Totem Poles, Sea Views, and Lord Stanley's Cup

 

The 2024 Van Isle 1200 starting in Saanichton, British Columbia turned out to be a terrific adventure.  The Van Isle 1200 had been on my radar for a few years but the event had not been held since 2014. I had a hard time finding many 1200s that fit my work schedule this year, so this was a perfect time to give the Van Isle a go.

 

As I travelled to Saanichton, I really did not know much about Vancouver Island. I had a general sense that the southern part of the island was well populated, the north was more wild and remote, and the scenery would be impressive. In pre-ride planning, I learned that there were significant stretches of the route without services.

 

Throughout most of my life I have been involved in hockey, either as a player, fan, or official. After falling behind 3-0 in the 2024 Stanley Cup Finals, Edmonton won game 4. This meant that I would be in Canada during the Stanley Cup Finals, a Finals in which a Canadian team was fighting for the Cup. The hockey series was a noticeable backdrop to the ride.

 

After arriving in Saanichton late on Monday night, I spent Tuesday reassembling my bike and doing all the normal pre-ride fussing and fidgeting. As I got my bike together, I discovered that my rear brake was not working. Luckily, there was a great bike shop a couple of miles from the hotel and they were able to bleed the hydraulic line and get me on the road. I did a really nice, scenic shakedown ride on quiet roads and beautiful ocean views. 

Spencer Klaassen joined me on Tuesday night and we settled into the hotel pub to watch Game 5 of the Stanley Cup Finals. Edmonton won again, which kept the locals in a jovial mood and guaranteed that the Finals would continue into the ride.

 

Thursday morning’s 5 am rollout was one of the more relaxed 1200k starts I can remember. Everyone in the field of 18 riders seemed happy with slowly easing into the ride. We headed into Victoria on a main highway, although the early hour meant there was very little traffic on the highway. The organizers designed a route that passed all of Victoria’s main sights, including the harbor, Parliament house, and old town Victoria. After a brief control stop, we left the city on a combination of bike trails and highways, along the south side of the island.

 

By the time we reached Sooke at around 39 miles, the group had spread out. I decided I needed a proper break. My recollection of the pre-ride meeting was that there were limited services after Sooke so I pulled into a McDonald’s for a quick sit-down breakfast. I assumed that I was the last rider on the road at this point so I was surprised to see Spencer at a gas station just after I pulled out of the McDonald’s. He had also picked Sooke for a break. We rode together briefly before the challenge of riding a fixie caught up to him and he dropped back. The section after Sooke turned out to be one of my favorite sections of the ride. The scenery was spectacular. The road passed through a dense forest along the shore with views of Washington’s snow-capped mountains visible across the ocean. 

Following a staffed control with great sandwiches and every other possible snack, we headed inland across the island.  By this point, I had joined Francis Lim from Sydney, Australia and Phil Neff from Seattle. The spectacular scenery continued and we passed through Port Renfrew and crossed the island on a beautiful, lightly travelled road. The road had the definite feeling of western mountains.

 Eventually, the sun and hills started having their effect. We dragged in to Lake Cowichan and were thrilled to find J&V’s Diner, advertising burgers and milkshakes. Apparently, most of the field had the same idea as the diner was bustling with riders. Graham Ross joined our group here. The 4 of us would ride most of the event together.

 

After Lake Cowichan the terrain moderated significantly and the traffic increased. The route included intermittent sections on the Trans Canada Highway, a 4 lane divided highway with a wide paved shoulder, and busy two lane highways with a 2-3 foot wide paved shoulder. A mid-evening stop at Wendy’s was a lifesaver. We returned to the coast just in time to enjoy the fading light of a beautiful sunset over the ocean at Qualicum Beach.

 

We arrived at the overnight in Comox, 242 miles into the ride, just before 1:30 am. At the overnight, the BC Randonneurs volunteers had an impressive spread, a main course of chili with a huge selection of snacks and drinks. I made short work of dinner and opted to rush to bed as quickly as possible.

 

While riding into Comox at the end of day 1, we had passed many miles debating the merits of various start times for day 2. Eventually, we settled on 7:00am. So, at 7:00 am, our group of 4 rolled out. The 35 miles to Campbell River passed easily by. We stopped for a quick photo break just prior to Campbell River and again at the 50^th Parallel monument in Campbell River.

