New Years Day 2016

Day One, Ride One
The Gates of the New Year

Welcome to Shad Rides, the 2016 Edition, home of Team Shad and the words of team leader, head glutton, and lapsed Russian novelist, Dubstoevsky. Allez!

Team Shad has high ambitions for the coming year, namely the Trifecta, the Big Three gravel grinders: the Rasputitsa, the Tour de Heifer, and the D2R2. Starting in mid-April and paced two months apart, the Big Three events are the exclamation points punctuating the nine month season (April to December).

Team Shad successfully completed the Trifecta in 2014 but only managed to participate in the D2R2 in 2015. The goal is all three again in 2016, and that goal shapes the team's schedule and training approach. Basically, the training approach is to maintain a modest riding schedule in January, February and March, as the weather allows. Last year, of course, the Snowy Winter From Hell set in in late January and shut the team down until late April; we had to withdraw from the Rasputitsa 2015 because we were unable to train in the two months prior (and you do not want to enter that race out of shape).

We can't control the weather, of course, and this is New England where anything can happen. Last year in the Woo, it was the snowiest and coldest winter on record. But some years there's been literally no more than a few inches of snow every month or so, mild winters with temps in the mid 60s on New Years Day. All we can do as cycling shad is keep our bikes ready, our spirits up, and our goals in mind. The rest is up to Jah.

Today, Jah abided.

Setting out past the Greek Orthodox Church, Russell St, Woo City
January 1, 2016

A steely, gray day, low 40s, slight breeze, a holiday, roads mostly clear of traffic. The inch and a half of slushy snow from three days ago is mostly gone from the roadways, though there's already plenty of loose sand strewn about. No lax riding! Must pay strict attention at all times.

Which is fine, actually. Paying attention is one of the great aspects of cycling, the need for constant vigilance, the necessity of staying in the moment. Sure, your mind can wander but your senses must stay focused, you must be constantly aware in 360 degrees, you must know what's behind you, what's ahead of you, what the surrounding area is in either side of the road, you must never take the road surface for granted but instead treat it as though every turn of the wheel presents the chance for catastrophe. And yet even with obsessive compulsive attention, a distance cyclist remains at the mercy of circumstance and must trust that a drunken driver, a texting driver, a fooling-around-at-the-wheel teenager will not interject their death karma into the day's journey.

Today, 23+ miles of road, keen attention paid all the way, and the result is a safe return and the first ride of 2016. A road ride to boot. Whizzing along empty pavement, the New England countryside bare, rocky, hilly, thick with stands of hardwood forest, punctuated with gray, icy-looking reservoirs, black crows cawing from the tree tops and lopping along on the wing, dark silhouettes of prophecy against a somber sky.

The spillway for the Kettle Brook reservoirs
Cherry Valley, MA (a part of Leicester)

All of life is a chance, really. We can take every precaution, educate ourselves, watch our health, be vigilant when traveling, wear seat belts, avoid war zones, but there's no guarantee that we'll wake up tomorrow morning. We just trust we will. And so I trust that I will ride again. I don my helmet in a gesture of Wise Precaution, but I also bow low in humble recognition of Fate's fickle intentions.

The old Cold War maxim regarding arms control was "Trust, but verify." A cycling maxim might be "Take nothing for granted, be fucking careful, and hope for the best."

Holden Reservoir from the northern end
January 1, 2016

New England style

Dubstoevksy sends a big HUZZA and a Happy New Year bellow to the Mighty Virginian, dependable Shadmate and decades-long cycling companion; to Master Scrod in Frankfurt, and his Ventoux Calls compadre Meister M recovering from Fate's angry bitch slap; to I Ward, recovering from shoulder surgery; and to all cyclists the world over.

And last but not least, an OM AH HUM to the memory of the Mighty General, long time Director Sportif of Team Shad, tireless supporter and raconteur extraordinaire whom we lost in 2015. Allez, great friend!

The trusty mount
January 1, 2016

2015, Adieu

Mecca

91 rides
The D2R2
No serious injuries
And places like Karl's
Not a bad year

Bancroft Tower, ride #91
December 24, 2015

Dubstoevsky's Folly and the Gift of a Late Season Ride

Some say El Nino is responsible for the ridiculously mild weather that's settled into the Northeast. Others suggest climate change, still others the beneficence of the Cycling Gods. The why doesn't really concern me, but taking advantage of the situation does and so I arranged with the Virginian to meet Saturday morning, December 12, at Lake Matawa in Orange, Massachusetts for a lengthy training ride into territory heretofore unexplored.

I proposed a route that would take us north, climbing steadily out of Orange and that would eventually lead us to Richmond, in southern New Hampshire, at which point we would start to arc our way back southward. We'd been on a few of the proposed roads before (Wheeler Rd, Tully Rd) but much of the route, particularly everything in New Hampshire, would be new. I'd photocopied a portion of the map quadrant from the New Hampshire Gazetteer that showed the area we'd be passing through, plus I had google maps on my IPhone. What could go wrong? It all seemed straightforward.

