Hard Lessons

Last week, we received word that Richard Nicodemus was stuck and killed by a truck on a rural road east of Orangeville.

After his retirement from Kelly-Springfield tire company, Richard was smitten by the bicycle bug and became the aerodynamic recumbent protege of Tyger Johnson.

Richard was a soft spoken rider and always in a delightful place while he rode.

It is hard enough when fellow riders crash and are seriously injured as was Chuck Garrett last summer. Loose gravel on pavement at the bottom of a hill was Chuck’s demise.

At Richard's visitation, Chuck told me that while his wife, Janis, was in for knee surgery, Richard visited with Chuck as he was recovering in the room across the hall. That was Richard exactly.

Fellow rider Paul Heitz was sideswiped on Pearl City Road a few years ago, gravely hurt and very nearly dispatch from this earth. Bones were broken and a lung punctured. Paul was laid up in hospital but today is back on the road as active as ever.

Adam Schultz was returning home on Park Boulevard when a careless person blew the stop sign at Park and Empire and threw him up on her windshield. She had no insurance and little remorse. I guess Adam made her late for an elective college class. Adam’s surgical repairs are ongoing.

Peter Flynn was struck from behind in broad daylight by an elderly lady. She was so distraught that she nearly backed over him. Later, Eric Walser said the same lady brushed him, whereupon he chased her down and gave her a severe tongue lashing.

These close encounters are terribly unsettling but death is too final, and the only person who can say what really happened is the driver of the truck which killed Richard. He is Peggy’s neighbor and is taking it quite hard and will most likely live in a dark place for the rest of his days.

Riding bicycles can pose hard lessons. It is easy to lose our focus for self preservation as we drift into riders’ rhapsody. So our joy of riding begs a certain amount of circumspection.

I write this in the company of jazz pianist, Bill Evans, playing his “Re: Person I Knew.” It is thoughtfully haunting-- typical of Bill’s compositions.


In and Out of the Canyon

Packer fans are chomping their brats after soundly biting the Falcons beaks last night. And while the Bears were ripping out the talons of the Seahawks, I was pointing my cyclocross deep into the cold wild country where, as Yoda Yonda would say, “the owls screw the chickens.”

I’ve ridden through but never out of Apple River Canyon State Park. This seemed like an excellent place from which to explore new roads between Stockton and Apple River.

It was 16 degrees as I parked the Blazer in the lot. I lifted the Las Cruces out the back and began adding layers over my Craft tee and merino V-neck-- a hooded jersey followed by a fleece lined nylon vest, and finally my Patagonia lined ripstop hunters-hold-yer-fire orange shell.

Then, toe warmers to socks and booties on tap; puffy down gloves; and warm woolen cap. These are a few of my favorite things.

I rode east out of Apple River Canyon Park to Fiedler and turned south. After about a block, as Fiedler turns right, I continued straight ahead on Kupersmith Road. Kupersmith is paved down into the valley to the intersection at Rush Town Road.

“Let dogs delight to bark but not bite for God hath made them so.” A pair of honey furry golden retrievers trotted along side on my approach to Rush Town.

At the stop sign just across the little bridge, it was straight south up a very abrupt incline. After tackling that, I rode flat and curled back east to Rush Town Road along Kupersmith and Chelsea Roads. Several creeks run together chiseling solitary hollows around this loop.

Back at the intersection of Rush Town and Kupersmith Roads, we might have ridden straight ahead on Rush Town over to Canyon Park Road. Instead back turned north on Kupersmith up the hill past our fluffy tail waggers to Fiedler Road. From there we reached over to Canyon Park Road.

Circling back into the Park, we crossed the bridge, and turned left. My GPS measured 17% on the climb out of the canyon. On top, Canyon Park Road eases its way west to Broadway Road.

For years, I have passed by the south end of Broadway Road. On a whim, I drove it in the Blazer the Friday before and was delighted at my discovery. Broadway runs from the village of Apple River southwest and terminates at Townsend Road just east of the Boy Scout Camp.

After a couple easy rollers, the road dips into a quiet coulee and rises steeply out the other side around a corner near the Bonjour Farm. I was impressed with the grip of my Schwalbe tires and was pleased I had listened to Bill Leibman’s lesson on tire rotation.

In the next quarter mile the coulee converges with Apple River Canyon, and you look down on either side through tight naked woods expecting a buck or buckskin covered Boy Scout. In fact, I was close a place where people practice orienteering to build teamwork and leadership skills, and perhaps mix it up with the Scouts. It was tough terrain on a bicycle but I preferred riding on frosty gravel to trudging through the thick forest.

I squeezed the brakes down the hill to Townsend Road and approached my turnaround at the entrance to the Scout Camp. After slowing for a lady in a dirty cream Chrysler I came about. Alas, I cut handlebars too short. The snow clogged rear tire met the cold hard pavement, and, BANG, down I went. All the mummified layers failed to cushion my left shoulder from the fall. I prayed for my rotator cuff as I climbed back up Broadway and made my way back to the Park.

Maybe I should take up snowboarding -- eh, maybe not.