Craters 1200k

 Craters 1200k

Is a bicycle a small craft? This was the question I was pondering lying in bed the night before the Craters 1200k. After a very dry summer and beautiful September, the weather in the Pacific Northwest was about to turn. It turned directly into the path of the inaugural Craters 1200k.

The Seattle International Randonneurs (SIR) have run a 1000k version of Crater Lake seven times, always with rave enthusiastic reviews. Seven SIR members pre-rode the course one week prior to the event. That pre-ride produced the most detailed ride report I’ve ever seen, courtesy of Mitch Ishihara. If you didn’t know what to expect, you didn’t read Mitch’s ride report. There was one variable however, the weather. The pre-ride dry weather and tailwinds had been replaced by heavy rain, thunderstorms and headwinds for much of the first two days. Many of you are familiar with the pay for service app Epic Ride Weather. The app produces a detailed weather report along the intended course based upon the predicted speed of the rider.  For this ride, the name was appropriate, emphasis on “Epic”.

 

As the riders tossed and turned in their fitful sleep the night before the ride start, the storms warranting the small craft advisory were wreaking havoc on the course. As 5am approached the certainty of beginning in a dark rain was accepted.  Fifteen anxious riders fiddled with fenders, rain jackets and gps units, temporarily protected from the elements under the Redmond Hampton Inn porte cochère.  Eventually the hesitant peloton rolled into the wet darkened streets. The previous night’s storms had turned the road course into more of a cyclocross event. Branches, trees and power lines were downed everywhere. Several roads were closed and at least one bike path required a “bicycle bucket brigade” as man and machine traversed the debris field.

 

Most of the field stuck together on the first day. The peloton’s already soggy mood dampened further as they stopped at the Packwood control (200km) realizing the power was out.  Fortunately, a generator kept the checkout and coffee machines in working order. The restorative powers of “cup-of-noodles” worked their magic in an otherwise darkened Packwood gas station as elk roamed the parking lot. The rains abated for a while as the course progressed westward.  Stopped at a convenience store, 75km out from the overnight I checked the radar.  At first, I didn’t understand what I was seeing.  We appeared to be completely surrounded by rain, yet it wasn’t currently raining.  Then I zoomed in and the situation was explained.  We were located at the one pixel on the screen where it was not raining.  Shortly we were enveloped in the storm.  Mirroring the start, the remainder of the first day was completed in the darkness and rain. Mercifully the main group sloshed into the warm well stocked overnight in Cathlamet (388km) just after midnight.

 

The overnight controls were well stocked and staffed and therefore highly efficient. There was no need for ensure weighing down drop bags as it was provided at the overnight controls. Multiple sweet or savory hot and cold choices were available before bed and departure. Rags and chain lube came in handy due to the conditions of days 1 and 2. A nice touch appreciated by the riders was that drop bags were waiting in their assigned rooms. These little details maximized sleep which is important since time buffers were hard earned.

 

The sprinkling of a few flats on day one gained momentum on day 2. By day 3 it was an outright deluge.

Many of these roads hadn’t seen rain in months. Now all those flints and tiny pieces of glass had been floated out of their hiding cracks and crevices and had directed their sharp edges towards our tires. Neither tubed nor tubeless setups could withstand the assault. The crescendo of deflations occurred on the third day, not on the road but at a gas station. Ian Hands had leaned his fixed gear against the wall while we sat on the curb snacking. We heard his front tire deflate which seemed odd since there was no rider on the bike and no one even near the bike. As Ian started in the change the front tire, psssssssssss went the rear. It was the exceedingly rare double tubeless spontaneous flat. Teamwork and spicy language facilitated the double tubeless to tube conversion. At this point, flat repair supplies were dwindling and a resupply of tubes and CO² cartridges were secured from Bicycles 101 in Reedsport Oregon, a shop devoted to “Bikes and Guitars”.  Total flat count for day 3 would reach 11, not 10 but 11.  As a counterpoint to a county worried about inflation, our group was occupied by the very real and present deflation!

 

Before lunch on the second day, the riders crossed the mighty Colombia river into Oregon at Astoria.  Despite its designation as an official bike route, the bridge is 4 miles long and a less than pleasant experience to traverse by bicycle. This was especially so for our group, as a squall pounded us with rain and wind during the crossing. The meat of days 2 and 3 featured the Oregon coast along hwy 101. The scenery was spectacular but lumpy. Some sections had quite a bit of car traffic but it always felt safe due to wide shoulders and smooth road surfaces. Drivers were mainly patient as they regularly see bicycle tourists on the 101. Personally, I really enjoyed riding along the coast at night. Car traffic disappeared leaving the roads to us and the sounds of the Pacific Ocean pounding the shoreline. Several times waves breached the sea wall onto the shoulder of the road but never quite soaked us.

