chips and two cups of jus. I was tucking into the first half of my sandwich when a friendly February chill walked through the door and slid up into the stool beside me.
With the first bite of his sandwich, the chill proclaimed, "Fondaman, there are a lot of calories in these sandwiches and chips. (pause & chew) Did you hear that Andrew rode his bike to work yesterday?"
"Yoric, we had a very big snow yesterday, and the thermometer hardly broke zero."
"I know. How psychotic? Never would I do that."
"I hope he was smart enough to get a lift home."
"I don’t really know, but I’m certain he must have. These Italian beef sandwiches sure pack the calories."
The caloric echo pegged my anxiety about not riding a bike these past two weeks. And, I was desperate to enjoy my favorite sandwich and chip combo without remorse. Psycho Andrew was out there on his bike to torture me. Would this atypical typical February ever relax its grip?
Some folks get all nostalgic about the good old days when we had "a real winter." Some sophisticated Midwesterners, high and dry away from seacoasts, prefer the coming of global warming. Why winterize ourselves away from our beloved Upper Left Hand Corner of Illinois and its glorious backdrop for bicycling?
Per me, I hope the Good Lord will soon brush the roads clear of ice and salt and raise the ambient to thirty five degrees F.
There’s still time to fill our lungs with crispy fresh winter air and marvel at the winter light in spite of a wee burr in the saddle. Perhaps before March we’ll be back to normal—whatever that is.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Winter Trail Walk
It was a soft quiet winter Sunday morning as we pulled into the parking lot at the Jane Addams trailhead. Not a car was in sight; only the fresh show. I had an urge to shift from four to two-wheel drive and cut a couple of donuts before hoofing it up the trail.
As Sue Robinson and I stepped from my Chevy Blazer, Commodore Dennis (Robinson) was digitally recording the event for posterity. This was our first trail walk of the year—a four mile round trip to Scioto Mills.
The Jane Addams Trail stretches north from the trailhead through the bucolic burgs of Scioto Mills, Red Oak, Orangeville, Oneco, and Clarno on its way to Monroe, Wisconsin. We’ve walked and biked nearly every foot of it, save the newest section between Clarno and Monroe.
Occasionally we ride our bikes on the trail, but it is more satisfying as a walking path. The pace is slower and sensations stronger when draped in fall color and the bloomin bluebells in early spring.
The local snowmobile club helped construct and maintain this trail, and they've no doubt been itching to have fresh snow to ride on.
We weren’t long down the trail, before hearing a muffled rasp of a sled gliding up from behind. We scurried to the side of the trail to make way for three machines which passed us in short order. Once clear, they opened their throttles and sped away.
These motorini con skis are very powerful and fast. Their silent menacing exhaust note caused me to conjure up a suitable moniker from the past.
While in the Army at Fort Bliss, Texas, I reluctantly traded in my red "67" Alfa Duetto Spider for a 1971 BMW 1600 Sedan. Our beloved Alfa was ill suited to double dating, and we couldn't afford the more powerful and legendary 2002.
In those days, when you gassed up, an attendant filled your tank. As I pulled into a Chevron station, the good old Texan looked over my shiny new Bimmer and proclaimed, "This is what I like to call a whispering bomb."
And so the "whispering bombs" slid past us and disappeared in front of their white vortex. Left to silence, we followed their tracks, and I thought it probable that snowmobiles might coexist with human powered travel.
At last, with only a mile left on our four mile walk, the whispering sleds returned. By the time we reached the trailhead, they were packed up and gone.
To get to the Jane Addams Trailhead, follow US Route 20 a short mile west of the Illinois Route 26 Exit to Freeport. Turn south on Fairview Road. Go to the "tee" and turn right over the hill. The parking lot is on your right.
As Sue Robinson and I stepped from my Chevy Blazer, Commodore Dennis (Robinson) was digitally recording the event for posterity. This was our first trail walk of the year—a four mile round trip to Scioto Mills.