While eating gas station pizza on the outskirts of Campbell River, Thai Nguyen caught up and joined our group. Thai was a strong rider who had run into some bad luck on day 1. He had lost a few hours with a mechanical issue, before powering through and catching us. Heading north the terrain became increasingly mountainous with several long gradual climbs. A highlight of this section was the out and back to the Ocean View Café at Kelsey Bay. The tiny snack and gift shop was built on a wood pier. The pier provided an impressive view of the mountain-lined Inside Passage.

 

After a quick photo op, we rolled back to Sayward. Phil and I left Sayward a couple of minutes behind the rest of our crew, leaving just enough time for a small black bear to walk out on the road in front of us. As he moseyed onto the pavement a few yards ahead of us, I started talking to the bear, suggesting that he wanted to go back in the woods. After listening to me and Phil for a couple minutes, he apparently agreed and retreated into the woods.

As we approached the staffed control at a rest area just south of Woss, BC, Francis and I were discussing how much we were craving a sit-down meal. The staffed control had a large selection of food but nothing that really hit the spot Frances and I were craving. Fortunately, the volunteers told us about a restaurant just off route 3 miles down the road.  Frances and I made a quick decision to move on. Part way there, 2 large elk waked out in front of Frances and slowly crossed the highway.  However, the restaurant provided another collision with the Stanley Cup Finals. We arrived about half way through the second period and it appeared that anyone living within 30 miles of Woss was in the tiny restaurant watching the game. The small staff was clearly not keeping up with orders and it was pretty obvious we were not going to get food here anytime soon. So, we left with the news that Edmonton was leading 3-0 after 2 periods and moved to the gas station next door where we raided the shelves for calories.

 

Our next stop was a small convenience store in Hyde Creek.  Eight or nine riders arrived here at the same time about 15 minutes before the store’s 10:00 pm closing time. The store clerk agreed to stay open while we refueled. While waiting for the others, I struck up a conversation with the clerk by asking if she knew who won the game. She quickly covered her ears and made it clear that I was not to share anything I knew about the game because she was taping it to watch after her shift. She also offered that her little town of 2500 people had 3 players currently playing in the National Hockey League. I later learned the Edmonton won the game 5-1, setting the stage for a game 7 the night following the ride.

 

The remaining 30 miles or so to Port Hardy were fairly uneventful except for a cold, driving rain that soaked us in the final hour to the hotel. I arrived just after midnight weary from the 190 miles, ate as fast as I could, took a hot shower to warm up, and got into bed.

Day 3 started with a short loop through Port Hardy, winding past the harbor, and small downtown. 

The roads were dirty and grimy from the previous night’s rain and my bike was soon coated with fine, sticky sand. The route for Day 3 was basically a reverse of day 2. Going into the day I was dreading some of the long climbs. However, we kept a nice steady pace and the miles and climbs kept ticking away. Back near Woss, the volunteers had set up a staffed control loaded up with much needed food. My general rule is to never try anything new on a 1200k, but I gambled on an egg salad sandwich, followed by a tuna sandwich, Ensure, and lots of other snacks and I left feeling ready to tackle the rest of the day.

 

We arrived back in Campbell River just at dusk. We had debating for quite a while where to stop. Finally, we decided that this ride needed at least one Tim Horton’s stop, so we had a winner. We got to Tim Horton’s about 15 minutes before close, ordered our food, and sat down to eat. Almost immediately, a worker came around and told us they were closing but they would could finish eating. He then turned off all the lights in the store and stood about 5 feet away starting at us as we gulped down our food. Probably could have done without the Tim Horton’s stop.

 

The last 35 miles back to Comox was a struggle for me. I was really uncomfortable on the bike and the 185 mile day with plenty of climbing had me ready for a break. Additionally, some kind of weather front moved through and brought really strong winds. A group formed that consisted of around 8 riders and we all rode in together, arriving back at Comox around 12:40am.

