Here is part 3 of my gripping recount of the 2015 Northwest Tandem Rally!
Back at the hotel, we were either
eating or laying down. The tandem was running quite well, and now rested up
against our hotel room wall. I had put a lot of smaller efforts pre-trip into getting it
ready, and remarkably no major work was needed. It was a new-old-stock Santana
Arriva. Size small, though still a bit long in the captain's ol' top tube, if
you get my drift. I think it was a 2003. Quite honestly, for $975 it was a
screaming deal to get us into a higher-end tandem bike. I had never seen
9-speed brifters in such immaculate condition.
We stopped by Fred Meyer's to stock up on bars and other foods. For some reason
I get excited when I visit a new-to-me chain supermarket. Especially when they
sell other stuff that isn't food. I got the same feeling when I first entered a
Menards in Indiana.
The plan at that point was the get plenty of sleep and meet our new friends in
the camping area that NWTR had set up for those who didn't want to hotel it. It
was a few blocks away, and at 8AM we managed to roll up on our tandem. The
friendly couple was living comfortably in a converted Sprinter RV. I'm way into
Sprinters, so this was a good start to the day. My wife seems to have no qualms
about potentially living in one in the future, so I'll keep that option tucked
into my back pocket for now.
Our friends promptly got suited up, and we rolled out. The route itself was
pretty straightforward, and we had timed our departure well enough to quickly
meld into a small group of other tandem riders.
We only made it so far before an
incident occurred. The front tire of another tandem bike got hung up on the
edge of some pavement that was slightly elevated above the bike lane. It was
akin to riding along a small sidewalk curb, causing the upper weight of you and
the bike to topple over. This is something I see every now and then, and it’s
tricky to see ahead of time or recover from if it’s a big enough lip. Both
captain and stoker fell over, but they seemed okay. To be honest, I expected
broken bones, but as I said before…ageism on my part.
The group started moving once
again. The scenery was a mix of coastal homes and big trees, with faint
glimpses of the cliffs and ocean below. We continued climbing higher along the
coast, eventually getting nearer to the cliffs edge such that we could take in
some nice views. The fires populating the Pacific Northwest had managed to cast
a thin aura of smoke over everything in the distance. The views were nice, but my photos didn't really capture that...
My somewhat-demanding shifting
style was being adopted reasonably well by my wife. I really hate shifting
under power, as you can hear the entire drivetrain crackle and groan. We
basically became accustomed to me stating “shifting!” whenever I was about to
do so. Otherwise, my wife wouldn’t know to let off the pedaling a bit. It was
more of a concern on chainring shifts, as you could run into other issues such
as dropped chains and so forth. Other groups didn’t seem to abide by any timing
of shifting. I listened to their chains drag across the gears. It sounded
awful, but maybe you just accept this fate after some time riding together.
Our ride continued further, and
we reached the first pit stop. I’m amazed we didn’t blow by it, actually. The
turnout was on a very steep downhill, and not marked entirely well. It was a
campground along the coast. It might actually be nice to stay at during a
separate visit. We filled up our bottles, ate some fruit and donuts (the latter
of which never seems to pan out well for me) and carried on with our tandem
companions. The big hill continued downward until we reached a very flat region
of farmland that ran along the coast. It was nice to drop out attention for a
few miles. Bombing downhill on a tandem creates some additional excitement and
it’s a bit nerve racking for both riders.
Speaking of bombing downhill, I
should mention that prior to the trip the front brake was suffering from very
chattery and squealing behavior. I changed the pads to some KoolStops, which
helped somewhat. But the trick wound up being a brake bridge. It wasn’t even
particularly fancy, just some $9 piece of plate steel cut into the proper
shape. It boosted the stiffness of the cantilever mounts enough that the
chatter basically disappeared unless you really, really, really went hard on
the brakes. Now we wouldn’t draw as
much attention to ourselves.
 |
| Yep...this little $5 thing solved our noise woes |
The flat riding continued
southward. At a major intersection, we opted to take a truncated version of the
long route, versus the more direct medium route path. It led us out to a
peninsula. We had high hopes for scenery and so forth, but ultimately it was
kind of a letdown. There was a fair bit of wind, we were already pretty tired,
and a particular hill caused some grumpiness to well up inside of us. We came
out of the peninsula section a bit worse for wear.
Fortunately, upon returning to
that initial intersection where we’d pick up the return portion of the loop,
there was soon another pit stop. We definitely needed it. The organizers had
set up alongside a small farm. It was quite nice, for whatever reason, despite
offering similar fare to the other stops prior. They did have Spam, to say the
least.
We gently hopped back on to the
saddles, at this point suffering sore behinds. I had picked up a new saddle
from The Hub Cyclery. It was some vintage Specialized thing. Actually quite a
nice fit, I thought, and it only cost $5, but obviously my buns didn’t have the
proper endurance. My wife was having a hard time as well, and so we took turns
standing up and relieving some pressure. This return loop was another
nice section of road. Effectively devoid of traffic, and with nice breezes and
some shade.
There were a few particularly
challenging hills to contend with. One of them even elicited a cry of “you need
to put out some watts”. Yes, I was the one who uttered this very Fred-like
phrase. To be fair, it was partially to amuse myself, partially to amuse my wife,
and partially to convey some sense of urgency during the hill climb. Feeling a
tandem bike start to wobble from lack of speed is unsettling, and we were
having just that problem. But my pep talk, or pep line, I suppose, had also
caused my wife to begin laughing uncontrollably. I quickly noticed that her
laughter and her power output were inversely related. Every stifled, panting
breath of amusement created more slow-speed wobbles. I tried to make up the
difference, and basically blew myself up on this incredibly steep quarter-mile
climb. I wasn’t annoyed, per se. Just very tired. At least we made it! It would
set the stage for what we could pedal up. A good motivator when other hills
showed themselves.
The last hill was a bit less
funny for my wife. It was at the very, very end of the ~50 mile loop. Kind of
unfair, she said. I agreed. But we made it up, and coasted all the way back
into town, to a park where the organizers had set up the afternoon lunch and
desert. Ice cream and sandwich wraps. And shade and a place to sit down. We
were very happy to be there. The ice cream was from a place we had visited a
day earlier, while walking around downtown, so we knew it would be good.
After recovering for about an
hour, we reluctantly climbed aboard the tandem again. It was all downhill from
here, in a good way. We rolled back to our hotel, and I can’t quite remember
what happened after that, other than getting dinner and going to sleep. The
next day would bring upon us another long ride, but one that proved much more challenging!
By the way, I actually got the GPS up and running for this ride. Here's a map of our route. Note the out and back on the southern peninsula.