An incredible day. I actually overdressed and had to strip down a layer before setting out, so warm was the sun and balmy the air. A very unlikely day in mid December, 52 degrees, no wind, few clouds. Cycling perfection!

Wheeler Rd, off rt. 2A, heads north and is a mostly steady climb, all of it nicely paved, bereft of cars, surrounded by forest. Because all the leaves are off the trees, you can see the landscape, its contours, its stonewalls and old foundations, its rolling, rumpled ridges. This is one of the glories of 'winter' riding - unimpeded views into the woods that line the roads.

The Virginian leading the way up Wheeler Rd

Everything went perfectly for an hour or so. Wheeler Rd lead to Tully Rd which lead to Bliss Hill Rd which truly was bliss, a gorgeous empty road through the forest, super steep and challenging. And then it turned into dirt. But not a loose, gravelly dirt, no, the conditions were perfect - well-packed, slightly damp, smooth. We ended up on many dirt roads as you'll see and, thanks and praises to the Cycling Gods, surface conditions on all of them were excellent. In fact, many were so smooth and packed that we likened it to riding on a gymnasium floor or a velodrome lap - polished & with just a hint of spongy softness.

Bliss Hill Rd, the paved portion

Bliss Hill Rd, well-packed dirt

We reached NH feeling great and rushed northward on the main road, rt. 32 until it intersected in Richmond with rt. 119. We decided to go further north to Sandy Pond Rd which skirts the southern edge of the Franconia Mountain Range where we'd then start to loop back south. It all seemed quite clear on the map.

Alas, here is where things began to go awry. Sandy Pond Rd proved easy to find, though not before hurtling down some absolutely monster descents on rt. 32 that had me thinking to myself "Holy shit, this is steep, I'm glad we won't have to climb back up this way!"

Not too far along Sandy Pond Rd, we were on dirt again. Forests along both sides. A couple weird intersections that we thought we interpreted correctly. Down down down slightly rougher dirt roads, thick forest on either side, no visible signs of habitation or farmland or much of anything.

Sandy Pond Rd

Deeper into the woods than we'd anticipated

Finally we stopped. We considered the map. It was hard to decipher where exactly we were, but then we realized that we'd taken a wrong turn at some point. Instead of having reached the furthest point of our intended route and being on the road back, we were, in fact, going the wrong way, and had been for some time. With several miles of descending on dirt road behind us, we realized we were heading north when we should have been heading south. Groan!

Nearly the entire ride to this point had involved climbing and the realization came over us that we were now lost in the Franconia Mountain Range and suddenly time took on a bit of urgency. Still only 1:00 or so, we knew that dusk comes by 4:00 and neither of us had prepared for riding in the gloaming (the Virginian's small blinking red tail light was hopelessly dim, in need of batteries; I hadn't brought any lights at all).

Finally, we figured out a way out, but one that would mean continuing north a little further, then essentially coming out on rt. 32 eight miles north of where we'd first turned off. It meant having to climb the very hills I'd remarked upon to myself earlier. But there was nothing to be done about it but press on.

Once, decades ago, the Virginian and I had gotten lost mountain biking. He'd assured me he knew the trails and the wood roads. That ride too was late in the season but on a colder, more wintry day. In fact, at one point deliberating over the map, it started to snow. We'd pressed on then too, only to come out to a location miles and miles from where we'd parked. That ride turned into a desperate slog back through the gloaming and the cold, both of us chilled and whipped. I chided the Virginian about that ride for years.

But here we were on a new debacle, the ride I'd envisioned now completely FUBAR. This is how this ride has now become Dubstoevsky's Folly, or just Dub's Folly, for short. We'll be joking about it for years to come, no doubt.

Nevertheless, we righted our ship and reclaimed the day. Once we figured out where we were and realized that we would not be stuck out after dark, we dug in our proverbial heals and, with renewed energy, pedaled enthusiastically on. After all, the whole day was something of a gift. A sunny, fifty degree day in December? On a Saturday? With no snow whatsoever to date? Incredible.

Crossing the Miller's River

When all was said and done, and when we finally got back to the cars, we'd covered 54 miles, much of it climbing, and been in the saddle for almost four hours. An epic day.

Gray November Triptych

November 7, 2015

Dour November rides, the foliage fallen from the trees, the harsh news from Paris a grim reminder of mortality and chance.

I might get hit by a car on my next ride. I cannot predict that everything will go well. These days, Western culture under attack from the long subjugated inheritors of colonialism, despotism, and fundamentalism, what can I do but carry on?

Like today, Sunday, November 15, 2015, winter not yet come with vengeance to the Woo, not even a hard freeze yet. The Reservoir road, the swirling wind, the blowing leaves, the denuded trees, the fading light. Or like November 7, the ride from Lemonstar to the Woo, traversing long familiar roads, a grayed acknowledgement of loss, the sun wan in the sky.