 

The Van Isle has a quirk that changed the entire nature of Day 4. The official route included a ferry crossing just over 4 miles from the finish. The final ferry of the day left at 6:30. In other words, to catch the ferry you would need to be on pace to finish the event in approximately 86 hours (instead of the 90 hour official cutoff). Missing the ferry meant taking an alternative finish and possibly waiting a couple of hours for a shuttle to the finish party. Planning Day 4 to catch the final ferry was a main topic of conversation among the riders. The ferry cutoff also changed the entire mood of Day 4. The fourth day on most 1200s tends to be a rolling celebration. Usually by that point, everyone knows they will finish, large groups form, and the mood is happy. The ferry cutoff kept us focused on the clock and doing calculations all day to make sure we were on pace.

Francis, Phil, and I more or less rode the final day together. Thai only took a short break and basically rode through the night. Graham opted for an early start to try for an earlier ferry.  We did some rando brain calculations and decided on a 6am start, giving us just over 12 hours to make the ferry. We seemed to slog through the day with one eye on the clock and the other counting down the miles. We never really seemed to gain much on the clock. It wasn’t until we reached Crofton about 25 miles before the ferry that we were finally pretty certain we had put enough time in the bank and the pressure eased. The village of Cowichan Bay was a picturesque town set on an ocean inlet. With a few minutes in hand, Phil and I walked out on the pier for some quick sightseeing before tackling the steep climb out of town.

 

With the time pressure off, the handful of miles after Cowichan Bay floated by effortlessly. Phil and I made the decision to stop in Mill Bay, just 3 miles from the ferry, for ice cream with over an hour before the ferry sailed. After a relaxing break, we rolled down to the ferry to rejoin Francis.

 

The half hour ferry trip across the ferry gave me a nice chance to reflect on the whole adventure before the short spin across the peninsula to the finish. On the ferry we had devised a strict plan to expend no energy on the 4 mile ride and we diligently stuck to it. Our finish at 7:29 was met with a cheering crowd of volunteers and other riders. My official was 86 hours and 29 minutes.

 

The day following the ride, I took the bus into downtown Victoria to do some sightseeing. I hobbled around all of the popular waterfront hotspots and had an awesome seafood lunch overlooking the harbor. 

I then went back to the hotel and settled in at the pub to watch Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals. The bar was full of raucous hockey fans hanging on every play and hoping for a return of the Cup to Canada. Unfortunately, Edmonton lost a close game and Florida won the Cup. In the words of a fellow passenger at the airport the next morning, “All of Canada is sad today.”

Overall, the Van Isle 1200 was a grand adventure. The only negative was that the geography of the island necessitated more riding on busy highways than I would have preferred.  The BC Randonneurs provided amazing support and hosted one of the friendliest, most welcoming events I have ridden. The scenery was spectacular. Pretty sure I will be daydreaming about those ocean views for a long time to come.

PBP 2023 - Third Time's a Charm!

I’ve said it many times before to anyone that will listen and I will say it again here- - no matter what you’ve heard or think you remember about PBP, the reality is much better. This definitely held true for me again in 2023.

 

If you want the short version, I had a great ride. The beauty of western France was on full display with hot days and warm overnights. I did put leg warmers on during each of the overnights but nothing like the frigid nights of 2019. For me, the highlight of this ride was the support of the residents along the route. There were countless unofficial food stops of every size and shape. I think I found a good balance of enjoying the ride’s special moments and keeping forward motion. I never really felt that finishing was in doubt. In the final miles of the ride, I made the decision to ease back and finish with a time of 89hours and 4 minutes, qualifying for the Adrian Hands Society. Now, if you want the overdone, long version, keep reading.

 

This was my first time travelling with my new coupled bike. I was a little apprehensive about my skills getting it properly reassembled, especially the reconnection of the hydraulic brake lines. In the end, the brake lines connected pretty smoothly (with an extra set of hands from buddy, Spencer Klaassen). I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I squeezed the brake levers and had working brakes. The only drama in the reassembly process came when I removed the travel skewer from the rear wheel and lifted the wheel to put it on. At that point, the cassette slid off of the hub and hit the pavement with an assortment of rings and springs. Not really sure the order that all of this went back together, I sent a text off to my bike builder, Paul Reardon, in La Crosse. He promptly initiated a video call and patiently walked me through the reassembly. Disaster averted!

