Charles Dickens might have said about the RM 1,200,
It was the best of rides, it was the worst of rides.
Actually, it was a great ride, but necessity dictated
some long, miserable stretches on unfriendly roads.
Jeff and I shared a room in Kamloops. I had booked the
cheapest room I could find for myself and changed it
to a double. On paper it looked good, only about 13 km
from the start/finish, but in reality it was on top of
a hill that started at the river level, which is where
the start/finish was. So getting to the start was a 13
km coast (for me - Jeff had to work on his fixed
gear!) and, of course, a 13 km climb from the finish.
The room was nice, though, and we got lots of rest
before the start.
I started at 2200 Wednesday with the 90 hour group,
as usual, on the sound theory that the sooner I start
the sooner I can finish. The sky in the east started
to brighten around 0400 and by 0430 it was pretty
light. We had a head wind the first day, but it wasn’t
particularly hot. My only quibble about the ride on
the first day was the fact that food was limited at
the first controls, and Cokes were either limited or
not available at all. Stores are scarce up there, so
if you like to rehydrate with sodas you’re out of
luck. Incidentally, the Mountain Dew formula sold in
Canada is different and does not contain caffeine!
Sometime in the first afternoon we entered a huge
national forest, where many of us saw bears, deer, and
mountain goats and Kevin was nearly speared by an elk.
I rode into Beauty Creek, km 532 around 2300 and
decided to sleep there, as the next leg was over 90
miles. It was also reported to be the prettiest part
of the ride and I didn’t want to miss it in the dark.
I slept until 0415, had a big breakfast, and was just
leaving when I met Jeff and Kevin coming in. They
looked so good that knowing they were 6 hours ahead of
me just standing there made me feel like a slacker!
Then it was climbing. The route goes through the
Columbia Ice Fields, where I saw my first glacier.
Descending was cold in the early hours. I was warm
enough with my wool summer jersey, wool undershirt,
and wind shell, but tights or knee warmers would have
been nice. When you don’t use drop bags, you have to
weigh the severity and duration of suffering against
the penalty of carrying lots of stuff. I saw guys in
full winter gear, including booties.
Here I mention an indelicate fact of my ride. I had
stomach problems beginning on the first day and
continuing throughout the ride that necessitated
numerous dashes into the brush. As portions of the
route offered little opportunity for privacy, I fear
that some tourists looking for bear actually saw bare.
Fortunately the problems didn’t affect my ability to
eat and absorb food, so the only effect was impeding
time and inflicting indignity. It is also disturbingly
unhygienic.
As nice as the first half of the second day was, the
second half was difficult. We were on the Trans Canada
Highway (Hwy 1), which is at its best a busy, high
speed road full of large commercial trucks, cars, and
Greyhound-size RVs pulling swaying SUVs or boat
trailers and piloted by geezers in a hurry. At its
worst it is all of that plus construction that robs
cyclists of even a small shoulder to ride on.
I got to the Golden control, km 812, well before
dark. I decided to go on, even though the next leg was
a long one with a lot of climbing. Indeed, it was
difficult in the dark, as the truck traffic didn’t
diminish and the shoulder was unreliable, running out
without warning in the dark. There were tunnels on
this stretch, which were actually structures built to
keep falling rocks off the road, rather than being
holes through mountains. Still, it was scary to me to
be grinding up hill through a tunnel and hearing a
monster truck coming up from behind. All’s well that
ends well though, and I made it to the top of the pass
where there was a rare store open. Then it was an
interminable descent to the next control. I quickly
grew tired of it but thought of Jeff, for whom boredom
would not be the major problem on this stretch!
At the Revelstoke control I was the 5th rider
through. Jim Solanick was there with the lady who
crashed on the first day, Melanie. While she had
facial injuries, she didn’t seem to have any
structural damage. Jim gave up his ride to assist her
after she hit a stone and did a face plant into the
pavement. Kevin was riding with them at the time and
said it looked like it could have been very bad. I’ll
leave it to him to describe it all. Jim dug into his
pill bag to give me an assist for my aching knees, and
off I went again for the last day of riding.
Still on Hwy 1, still with traffic and construction.
I got to the Enderby control just after noon, and the
temperature had gone into the mid to high 90's.
Enderby is a small control made necessary to confirm a
tail tacked onto the ride to pick up a few kilometers,
but it was a welcomed stop. The next leg was only 22
km on lightly traveled roads, but it turned out to be
a really tough grind up a hill in ungodly heat, with
no shade anywhere. After that I was ready for a cool
control, but it turned out to be poorly marked and it
took me about 20 minutes to find it, suffering the
irony of being directed first to a swimming pool and
then a hockey game! Even one of the event organizers,
Linda, had just driven there and commented on how hard
it had been for her to find. After that the guy in
charge of the control went out and did some more
marking, but I heard it was still confusing.
Now came the hardest part of the ride for me. It was
112 km, 70 miles, on Hwy 1, in the heat of the day, to
Kamloops. To make it more difficult, I was now
approaching my known limit without sleep - the point
where hallucinations begin. They did. Fortunately I
came across a couple of stores where I could drink
gator aid and pour cold water on my head an body. The
shock helped tame the voices in my head and I was able
to make it through this point. One more unscheduled
stop in scant vegetation next to the road, a few more
scandalized tourists, and I was almost there. About 10
km from the finish I was passed by the next 90 hour
rider behind me. We talked a bit but by then I was
really tired, my Achilles tendons were ravaged, and I
couldn’t hold his pace, so I just slogged through. I
had visions of being like the first marathon runner -
just handing over my control card and dying! I didn’t,
of course, but I never could have ridden the hill back
to the motel. Fortunately for me an angel, in the form
of Marlene Ohlwiler, Scott’s wife, gave me a lift in
their van and it was all over but sleeping and eating.
Marlene, by the way, is a real champ in my book, and
not just because she helped me when I needed it. I
heard that Scott had difficulties on the last leg, as
most of us did, and called her. She refused to come
get him, knowing that ultimately he’d regret it. She
even refused come out just for support, knowing how
tempting it would be for him to get in the van, So,
Scott spent some time in a motel he came across and,
thanks to his wife’s understanding of him and this
sport, finished with a great time.
It was a good ride, with some spectacular scenery
and good climbing. The volunteers at the controls were
great and made the ride much more enjoyable. On the
other hand, there were parts that were not fun because
of the roads and traffic. Given the few roads out
there, though, that can’t be helped and is just a
price to pay. I no longer do these rides with my
finishing time foremost in my mind, but I was happy
with a sub 70 hour effort. Certainly not spectacular,
but good enough for an old guy on a touring bike.