The Jane Addams Trail stretches north from the trailhead through the bucolic burgs of Scioto Mills, Red Oak, Orangeville, Oneco, and Clarno on its way to Monroe, Wisconsin. We’ve walked and biked nearly every foot of it, save the newest section between Clarno and Monroe.
Occasionally we ride our bikes on the trail, but it is more satisfying as a walking path. The pace is slower and sensations stronger when draped in fall color and the bloomin bluebells in early spring.
The local snowmobile club helped construct and maintain this trail, and they've no doubt been itching to have fresh snow to ride on.
We weren’t long down the trail, before hearing a muffled rasp of a sled gliding up from behind. We scurried to the side of the trail to make way for three machines which passed us in short order. Once clear, they opened their throttles and sped away.
These motorini con skis are very powerful and fast. Their silent menacing exhaust note caused me to conjure up a suitable moniker from the past.
While in the Army at Fort Bliss, Texas, I reluctantly traded in my red "67" Alfa Duetto Spider for a 1971 BMW 1600 Sedan. Our beloved Alfa was ill suited to double dating, and we couldn't afford the more powerful and legendary 2002.
In those days, when you gassed up, an attendant filled your tank. As I pulled into a Chevron station, the good old Texan looked over my shiny new Bimmer and proclaimed, "This is what I like to call a whispering bomb."
And so the "whispering bombs" slid past us and disappeared in front of their white vortex. Left to silence, we followed their tracks, and I thought it probable that snowmobiles might coexist with human powered travel.
At last, with only a mile left on our four mile walk, the whispering sleds returned. By the time we reached the trailhead, they were packed up and gone.
To get to the Jane Addams Trailhead, follow US Route 20 a short mile west of the Illinois Route 26 Exit to Freeport. Turn south on Fairview Road. Go to the "tee" and turn right over the hill. The parking lot is on your right.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Eating and the Art of Cycle Aerodynamics
Winter has dumped several inches of snow and superchilled the Upper Left Hand Corner of Illinois. So there's nothing whatsoever to do but eat.
Now we can work on fattening up to increase our downhill speed. And since we're becoming more well rounded, we should be more aerodynamic as well.
This is a good time to put in a word for Mort & Saint's bar & grill at 114 S. Chicago Avenue in Freeport just next door to our Freeport Bicycle Company. Today's special was goulash replete with three pieces of grilled garlic bread. We washed it down with a couple mugs of diet cola (no endorsements for soft drink companies in this blog), and were out the door for under five bucks.
Mort's has the best Italian beef this side of Chicagoland, and their Italian meatball sandwich is terrific. The meatballs are larger than golf balls, and you get two sleeves on a great French role for -- you got it -- under five bucks!
While we were smacking at the Hungarian Goul, Duke Herrling remarked that Tyger Johnson was singing and playing his many instruments at 9 East Coffee on Stephenson Street this morning. Tyger is our renowned cyclocross champion who retired years ago to a Lightning F40 recumbent.
http://www.lightningbikes.com/f40.htm
Tyger is our local Lightning dealer and has sold most of the Lightning recumbents ridden in this area. Thanks to Tyger, the Upper Left Hand Corner may have more recumbent bikes per capita than any place in the world.
Nevertheless, the next time we find Tyger playing at 9 East Coffee, we're gonna get him some dark glasses and a monkey with a tin cup. With his talent, he should be able to make enough money to properly refit the shell on his F40.
Now, back to Jill's Goulash at Mort & Saint's. It was so deliciously filling that afterwards I felt obliged to stop in next door and talk bike riding with Ron Mattson at Freeport Bicycle. This was so therapeutic after a big lunch.
Now we can work on fattening up to increase our downhill speed. And since we're becoming more well rounded, we should be more aerodynamic as well.
This is a good time to put in a word for Mort & Saint's bar & grill at 114 S. Chicago Avenue in Freeport just next door to our Freeport Bicycle Company. Today's special was goulash replete with three pieces of grilled garlic bread. We washed it down with a couple mugs of diet cola (no endorsements for soft drink companies in this blog), and were out the door for under five bucks.