 

I started the ride with no clear plan. I was in the first start wave of the 90 hour group. I had a hotel room reserved in Loudeac (mile 270 ), and Saint- Meen- le-Grand (mile 518  ). The hotel plan wasn’t perfect because I anticipated getting to Loudeac late on Monday afternoon, a bit too early for a sleep, and the second leg to Saint Meen was a lengthy 240-ish miles. While some riders prepare detailed spreadsheets outlining when they will be at various points on the route and average speed predictions, I prefer to simply work from a list of controls with their closing times. I then track my progress through the day by comparing my time to the closing time to see how much time I will have to sleep at the end of each leg.

The start in Rambouillet was the usual mass of energy, nerves, and pageantry. Somewhere on a stage in front of the pack, a ringmaster was leading cheers, welcoming riders from around the world, doing some kind of countdown, all with some kind of dance club background music. Early on, I met up with longtime Minnesota Randonneur friend, Craig Aamodt. We ended up riding about 100km together on what was a beautiful evening. This might have been the most perfect evening ride I have ever experienced. The miles flew by effortlessly, the conversation was good, and we were both engrossed in enjoying the evening. 

Craig and I got separated in Mortagne. I had just planned on grabbing a quick sandwich and rolling, but when I walked past the cafeteria, I saw that no one was in line, so I grabbed a full turkey and mashed potato dinner.

The miles continued to roll along easily and I was quickly to Villaines-la-Juhel, roughly 200k into the ride. The control in Villaines has the neat tradition of having elementary kids meet riders at the front of the cafeteria line. The kids then carry your tray through the line and to the eating area in the building next door. For my third straight PBP, I was helped by a friendly young lad. 

Shortly after leaving Villaines, the sun starting sneaking through the foggy morning for a beautiful sunrise. 

The miles to Tinteniac continued to roll by easily. Arriving in Tinteniac, I opted for the rapide food option and grabbed a galette sarcisse and a coke.

 

 

On leaving Tinteniac, I noticed something wasn’t right with my GPS. It had somehow managed to shift to indoor riding mode and the road mode was no longer an option. I stopped quick and tried to recreate some of my preferences but never did get it quite right during the ride. I’m now confident that the malfunction was caused by charging the GPS directly from my dynamo rather than through a battery. Apparently, I am the only randonneur who missed this memo.  

 

As I predicted, I arrived in Loudeac late Monday afternoon. I had a nice dinner at the control. I thought it would be nice to end the day with a bottle of beer as well. However, a room temperature (read HOT) Carlsburg was not a fix for anything. (I’m trying to imagine a situation that a 90 degree malty Carlsburg would help but I’m drawing a blank). I tried choking it down but didn’t get very far before giving up, grabbing my drop bag, and heading to the hotel. I was able to buy a really nice draft beer at the hotel bar to drink while unwinding from the day. I planned to sleep for about 3 ½ hours but was really restless and  got only about half of that. 

When the alarm went off, it was still light out. I grabbed a quick second dinner at a Loudeac restaurant that I have eaten at on both prior PBPs before riding into a beautiful sunset and evening.

 

The leg between Loudeac and Carhaix featured a couple of fun interactions with local kids. One of the truly fun and unique things about PBP that are that numbers of people and kids standing along the side of the roads. Many of the children are lined up along the edges of the road looking for high fives from riders. I like to stop and hand out pins I had made up. At one such stop, I encountered 3 young kids. 2 of them spoke pretty good English. The youngest one did not know any English at all. After giving them each a pin, I motioned that I wanted to take a picture with them. On seeing this, the youngest one, who had been very quiet to this point, got a big smile and started yelling “selfie, selfie, selfie.”  Apparently, some concepts transcend language. The other notable experience happened a couple hours later. It was getting late and my mind was getting a bit muddled, so instead of greeting this elementary-aged kid with “Bonjour,”  I said “Hola”. As I reached out to hand her a pin, a much younger girl who had been watching came running over yelling “Hola, hola, hola” to get her pin. I rolled away from both of these interactions laughing.

 

The long, dark climb out Carhaix to the highest point on the course seemed to go on forever-as did the cold, foggy decent to Sizun. In both of my prior PBPs, I’ve hit Sizun just after sunrise and hit the local bakery from an apple pastry. The bakery wasn’t open yet this year, but the bar next door was still open and had a plate of the apple pastries. Two quick pastries and off towards Brest.

