D2R2 2015: Part I

All week leading up to Saturday we'd followed the weather forecast closely, concerned about the rainy front predicted to move into the area just in time for the weekend. But there's something so good and so karmically right about the D2R2 that the rainy front upped its pace and rolled through the region on Friday, a day early.

The result? Dusty gravel roads compacted and smoothed over, the humidity greatly tempered, the air freshened and cleaned. In short, utterly perfect conditions.

Saturday came for me at 4:10 AM when I woke in the Woo, made a double shot latte, loaded the gear & the Crux Elite, and set off at 5:00. 122 north through Paxton, Rutland, Barre, Petersham was empty at that hour and as dawn crept across the sky sending its light through the forests on either side, I flew toward Deerfield with Live Dead filling the Shad Wagon.

In a little more than and hour, I arrived. Mist drifted off the fields, the sky brightened, the multi-colored tents from the campground stood out in the emerald green expanse.

About 6:15 AM

One hallmark of this event is how well organized it is. Everything is taken care of. A policeman directs cars onto the designated parking field where volunteers motion them into neat rows. The registration tent is spacious, long tables with boxes of registrant packets organized alphabetically. The dining tent presents tables of food - scrambled eggs, hard-boiled eggs, oatmeal, muffins, bananas, peanut butter & jelly, coffee. I'm parked, checked-in, got my bib & chip on (#743), and am getting my bike off the roof rack within 15 minutes of arriving.

Seamless organization

I also find The Virginian right away. He didn't park his car because he didn't bring his car. As if doing an all day 160K ride wasn't enough, he opted to ride from his home perched in the hills of Conway down to Deerfield, probably ten miles or so, in the pre-dawn gloaming.

"It's all down hill," he replies, shrugging off my expression of incredulity. The Virginian. He's the kind you want as a teammate. Nothing phases him.

At 7:10, we roll through the starting gate. The timing mechanism bleeps twice, recognizing our bib chips, and we're officially underway. The air is cool but comfortable, 61 degrees or so. No need for the arm warmers I bought in anticipation of a soggy, overcast day. Nor the sleeveless windbreaker. It's gonna' be gorgeous all day, that's evident even as we speed along the first ten miles of pavement, heading toward the hills.

Randonneur Extraordinaire

A few other riders had departed close to when we did and we all coalesced at one point and rode together for while. Most of the routes follow similar roads and periodically overlap but the 160K is pretty distinct and spins out on its own. We would encounter many of the same riders throughout the day, alternately passing and being passed, or exchanging notes and expressions of enthusiasm at rest stops and lunch.

Unfortunately for the purposes of Shad Rides, the little pocket camera I carry to document these adventures crapped out not long after we set out, maybe two hours or so into the ride, so the visual evidence of today's ramble is necessarily limited. Nevertheless, it was still working as we hit the first stretch of dirt road.

A couple of 160K riders getting the first taste of the good stuff

And just like that, we were into the terrain that puts the "Dirt Road" in "Deerfield Dirt Road Randonee," and we'd stay on it for the better part of seven hours. By necessity, there would be stretches of pavement that stitched the course together (mostly empty country roads in the hills) but there would also be broken down old farm roads, craggy forest passageways, gnarly rutted tracks tumbling down steep slopes or climbing upward toward unseen ridges, gravelly ridge roads that offered sweeping views across valleys, long empty stretches of fields. We would see Mt. Monadnock, Mt. Greylock, and a myriad of lesser mountains and hills we didn't know the names of.

Craggy forest road

Farm road under cerulean sky

Gravel style

The 160K, though not the longest, is arguably as hard as the 180K, particularly the pre-lunch route. Much of the major climbs come before the lunch break, and lunch doesn't happen until the 62 mile point. That's a long morning with some exceptional hills. Packers Corner Rd at the 18 mile mark kicks things off with a long 1 mile ascent that breaks up the group of some ten riders that we'd been cruising with. The Virginian and I move off the front and climb away from the rest.

At the 40 mile point comes the rest stop, it's at the familiar covered bridge alongside a languid river where I remember eating lunch the first time I rode the D2R2 back in 2011. Perfect timing; we're tired, hungry, and our water bottles need filling. I've sworn to be more conscientious about eating and hydrating this year so I've drank a lot already and was ready for a refill.

Familiar covered bridge

The first rest stop, 40 miles in

My 'Steal Your Face' jersey catches the attention of a cyclist who comes up to me and says "Hey, I like your jersey." Unfortunately, just a moment before, I'd inhaled a crumbly piece of hard boiled egg yoke and was desperately trying to clear my throat and not choke. What followed was a comical, if awkward, conversation with Wyatt, from Townsend, MA (two towns over from where I grew up).

"Townsend?" (hack hack) "I grew up near there."

"Did you see any of the Fare Thee Well shows?" Wyatt asks.

(Cough, choke, eyes running) "Uhm, no" (hack) ".... but I watched the last one on TV."

"My family made a road trip out of it, we drove to Chicago, camping along the way. Then my wife and her friend went to the last show. It was fantastic!"

"That's great!" I hack, "sweet!" Cough! Cough! Oy.

Wyatt seems unfazed by my distress, expresses how much he likes this ride, and tells me that he's here for the hills. "I have a thing for climbing, you know?"

I know. I feel the same way. Between two final prodigious hacks, I tell him I relish the climbing too and wish him a bon velo.

Hydration station

D2R2 2015: Part II