Kings Valley 600k

I got an early start driving down to Newberg, OR.  I left my house in Seattle at 12:45 in the afternoon.  This was a full two hours before I had left, a few weeks earlier (also on a Friday), to go down for an OR brevet.  This earlier departure paid off.  Traffic was only horrendous through Fife.  Later, when I crossed the Columbia on I-205, it was stop-n-go for about nine miles, but by then it was the heart of rush hour.

Ron H had contacted me a few days earlier.  He'd found a room at the Notel (not far from the start/overnight/finish of the 600k).  After I'd been there for a few hours, I figured Ron (who as it turned out wasn't able to leave Seattle until after work) had had a change of heart/plans.  Another reason I drove alone was because I had a sore knee and it was an unknown parameter going into this ride.  I figured if I DNFed VERY early (as Ron H would suggest!), it wouldn't be necessary to wait around until 3:00 a.m. Monday (which was when Ron planned to drive back).

Eventually I hit the sack.  About 1:00 a.m. I found myself awake, so decided to check e-mail.  While sitting at the computer, who should arrive but Mr. Brevet himself (Ron).  He hadn't been able to leave work until 7:00 p.m. (though that had meant he dodged a LOT of traffic).

We woke to sun (as forecast).  We got to the start early enough to do some schmoozing.  Mike Bingle was there (doing the 200k, which shared some of the 600k course).  He mentioned having done the OR spring 200k (his 22nd consecutive, going all of the way back to the early Marvin Rambo RBA days).

The veteran Del Scharffenberg was also there (also doing the 200k).  Why were all of these heavy hitters doing the 200k?  What did THEY know?

And then we were off.  It was flat, or gently rolling, for a while.  Then eventually we were working our way into the Coast Range.  At one point a cue said 3 miles to the summit.  Once there, the route descended.  But NO, we hadn't actually crossed the Coast Range yet, so we had to go back up.  Near the actual summit, the heat was oven-like.  This was due to exposure to the sun and shelter from the wind.  Sigh.  Sweat poured into my eyes (and burned!).

On the way down there was a control.  This would be the last time I'd see other riders until the next day.

Nearing the coast, the wind picked up, mercifully giving a break from the heat.  We hit US 101 at Lincoln City and headed north.  But then, for reasons NOT known to me, we ended up having to climb once again, back up into some big hills.  In terms of distance, this was totally unnecessary.  So, the climbing was definitely gratuitous.  We went all of the way up to the elevation we would later cross the coast mountains at on our return!  This is the sort of thing I dislike about randonneuring.

I was back down to the coast for sunset (and an info control).  Then I followed the Little Washtucna Road to climb back over the coast range.

Eventually I was out of the mountains and came to the Casino at Grande Ronde.  There is a minimart/gas station there, so I had a snack and continued. 

My pedaling went fairly smoothly during the night.  To my surprise, I NEVER became drowsy!  

I made it back to the room, in Newberg, at about 4:30.  It was fairly light out.  I believed the control closed at 5:20.  Imagine my delight when I looked at the cue sheet and it said 6:20!!!!  So I got about an hour of sleep.  I had some breakfast and then I told Ron (who was almost, but not quite, ready) that I needed to hit the road and that he would catch me shortly.

When he caught me, later, en route to St. Paul and Salem, he said a brief word ... and then passed me like I was standing still.

I had a nightmare of a time getting out of Salem.  I did about six extra miles (I think) and lots of unnecessary climbing.  Then I was back on route, following the Willamette River.  Looking at the cue sheet, NOW, I see a horrendous error!!!!!  Sigh.  Another thing to dislike about randonneuring.  And I think the Garmin could have been more helpful but was NOT.

I somehow managed to arrive at the first control, Independence, just before cut-off.  I finally saw a few other riders, leaving.

From there the course took us to a very short ferry crossing of the Willamette River.  The temperature was already scorching so another rider (who would leapfrog me this day) and I both were pleased they sold ice cream bars on the vessel.  This was one of the few things I could get myself to eat in this heat.

From the far side I set out, for what would be a mostly flat stretch, to the nadir of our loop, Waterloo.  I thanked God that my last name was NOT Bonaparte.  The other rider, whom I had not seen since leaving the ferry, somehow arrived at the control AFTER me.

Waterloo was a fairly nondescript place.  It did have a nice park.  Not much retail was apparent.  The store which was the control did have ice cream sandwiches and cold Gatorade.  No public restrooms.  That always sort of offends me.  But the young woman behind the counter was quite pleasant and even said something about enjoying all of us cyclists stopping in.

Now we headed north from Waterloo, into the headwinds.  They seemed to roar at times, probably something that only happens on very hot days (like today!).

And now it was time for my second nightmare of the day.  Nearing Scio (the last control before the finish), there was a 7.9 mile section on Richardson Gap Road.  To give myself psychological assurance that eventually I would actually arrive at my turn, I zoomed out, on the Garmin, until I could see the next road.  And then I pedalled, and pedalled, but the little dot that represented ME did not seem to move.  For a while I thought it was because I had zoomed out so far.  Eventually I realized the device had frozen.  I rebooted and the course would not come up!

Eventually the road I was on started to bend in the correct direction (which didn't feel particularly good because it had become incredibly steep).  I walked the bike.  At least there was shade.  Eventually I came  upon Ridge Drive.  Yeah, you don't get to a road with a name like that without a lot of climbing.  Or, in my case, a lot of unnecessary climbing.  I headed the correct direction.  Then I saw a young woman getting out of a car and I asked her for directions to Scio.  I was indeed headed in the correct direction.  And, I had indeed done some unnecessary climbing.

After Scio the cue sheet said Stayton would be the last place to get provisions.  You guessed it: time for another ice cream sandwich and a large bottle of cold Gatorade.

And now it was the final push.  Looking at the clock, hors delai looked possible.  Finishing on time also looked possible.  Eventually the route crossed I-5.  The sun had finally dipped below the horizon.  I changed to clear lenses.  It was too hot to put the official SIR reflective vest on.

The route touched Champoeg State Park, then got on SR-219 to cross the Willamette River.  After crossing what seemed like a never ending series of bridges, there was a sign that said "Welcome to Newberg" but WHERE were the bright lights!?  The course worked its way back to the start via a few backstreets.  And then I scrambled to find a place that was open so I could get a receipt.  I found a Circle K: 22:43!  Heck, I should have still been out on the course.

I sat on the curb, nursing my bottle of cold water (purchased to get the receipt) and reflected on the ride.  During the ride, perhaps even before, I decided this would be long enough for me, that I didn't want to go to PBP and torture myself over an even longer distance.

Now it is two days later, and even though my body still feels bruised and battered, I'm again wrestling with doing the final qualifier (I still need a 400k).  Such a stress free existence we lead!