 

Arriving in Brest, we passed a patisserie where I had eaten lunch in 2019. The patisserie was just opening for the day so I decided to stop and eat before reaching the control. The lady working didn’t speak any English but we were able to have a bumbled conversation of points and smiles and I eventually ended up with a decent chicken and egg sandwich and a pastry. On my way out, she noticed that I had forgotten to fill my water bottle so she stopped me and gave me a free bottle from the display case.

 

At the control in Brest, I met up with Craig Aamodt and Andy Williams. We decided to leave together. After the required photo stop on the bridge leaving Brest, we ventured into the revised portion of the route. This year’s route reportedly included lots more climbing than the 2019 version. Lots of it seemed to be on this section. It seemed like an unending string of climbs and the temperatures rose steadily all day. Craig clearly was not feeling well and eventually withdrew with heat-related illness but Andy and I rode together for the rest of the day. We were also joined periodically by Misha Heller and Charlie Martin for some fun conversation. The highlight of the day was the new stop at Pleyben, next to a beautiful ancient church. To mix things up, I decided that I Heineken would be better for my stomach than another sugary pop. I added a galette saucisse to top off a nice lunch.

 

Andy and I got separated on the run into Saint-Meen-le-Grand. Andy was convinced I was behind him and it took a series of phone calls and text messages before we were able to meet up near the square in front of Saint Meen’s distinctive city hall. The hotel was on route and was set up for PBP support. I had pre-ordered a couple of dinners and we were able to eat quick supper before crashing for a 3 hour sleep.

 

We left around 4:30 am, well before the sun came up and rode the 25-30 miles to Tintaniac for breakfast. After grabbing my meal, I noticed the party train sitting at a table. They graciously let me join them and I enjoyed being part of their banter. Stops with them became a feature of the rest of the ride. I wasn’t quite fast enough to ride with them, but I took slightly shorter breaks and was able to join them at several controls and aid stations throughout the day.

 

I never really felt strong at any point on Wednesday. I made reasonable progress and kept moving but most of the day felt like a struggle. I had a good lunch with Bill Russell, Misha Heller, and Charlie Martin in Fougeres and a fun stop in Ambrieres-les-Vallees. At Ambrieres-les-Vallees, the route crosses a river on a bridge with 90 degree corners on each bank. On the Paris side of the river, is a café. The spot is so beautiful that I have stopped there on each PBP (some years in both directions)

 This year, they had a tent serving food outside and an ice cream stand. I stopped for a sandwich and soup but I found the soup inedible. As I was preparing to leave, I walked out to the bridge planning to take a photo of the next rider that crossed. I ended up taking a picture of Cap’n Ende and Charley Martin, without planning it (or actually realizing it until I looked up after taking the photo). 

Their group was diving into the ice cream so I made the wise decision to delay my departure and have a big bowl of caramel flavored ice cream. The rest of the afternoon was an eastward slog through a progression of spontaneous aid stops, including a stop at Paul Rogue’s in Tanniere for crepes.  Shortly after Tanniere, the town of LeRibay is perched on top of a short steep climb and they were hosting a major festival/party/aid stop. As I approached, I was feeling sun-baked, so I pulled in for a quick break. Not too much later, the party train rolled in. I noticed that all of the voluteers were wearing bright orange t-shirts with a Le Ribay. I thought that one of the shirts would make a unique PBP souvenir and could be the basis for a joke to help boost my sagging mood. So, I found a table selling the shirts, bought one, and slung it over my shoulder. I then walked over to where the party train was sitting, and announced, “screw this, I’m done. I’m going to stay here and cook sausages all day”. It was a fairly lame joke, but at this point of the ride it was enough to get me to laugh at myself and change my mood. I later learned that at lease one member of the gang thought I was DNF’ing there. So maybe I looked at bad as I felt.