Mort's has the best Italian beef this side of Chicagoland, and their Italian meatball sandwich is terrific. The meatballs are larger than golf balls, and you get two sleeves on a great French role for -- you got it -- under five bucks!
While we were smacking at the Hungarian Goul, Duke Herrling remarked that Tyger Johnson was singing and playing his many instruments at 9 East Coffee on Stephenson Street this morning. Tyger is our renowned cyclocross champion who retired years ago to a Lightning F40 recumbent.
http://www.lightningbikes.com/f40.htm
Tyger is our local Lightning dealer and has sold most of the Lightning recumbents ridden in this area. Thanks to Tyger, the Upper Left Hand Corner may have more recumbent bikes per capita than any place in the world.
Nevertheless, the next time we find Tyger playing at 9 East Coffee, we're gonna get him some dark glasses and a monkey with a tin cup. With his talent, he should be able to make enough money to properly refit the shell on his F40.
Now, back to Jill's Goulash at Mort & Saint's. It was so deliciously filling that afterwards I felt obliged to stop in next door and talk bike riding with Ron Mattson at Freeport Bicycle. This was so therapeutic after a big lunch.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Ridin in Winter
This is the second winter season where our roads have been clear, and the invitation to ride our bikes has been with us nearly every day. And we're in Northwest Illinois-- the "Upper Left-hand Corner"-- in what is typically a frosty landscape in winter.
Herr Carl Beichel and I have logged over 130 miles since the first of January 2007. Our daily rides begin at 3:00 in the afternoon, and we roll in just as the light begins to fade. But we're on the other side of the winter solstice now, and each day the light will linger longer. Now, if only the snow holds back, we'll exceed our 200 miles during January of 2006.
On Saturday mornings, we head out from the corner of Harlem Center and Lily Creek Roads at 8:30 and ride north into the hills above Freeport. We punctuate each Saturday ride with a double espresso e dolce at the 9 East Coffee shop in downtown Freeport.
On Sunday mornings, we ride south from Highland Community College at 9:00. Our usual destination is Jerry's Cafe in Shannon where we warm up with waffles, eggs & sausage. The past few Sundays have been frosty, and our faces are in the wind as we ride to breakfast. But on the return trips, we catch the wind and sail with the sun at our backs and the sparkle in the trees.
Yup, winter riding is very special, and it sets the tone for what is to come in the cycling season.
This is a simple beginning to our bicycle blog in the Upper Left-hand Corner of Illinois. We'll add routes and destinations in Northwest Illlinois as we progress-- perhaps a photo or two-- as we figure this blog thing out.
So join us. Share your joy of riding. Every day on a bike is a good day.
Herr Carl Beichel and I have logged over 130 miles since the first of January 2007. Our daily rides begin at 3:00 in the afternoon, and we roll in just as the light begins to fade. But we're on the other side of the winter solstice now, and each day the light will linger longer. Now, if only the snow holds back, we'll exceed our 200 miles during January of 2006.
On Saturday mornings, we head out from the corner of Harlem Center and Lily Creek Roads at 8:30 and ride north into the hills above Freeport. We punctuate each Saturday ride with a double espresso e dolce at the 9 East Coffee shop in downtown Freeport.
On Sunday mornings, we ride south from Highland Community College at 9:00. Our usual destination is Jerry's Cafe in Shannon where we warm up with waffles, eggs & sausage. The past few Sundays have been frosty, and our faces are in the wind as we ride to breakfast. But on the return trips, we catch the wind and sail with the sun at our backs and the sparkle in the trees.
Yup, winter riding is very special, and it sets the tone for what is to come in the cycling season.
This is a simple beginning to our bicycle blog in the Upper Left-hand Corner of Illinois. We'll add routes and destinations in Northwest Illlinois as we progress-- perhaps a photo or two-- as we figure this blog thing out.
So join us. Share your joy of riding. Every day on a bike is a good day.
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