We cannot live anywhere but where we live.

I rode to the mountain top on Saturday, November 7th.

Climbing toward the summit

Summit

Tower of Shad

Monadnock to the north

Yesterday, grim wind and gray sky, harsh brown leaves swirling in the surreptitious moil. The Reservoir face an angry ripple of white caps and disapproval. Comfort has waned. Nothing staunches the moment like the loss of season.

Holden Reservoir November 14, 2015

Today I ventured into new terrain on the road bike. From Harris Rd I continued beyond the point at which the road was marked 'closed.' Closed years ago, never kept up, a crumbling pavement path through the woods toward the Quinapoxet River and the Wachusett Reservoir.

Road closed, November 15, 2015

I'd been here before, years ago, and was here now again, and grateful for the recently-added high end 4x season Continental road tires, the surface was cracked and strewn with debris but I didn't fear a flat.

Looking behind

Looking forward

The great challenge posed by road cycling is to be ever alert and ever in the quickly-changing moment, completely aware at all times; a breath-to-breath, pedal-to-pedal stroke forward, fully deliberate. In a weird way, this is actually relaxing; the only thing I as a cyclist need to be concerned with is my immediate moment. No baggage, nothing making fraught the struggle, just the road ahead, every rolling wheel circle a victory.

The yawning maw of expanse

Black Shroud

This morning we are sad for Paris.  The black shroud of war has fallen across the great city.

Three Beautiful Days, But a Grim Discovery on Halloween

These days are not supposed to be this nice - mid 60s, sunny, clear. The last vestiges of bright foliage have been bathed in rich, late afternoon sun day in and day out. Terrific rides, albeit now becoming abbreviated, certainly the midweek afternoon rides; last weekend brought the end of Daylight Savings time.

Thursday the 29th, Almost 70 Degrees

Reservoir Road

The view from the repaired bridge on Reservoir Rd

Climbing up South Rd

Back in the Woo

Return of Dubstoevsky

Halloween Day, and the Grim Discovery

Halloween Saturday was bright and clear, also warm, I headed out for a brisk Reservoir Loop. All was fine and irie as I made my way out of the neighborhood environs.

Pleasant St, Halloween 2015

I sped through Tatnuck to Olean St and, feeling good, kept a steady pace on the run up to, and then around, Holden Reservoir. Then I came upon a macabre scene, a pheasant massacre. A pile of ring-necked pheasants dumped in the pine needles along the side of the road.

Massacre of the innocent

The work of some moron hunter, no doubt. It made me sad to see such waste. My father hunted and I grew up eating roast pheasant (wrapped in bacon!). We ate everything he shot - pheasant, woodcock, grouse, rabbits. So seeing this atrocity saddened me greatly.

I rode on and then not much later came across another wretched death scene, this one no doubt the work of automobiles.

Grim road kill site

Tuesday, November 3

The sun sets now at 4:29 pm so the window of riding opportunity is narrow for post-work riding. Nevertheless, I was able to get away in time this afternoon and managed another Reservoir run, this one thankfully devoid of discarded carcasses. Another warm day, again almost 70 degrees.

Shadman and the Golden Shadows

Transitions

I took twelve days off, not necessarily by choice but by circumstance. Among other things, I had this to deal with:

Supposed to be two cords; whether it was or not, it was a lot to put away

Hauling and storing this winter's firewood took the better part of a weekend.

But I finally got back on the bike and had a terrific late afternoon ride on Tuesday the 27th. We are at the tail end of fall foliage but there was still ample color to enjoy while cruising through the neighborhoods.

Dubstoevsky in yellow

Not just in the neighborhoods. Zooming along the reservoir offered awesome views of the autumn sublime.

Holden Reservoir, October 27, 2015

Zoomed in

The good news from the reservoir is that the bridge that is being worked on can now be crossed by bicycles. Cars still have to detour up South Rd but a cyclist can now choose to go around the head of the reservoir right to Bailey Rd or onward to the top of Reservoir Drive.

Because I enjoy the South Rd climb so much, I did the climb, then turned around and sped back to the reservoir where I encountered two cyclists heading across the bridge. I followed them and made a decent effort to catch them, but failed. Later, Strava flyby details showed them to be Mike Myers and Erik Olson from Worcester. These lads evidently ride a lot more than I do and it's no surprise I was unable to reel them in. Turns out they are denizens of Woo City.

Fellow Strava lads from Woo City

They ended up heading further into Holden while I peeled off onto Bailey Rd and turned my wheels back toward the Woo. I took in Bancroft Tower before returning to Team Shad HQs.

Autumn Tower October 27, 2015

Daylight's saving time kicks in this coming weekend so it's likely that my weekday afternoon rides are numbered. As the Mighty Scrod in Frankfurt has already gotten off his bike for the season and is now focusing on stretching and yoga, I may be forced to follow his example.