 

 

That evening approaching Mortagne was probably the most difficult part of the ride for me. There was a series of long, tough climbs, and I was struggling to make good progress. About 10km before the Mortagne control, I decided to pull off at a roadside community support stand. When I wheeled in, I was met by a teenage girl whose first question was “English, French, Spanish?” When I replied English, she turned and yelled for the English-speaking helper who then approached and stuck with me throughout my stay. Apparently, they had a “rider liaison” available in each of several languages. He asked me a series of questions to prompt aid. Did I need water?, would I like cake?, do I need coffee?, would you like a plum? After we got through those basics, he asked me to sign a big board they had signed by riders from all over the world. When I confessed that I was down to my last pin and that I wanted him to decide who in his crew should get it, he pulled out a board of pins and said they preferred to put the pins on a board to display.

 

My plan had to been to sleep for about 30 minutes in Mortagne before pressing on to Dreux. However, the weather forecast was calling for rain in 4 or 5 hours, so after eating, I decided to press on to Dreux. Leaving Mortagne, the route has 2 or 3 climbs that seemed to go on forever. Someday, I would like to ride this section in daylight. On each of my 3 PBPs, I have suspected that the organizers have snuck in an excursion into the Alps without telling anyone. The reward for surviving these climbs is the plains  leading to Dreux.  The stark darkness of the night was interrupted by an all night party at the tabac La Bonne Franquette in Neuilly-sur-Eure.  I decided this would be a great spot for a break. I spent a few minutes milling around before I decided that what I really needed most was a nap. They had a grass beer garden/picnic type area set up across the street so I settled in for a quick 30 minute nap. Only problem, I am one of randonneuring’s worst ditch-nappers. I got all settled in, closed my eyes and laid there for 25 minutes. I might have fallen asleep for 10 minutes or so, but I doubt it. So, before any of my 3 alarms went off, I was up and moving towards my bike.

 

At this point, I was still undecided about whether I would directly ride the 45ish miles to the finish (which would get me in somewhere around 85 or 86 hours) or pull back and target a finish in excess of 88 hours and 55 minutes to join the Adrian Hands Society. Within a few miles, I entered the small town of Senonches, which had a very welcoming community aid station set up. 

Instantly, I made the Adrian Hands Society decision, pulled in for my second break in 10 miles, and grabbed a cup of coffee. I sat down in a comfy chair and was met by a friendly face, It was, Tor Urdalen a Norwegian rider I had spoken with somewhere several hours ago. He greeted me with something along the lines of, “Hey, Minnesota. How’s the ride going?”  We sat and chatted for about 30 minutes. The conversation, combined with the decision to ease off the hurry to the finish, really put me in a relaxed mood. The rest of the ride to Dreux was a fun, relaxed cruise across a pancake flat plain.   

 

 

 

In prior PBPs, I have always had good luck with controls. However, on arrival in Druex, I quickly figured out I was right in the middle of the bubble. The control was overrun, people were sleeping everywhere, and the food lines were out of everything. To make matters worse, the building was unbearably hot so I decided to go take a 30 minute nap in the grass out behind the building.

 

Leaving Dreux with plenty of time in the bank and only about 25 miles to go was really relaxing. I chatted with a randonneur from Istanbul and had a nice conversation with Danish randonneur, Christian Rasmussen, who I had met at several other 1200k events. I was pleasantly surprised to come around a corner in the small town of Faverolles and find the whole Adrian Hands/party train gang sitting on a curb watching the world go by.  I instantly thought that this photo needs to be on the front of American Randonneur magazine. Just as I was lining up to take the photo, someone tapped me on the shoulder, reached for my phone, and told me to sit on the curb with them. After taking the picture, the guy came over to talk to us—turns out it was the mayor of Faverolles. 

I joined the train for the final 12 miles to Rambouillet. As we approached the finish, it was clear that we needed to kill another 45 minutes or so before we wanted to finish. So, after a discussion with a very confused course marshal, we rolled past the final turn and into Rambouillet. 45 minutes of lively banter and a large beer later, we rolled back to where we bypassed the finish, made the turn, and coasted into the finish line chaos.

For me, 89 hours and 4 minutes after rolling out on Sunday night. My other PBP finishes have been in the overnight hours when the finish area was largely deserted. Finishing late Thursday morning was much more like a party.

 

This PBP was my third and my 12^th 1200km. Every PBP is special and this one was no exception. If there is a better amateur cycling event in the world, I haven’t seen it yet! I feel very fortunate to have been able to participate in this ride and look forward to coming back every 4 years for as long as I’m able.