 

Just past the Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area the course turned inland sending the riders to higher elevations and quieter roads. This became readily apparent on Camp Creek Rd. which was temporarily closed to car traffic due to fallen trees. The road is in the process of being reclaimed by Mother Nature. It is fragmented and steep, very steep. Several bikes were relieved of their burdens as riders walked short sections of Camp Creek. Eventually the summit was reached as it intersects another forest road (873km). Waiting there was volunteer Ken Lanteigne who had pre-ridden a week earlier and who now chose to celebrate his birthday in the middle of nowhere supporting exhausted riders.  

Ken had snacks, chairs and a small camp stove. Empty bottles were replenished. This is not an easily accessible area for a volunteer but it was a very important resupply for the riders.  It is difficult to overstate the degree of dedication it takes to drive to a remote spot in the woods hours from your home on your birthday to support a ride.  Thanks Ken, and happy birthday!

 

A fast descent led to the valley floor where the course began the early gradual ascent toward higher altitudes and the final overnight. Limited motel accommodations split the peloton into two motels separated by 13km. The final day would be a challenge and most of the peloton was rolling by 4:30-5:30am.  Greeting the riders on day 4 was a steady climb of around 130km accumulating 2700m of ascent which would place them at the rim of the Crater and the literal and metaphysical high point of the ride 2340m (7678ft).  Rose and Greg Cox met riders on the climb at Diamond Lake (1061km) and then again at the Rim Village (1099km) in their well-stocked pickup which proved to be a roving oasis.

The 40k descent down from Crater Lake was a well-deserved reward from their all-day climb.  It also served to keep weary riders awake.  Particularly invigorating were the cut rumble strips on a section of 9% downhill! The descent led into a beautiful flat (I shouldn’t have used that word) section through farmland with the setting sun off to the right.  The glory parade home was interrupted by one final flat repair (see I told you) and a short but steep gravel climb toward the finish.

 

A small celebration punctuated the successful completion with Thai food and malted beverages supervised by the big game trophies overlooking the lobby at the Best Western Olympic Inn, Klamath Falls.  The following day riders departed via Amtrak for the journey back to Seattle or points further South.

 

The Craters 1200k was an epic adventure over some of the most spectacular scenery the US has to offer.  Despite a challenging course, variable weather and the threat of smoke from ongoing forest fires, the ride was executed to perfection by the Seattle International Randonneurs.  Events like the Craters 1200k require many hours of hard work and planning.  RUSA and its members are fortunate to have so many dedicated and talented volunteers to host these Grand Randonnées.  Massive thanks to Rose Cox, Greg Cox, Mark Thomas, Matt Close, Yonnel Gardes, Gary Cruce, Vinny Muoneke, Susan Otcenas, Graham Ross, Bill Dussler, Thai Nguyen, Mitch Ishihara and Ken Lanteigne. 

 

 

Hot Enough to Melt a Glacier - Glacier 1300k

Climate change has the world’s glaciers receding and the battle between fire and ice was on full display during the 2024 edition of the Seattle International Randonneurs’ (SIR) Glacier 1300k.  The event was dominated by a heatwave gripping the Pacific Northwest. On the morning of the ride start, I received a notification from the NYT bearing an unwelcome title, Pacific Northwest Braces for a Blistering Heat Wave Over the Weekend.  Yikes, now what was that refund policy...

The ride title is taken from the finish destination, Whitefish Montana which serves as the gateway to Glacier National Park. It also serves as a reminder of how much ice would be required to prevent riders from spontaneous combustion, a glacier’s worth.  Four of the five days saw temperatures over 100 degrees.  Ice socks were de rigueur.  Insulated bottles, mandatory.  Every bit of exposed skin required a covering.  When the garmin reads 122 degrees, you are in survival mode.

I first heard about the Glacier ride held as a point to point 1000k run by the Oregon Randonneurs in 2007. I've been interested in it ever since.  SIR has also run the Glacier ride as a 1000k but this was the first time it was offered as a 1300k. The ride actually weighed in at 1389k but who's counting.  This would be my first point to point Grand Randonnée.  The format is uncommon as it produces logistical challenges.  Only a small backpack could be transported in the drop bag vehicle.  How do you get a bike box from the start to the finish? Fortunately, Amtrak runs from Whitefish back to Seattle, so that was an option to return rider and machine to the start. I chose to mail my bike using Bikeflights to the start and then had Glacier Cyclery in Whitefish do the same, sending it back to my house after the finish.  My part was just to get the bike from Seattle to Whitefish on time.  I flew from Whitefish back to Charlotte after the ride.  Logistics can be sorted.

Course Map SIR's Glacier 1300k 2024

SIR is blessed with a stockpile of experienced volunteers and it shows during their events. They countered the heatwave with roving support and added manned stops identified by the pre-riders, who also had to deal with hot conditions. They even handled a late first day rerouting due to an unexpected pass closure with aplomb.  The only issue with the rerouting was that day one was now 426k instead of 347k, so the start was moved to 4am and the riders were sent off into the dark. 

The day one re-route took the course south and to the west of Mt. St. Helens and by the time we hit Lane Road up and over Green Mt., I almost erupted. Green Mountain is a punchy climb at 2.9k averaging 9.1% but with many steeper grades suitable for walking.  Once the course hit Longview we turned to the southeast and into Gifford Pinchot National Forest.  The hour was getting late and no services were open.  Enter volunteer Peg Miller who had set up her camper oasis next to the course in Cougar WA.

