Cleaning out the garage has to be among my most un-favorite tasks to think about doing, but it's actually not that bad once I get started. It helps to have the cyclist's attitude: extra stuff just slows you down; if you don't need it, don't carry it around. It feels really great to get rid of stuff that's accumulating and get some space back in the garage. Of course, Mrs. C would question why, then, I am holding onto so much cycling stuff. That's different, of course, but she seems to understand that...to a point.
Anyway, I was running across some things I've kept from some memorable rides. I picked up (and kept, of course) the riding bibs we were given for the Providence Bridge Pedal earlier this year. It was the only "organized" ride I did in 2008, and it was pretty unique. My son and I rode with "Mocha Boy," a friend/colleague of mine. We joined 17,000 people for thirty miles of car-free riding across all the Willamette River bridges in Portland. It's a fairly significant fundraiser event for the Providence Hospital. Pretty trippy to be on the top deck of the Marquam Bridge and actually having time to stop and look at the view. The Fremont Bridge is even bigger when you're riding it on a bike.
I would not recommend this ride if you don't like crowds, or if you are impatient with folks who are novices to the mores of group cycling. Unless you are among the very front edge of the group, you're going to spend the entire ride trying to get around the slow folks in front of you, and thinking of naughty words when people cut you off. So why would you want to ride it? Exactly for the experience of doing it with that many other people. It's a great lesson in community. That, I think, is what bridges are for, right?
Now is the time to start planning some memorable cycling events for the upcoming season. I always enjoy the spontaneity of hopping on the bike with friends, family, or just by myself. But I also like strapping the bikes on the back of the car and going somewhere far away. That takes some planning. Whatever kind of trip or outing I choose, it has to work for our whole family. Not all of us are avid cyclists, so I have to keep that in mind. I need to be thinking about places where cycling is friendly to an eclectic group. Short trips with great scenery for those who want a short time on the saddle, and some rewarding longer rides for those of us who need to go for the mileage.
One of those destination hot-spots has to be the San Juan Islands. I took my sons there in the Summer of 2006, and a larger group of relatives in the summer of 2007. The camping, scenery, activities, and riding opportunities make this spot one of the best cycling destinations in the Pacific Northwest. If you're up for a little bit of adventure, leave the car in Anacortes and carry your gear on the bikes. You can camp on the major islands, or find some amazing Bed & Breakfasts for creature comforts along the way.
The boys and I "roughed it" for 5 days camping and cycling on the islands. The amenities at most campgrounds were generous, and at every turn we were surrounded with amazing beauty. I highly recommend this to cyclists looking for a fun and rewarding destination.
Top 5 Highlights of the trip: 5. An early morning ride through a stand of old-growth cedars and firs up Mt. Constitution...and a heart-pounding descent that requires some nerve and some really great brakes. 4. Riding into Roche Harbor, getting off the bikes for a sea-kayaking excursion. 3. Body noises around the campfire after dad's gourmet Chef Boyardee dinner. My apologies to the camp manager.
2. The hospitality from everybody who lives on Lopez Island.
1. Sharing the time exclusively with my sons, who still talk about this trip as one of their favorites.
Tips:
1. Do some planning. Island-hopping on the ferry system is relatively inexpensive, as are the overnight fees at the campgrounds. The trick is to plan the trip out in advance, reserve the campsites before you go, and do your research on the ferry schedule. 2. Give each island some time. Orcas, San Juan, and Lopez each have their own personality and you'll want to give yourself time to enjoy them. I'd suggest a minimum of 1 1/2 to 2 days each. 3. Ferries attract lots of cars. You will have more fun on the roads if you're not competing with ferry traffic. Bikes unoad off the ferries first, but then the cars come behind you. No harm in letting the cars zoom ahead, so you're not hugging the shoulder for the first few miles. 4. Not all islands are the same. Lopez would be the most accessible to a variety of riders because it's most level and the traffic is pretty bike-friendly. San Juan comes in second, with the caveat that there are more hills and traffic. Orcas is a wonderful island, but it's pretty hilly and the ferry traffic can be unnerving--I recommend some contingency plans for short-distance riders.
I was having trouble getting to Bethlehem this year. My mind has been on other things. The icy weather, the closures and delays, the changes in plans and changes again have taken their toll. This blanket of beautiful, fluffy white snow smothered everybody's plans for travel, shopping, rehearsals, and special events. The airport was jammed for days, highway 84 was closed, and a whole bunch of people have had to do some serious improvising. We had some pretty treacherous conditions on our way up to Seattle and back, and the roads in Portland went from "bad" to "are you kidding me?" I haven't seen the church choir in over two weeks. We had to cancel Christmas Eve services at church because of the icy conditions. It suddenly hit me that this stuff has really kept me distracted from the main point of Christmas. So much so that this almost was the year that I missed Bethlehem.
A beautiful thing occurred at our house. Some of our special friends were able to come over for the evening. Then some more joined in. Everybody brought some kind of food. We gathered with prayer, a meal, some carols and lessons, and lots of laughter. They stayed well into the night, and some great lifetime memories were made. And yes, it was the kind of stuff that lifts you from your own circumstances and transports you to the manger in Bethlehem. We would have had a wonderful service at church, but this was a different kind of wonderful thing that happened. It affirmed for me that the unexpected and unplanned events sometimes yield the most amazing, life-changing things.
