Saturday, May 17, 2008

Vashon_Island doesn't see 90 degrees very often, especially not in May.

Hell...who am I kidding? The south Puget Sound rarely sees 90 degrees...period.

My brother and his wife drove down from up north and we hopped the ferry to ride Vashon. As the most experienced of the group, I should have taken it upon myself to carry a map of the island so I could ensure a good ride. But I'm lazy and I have a habit of getting lost on my bike. My unfortunate family members were just along for the ride.


We chose the less evil of the two climbs coming off the ferry dock. My mind went into the usual autopilot of trying to keep a comfortable cadence. I had attempted to swap out a smaller chainring the night before, but my 40T was the wrong bolt pattern. But, it was free so I can't really bitch. Up...up...and up I went...until my Phonak cap was filled with sweat.

Pull over. Remove cap. Oh yeah, there's other people behind me. Suffering up the climb. Newbies and family. One in the same. They're not THAT far behind. They'll live. Must push on...

As my lost family members crested their first big climb, I assured them that the worst was over.

Boy was I wrong....

We rode on, taking in the scenery and sweating in the rare Pac NW heat. The three of us were making good time. I thought "ride into town, get lunch, relax, ride back."

Again....I should've brought a map.

After stopping at a crossroad, we decided to go right.

Oh cool...look at the scenery...oh neat...oh shit...we're on another island...WTF??

It's cool. There's an entire group of a dozen or so riders behind us. They'll give us directions if we ask.

"Hey Mister, can you tell us how to get into town?" have no clue where you're going either.


Oh hey, there's a fire station. Let's get directions.

Go back the way we came?


Ride, ride, ride, ride...take a right here. Left at the stop sign. Wall of a climb. No momentum. Fixed gear. Walk. No problem. Short hill.


Longish hill. Keep walking. Crest hill.

Ride, ride, ride.

Town coming into view.


Eat BLT. Relax.

Back on the bike. Fueled up ready to rip. Let's go!

Hey, we've been here before! Cool. Sweet views.

Too hot...want to die....

We eventually made it back to the ferry dock with. I think the famdamn had successfully completed the hardest ride they had ever done. I had another (hard) 30 miles under my fixed belt, and the Brooks is starting to take shape.

Next time, I'll bring a map so I don't have to look like a bitch as my sister in law out climbs me even though she has 27 times as many I'm fat.

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