For the first time in a while, I cannot say that I saw any other
riders I knew on this ride. So it was very much a solo effort,
at least for the first half of the day. A number of people there
had done DVDC the week before, which impressed me considerably.
And, as someone pointed out on the Internet a while back, many
of the riders were definitely into the long-distance 'circuit'
and tales of 'The Grand Tour', "Terrible Two",
etc., of years past could be heard at registration. Of course,
I can't hope to compete for scenery or the (apparent) exhilaration
of the DVDC event in what I write, but here's how it went.
Spared the discomfort of camping in a howling gale (cf. DVDC)
I had a comfortable motel-night-before in Hemet. We (about 230
riders) assembled just before dawn at Hemet's Gibbel Park. Sobering
sounds of classical music could beheard drifting out from loudspeakers
surrounding the registration area. At the official start time
this gave way to the more invigorating tones of ZZ Top's Eliminator.
The format of the course was 'figure-of-eight'. We were started
off at dawn (6am) at 2-min. intervals in groups of 20. I positioned
myself in the first starting group (even though it was supposed
to be for the faster riders) because I wanted to get as much early
time on the road as possible. The route headed out of Hemet, NE,
and through a Recreation Area, on 4 miles of bike-trail. I consorted
briefly with a tandem-crew who commented on my accent (I toyed
with the idea of claiming to have flown over from U.K. especially
for the event) but they pulled ahead on a descent out of the park.
At about the time I reached the first rest stop (26 miles) a lot
of riders caught me. They were not messing and most did not loiter,
but grabbed bananas and continued. For the first and only point
in the day I felt cold at this point.
The next 25 miles or so were pretty flat and unremarkable, except
for some cute hills visible in the near-distance and shrouded
in low cloud. The heavy traffic of the Ramona Xpwy was soon left
behind. I was at the 2nd rest stop in under 3 hours and by now
seemed to be in the middle of the riding-field. Here was the first
opportunity to paste on sun-cream, hopefully waterproof for the
next stretch contained a lot of flooded sections of road. The
route continued to Lake Elsinore; I was taken at regular intervals
by those who started after me. I was getting pretty hungry and
took longer than I should have done at the 3rd rest stop to down
some bread. The only way I can make the dreaded 'PNB' palatable
is to drench it in honey. When you're out on your bike who cares
about 'good tastes' ? More flatlands to the last rest-stop before
lunch, outside a bike shop aptly named 'Cyco-Path'. A bit of backtracking
was required to make it back to Hemet for lunch. That first century
was a 6:47 for me. I am not a serious timekeeper but I think that's
my fastest century to date - but it was so flat (less than 3,000
ft. climbing in total) that it probably should have been faster.
Lunch was more sumptious than the offerings at the often spartan
rest-stops. I took the full hour the organisers assumed for this
stop and braced myself for the second loop, east and north of
Hemet. It would be 108 miles. But I headed out on to the road
again too quickly and should have given time for my meal to digest.
10 miles down the road, prior to beginning the long climb to Idyllwild,
I was sitting down under a tree, equilibriating. There is a tough
psychology about a f-o-8 course: Heading out on to the road again
in a very strung out field of riders now takes some resolve.
Finally the descent begins, a nasty wind has wipped up. Controlling
the bike is an effort. The wind appears to come from all directions
but is most dangerous when straight across. The 4,000ft marker
flashes by and I'm now really eating up the road . Soon the area
around Banning comes into light: The view is incredible, it's
just like descending steeply from an aircraft. It seems like the
drop from the right hand side of the road is vertical. 3,000ft,
going down. Suddenly a vibrating sound from my wheel. My rear
brake cable somehow got caught in there and is now totally frayed.
The wind must have shoved it in there. But it could have been
worse - might have been a spoke gone. Finally 'ground level' is
reached. The wind is just as strong. I turn into a headwind to
limp the last two miles to the rest-stop where the lights are.
At least I wasn't sagged. But I'm beat. There is promise of soup,
but it turns into hot chocolate.
I install my lighting system and prepare to face the night. There
are more than 50 miles to go. I dread the continuing wind and
the darkness. I make the mistake of setting out alone. I blunder
around for 15 miles in near-total darkness unable to see cyclometer
or map (or anything) except by directing my headlight which usually
requires stopping. I see no other cyclists but remarkably make
no wrong-turnings. The road soon becomes a slip-road for a freeway;
somehow this is comforting. Soon civilisation beckons. I can see
red-flashing "vistalites" all around; bikers pigging
out at McDonalds, having given up with the 'official' feeding
station. I remain loyal to the event organisers and grab another
granola bar. I voice my doubt that continuing 40 miles in the
dark like this is anything close to sanity. But it is pointed
out to me that there is no other way I'm going to get back to
Hemet unless by riding my bike. The sag-wagon is full.
I am wiser this time and set off in the company of 3 other cyclists.
We share lighting power to see the way and plunge on into the
darkness. We pass a group assisting with a puncture. There's a
challenge to the morale. Another middle-of-nowhere rest-stop and
suddenly there's 'only' 25 miles to go. We are drenched by an
automatic sprinkler system which comes into action by the table.
The group I was with head off and I join another group. We wind
our way into the State Recreation Area again. I still feel strong
but my light is fading: I realise that I have installed the 10W
rather than the 6W bulb.
I leave the group behind and head down to the last dash along
the Ramona Expressway. There is a lot of traffic and my light
is going dim. I join another group of cyclists and feed off their
lights. I also benefit from their momentum, for whilst I still
have reserves of energy I am feeling sleepy. We are making swift
progress, but the stretch until the turn off to Hemet seems interminable.
Suddenly the cross-street Sanderson and it seems like the end
is in sight. Then, Potter and we regroup to memorise the complicated
twists and turns of the farm roads for the last 5 miles. The road
surface is terrible and my light offers no assistance and I drop
behind the others. But I don't care now - the end is in sight.
We make the last turn on to Kirby and Gibbel Park Start/Finish
is visible. I switch on my light for the last few yards to give
the appearance of being 'legal' and hand in my last time-card.
I am asked if I want to sup on Chilli. It is 22 minutes after
midnight and I can think of nothing I want less! It is over 18
hours since I started the 'Double'. It's 208 miles later and I
have behind me my fastest and (probably) my slowest century both
in 1 day. At least I made it back before the FINAL cut-off - 2am!
I am comforted that I am at least, not the last to finish (as
I was once earlier in the year).
On reflection, the climb over Idyllwild certainly made the event
worth while for what was overall some unimpressingly flat terrain.
This account was the first double-century write-up that I posted
on the Internet; I was inspired by having seen Patrick Goebel's
account of the "Death Valley Double" sent to ww@cycling.org
the week before. So, I thought I would add some tales of the weekend
in Hemet.
My overall comments are that the event was well-organised, but:
Hearing from riders who did Hemet 96, it seems that the quality
food and overall support have increased somewhat relative to last
year.