Sometimes I have these preconceived ideas of what it must have been like in Bethlehem. It's easy for me to forget that it took place in a last-second makeshift shelter in a run-down little town, during a time of tremendous social upheaval, brought on by an oppressive regime. I was thinking about how everyone had to drop what they were doing and go to the hometown where they were registered. What an amazing disruption that must have been for thousands of people who had to make arduous journeys along rocky trails and roads, wait in long lines with scarce resources, extreme frustration and probably some peril.
I try to imagine that in the midst of all of that, the moment came that changed the world forever. In the midst of a chaotic time, God introduced Himself to the world in a whole new way. Life truly is what happens when we're all busy making other plans.
By the time I got to Bethlehem this year, all of our planned Christmas activities had been changed. That's okay by me. I'm hoping to lengthen my stay in Bethlehem this year and see what else I learn.
My garage door rolled up at 7:30 am, when it was 24 degrees outside with hip-deep snow piled along both sides of the street, and there was Monster, plowing forward up our hill in the deep and crusty snowpack on his mountain bike. Each time his bike broke through the crust above, it meant losing 70% of his forward momentum to the 6" of softer snow underneath. The challenge was to stay upright when this happened. The wide tires with knobby tread at least gave him some help. Somehow, Monster was able to stay on, move forward, and chat with me all at the same time. If I was doing that well at doing all of those things at once, there's no doubt that I'd be gabbing on and on about the snow and my ability to stay riding. Not Monster.
"This isn't particularly fun," he told me without losing a pedal stroke, managing to turn up into my icy driveway at the very moment that he broke the laws of physics by avoiding a slip-out. As if he needed to discourage me from getting on my bike and joining him--no thanks. In typical Monster fashion, he diverted the conversation to the kids, plans for the day, the crazy weather--anything to get the topic off of himself. As we were talking, I was thinking that his snow workout was not a whim, but a chance to test himself physically and mentally in a new way. He can't resist finding new ways to work out hard, and this resort-style snow provided a rare opportunity outside his own front door. Snow at this depth never comes to Clackamas, and while riding in it may not be exactly "fun," it helped answer a need. Hard exercise is his way of dealing with himself, and he finds his contentment in physical challenges of this kind. This, I think, is the quintessential Monster. Work out really hard, find variety, stay in top physical shape, and above all else, talk about something--anything--other than yourself.
Other things that help fill in a picture of Monster: he is a family man in his early forties who manages to stay in marathon-ready shape year round. He lives just across the street from me and we share yard tools. He is kind and quiet, and highly involved father and husband, educator and coach. The two words that best describe Monster would be compassion and appreciation. There is a quiet, deep well of soulfulness that permeates his interactions with people. While physical fitness is a lifetime pursuit for him, he doesn't crave recognition or attention for this part of his life. He would rather hold a deep conversation about faith, social justice, politics, the environment, or a funny story about the kids. It's the same way when we are on rides together.
When we ride together, I know that I'm holding him back. I can't possibly keep a pace that matches the speed that's comfortable for him. Neither one of us cares about that very much--it is what it is. The purpose of these rides is to stay connected. We learn more about each other's stories along the way. After thirty or forty miles, we return home and I fall into a heap on my living room floor. I imagine he heads back out and keeps riding--harder--to get some real exercise. But during the ride, there are some golden moments of sharing. When you're rolling fast, you get to see a lot of gorgeous scenery. Cycling gives you permission to sort of gush about the beauty that surrounds you.
Minutes later as our little CR-V with chains fished its way through the snowy neighborhood streets, we came up beside Monster who was still on his mountain bike, still apparently not having fun while riding hard in the deep snow. The workout went on as planned. I rolled my window down and told him, "real men would be doing that on a road bike." As I rolled the window back up, I'm pretty sure I saw a gleam in his eye.
Addendum: There were other snow cyclists out and about. This helmetcam-donned PDX cyclist's perspective is fun to watch. Things start getting interesting at about 2:15 in the video. Enjoy!
The final leg of our wintry journey home began this morning in Kelso. Southbound I-5 lived up to the hype on the morning news. Chains on, then off, then back on again for good in Vancouver. We slid, rattled, and revved our way through the snow and ice in our little CR-V, and the trip that had begun in Tacoma 24 hours before abruptly ended--just 20 feet from our garage. "The little Honda that could" had finally met its match with the 18+ inches of snow that had piled up in our driveway.
I was so stressed by the driving antics of the other people on the freeway. One spin-out after another told the story of how dangerous the road conditions truly were. We lost count of the tow trucks. I tried to imagine all the things that suddenly changed for passengers inside their SUV-turned-missiles that had careened into snowbanks and medians. We had a near-miss of our own. No other cars, nothing out of the ordinary, but we suddenly found ourselves sliding at an angle down the middle lane of the highway. It probably was just an instant before we had righted ourselves, but it sure seemed like forever. Slow down, Kelly. Your family is relying on you to make good choices.
Home now, we've already ventured back out to forage for "necessities" from Safeway. There's a full pot of coffee (this, I can tell you now, will be a common theme in my blog entries), a warm fire in the fireplace, there are friends over for the kids, Nancy's starting a new book, and I have time to ponder the creation of my blog.
