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.
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