Peg offered seating, hot and cold snacks and lively converstaion.  It was a much needed refueling before tackling Oldman Pass.  I thanked Peg for her time and her effort in marking this as a SAG stop. 
She had multiple traffic cones along the road with blinking Christmas lights.  I said it was a welcome sight and impossible to miss.  Everyone’s attention turned to a rider (name withheld to protect the guilty) who had just ridden by without stopping and had to be chased down, awkward, lol. Eventually, I reached the overnight in Carson after one complete revolution of the Earth.  24hrs is a long time to be on the bike! Despite the grueling first day, an early alarm was set as day two was expecting a high temperature of 107 degrees. The more riding that could be done early, the better.

When I was first reviewing the course with someone familiar with the area, day two was highlighted.  I was told that the prevailing winds up the Columbia River Gorge would likely produce one of the fastest 200ks that I had ever ridden.  Unfortunately, the god of wind decided that morning to be a bit of a contrarian and slam us with an all day block headwind.  The headwind in combination with the high temperatures produced one of the unholiest riding days that I have ever experienced.
 

The Columbia River Gorge is beautiful, but NOT shady.  For the love of God, would someone please plant a tree?  I was creeping into the blowing furnace and then there it was, a tree.  Not exactly what we would call a tree back in NC but still a live plant with leaves providing a bit of shade next to the road.  I stopped and sat down in the shade.  I was joined shortly by Karel Stroethoff.  Karel decided it was time for a ditch nap and I didn’t take much convincing to join him.  A few minutes later we were awakened by a concerned passing motorist who had stopped to check on us.  We were fine, weren’t we?  The driver was not convinced and would not leave until we took a few bottles of water from him.  When I remounted my bike I saw that the temperature was the proverbial 99 degrees in the shade! We received some much needed roving support that day from volunteers and from good samaritans.  One guy found me leaning over my bars and pulled over just to let me sit in his car for 10 minutes while he directed all air conditioner vents my way.  It was definitely an epic day, and I don’t use that term lightly. I bought a bag of ice at every stop, a pattern that would continue for the rest of the event.  I used an old tube sock to fill with ice and then drape around my neck. 

Others used an ice filled zip lock bag with a few holes packed under their jersey in the upper back. I wore the Voler arm and leg sleeves and they worked flawlessly.  Despite the biblical conditions, I did not suffer a single mm of sunburn. Mercifully, the sun gave way to a beautiful blood moon.  I witnessed the red moonrise directly over the Columbia River as I was nearing the overnight in Umatilla, Oregon.  It was spectacular. Sadly, I did not have the energy to stop for a picture.  Day three was predicting even higher temperatures! What planet is this? Oh well, the earlier to bed the earlier to rise and to beat some of the heat.

On day three we left behind the Columbia River to continue its battle with the formidable sun.  

We ventured into the rolling wheat-lands of eastern Oregon.  We rode through miles of golden wheat fields swaying in the breeze, and this time the wind direction was working with us. Massive open grain piles stood under shoots.  The open piles are replacing the antiquated grain elevators due to lesser regulations, larger capacities and lower cost. 

This confirmed for me that no rain would be encountered. Who would leave millions of pounds of wheat out in the open if rain was coming. Second breakfast was a hearty homemade sandwich on a bench outside the grocery in Athena.  I multitasked filling all necessary ice holding devices. We would for the first time be turning towards the north and heading across eastern Oregon, with expected highs well above 100 again. Many of the locals in the small towns that dotted the farmlands were curious about our ride.  After all, what kind of mad people would be out riding bikes in this heat.  These locals were genuinely concerned about us and often offered help or advice.  The more desolate the location, the more involved people are with the safety of others.  I call this the opposite of the “bystander effect”.  If they might be our only chance for assistance, they don’t hesitate to offer.  

In Dayton I stopped at the local Mercantile hoping to secure a “Subway” sandwich as they had the classic sign outside.  I couldn’t find the Subway but what I did find was even better.  The Subway had closed but the mercantile had taken over that shell and was serving made to order sandwiches.  Mine was made by a local high school senior who peppered me with questions about our event.  I told him we were headed for Colfax for the night. He said that wasn’t too bad since it was only about an hour away.  I reminded him that I was pedaling a bicycle and 100k was difficult to cover in an hour.  We laughed and I went on my way.  As I rode down main street I noticed giant banners honoring the local high school seniors.  There featured on one banner hanging from a light post was the kid that just made my sandwich! I was only there for five minutes and I already knew someone.

The wind continued to push us to the northeast and eventually across the Snake River.  SIR had a support station set up near some silos next to the Snake River crossing.  It was a beautiful sight, backlit by a ruby twilight.  I had a ginger ale, chips, a pickle and a pickle shot and began the lumpy bits up to Colfax. I ended Day 3 in Colfax gobbling watermelon and cantaloupe in the big conference room serving as command central.  The food and drink was plentiful and the varied choices much appreciated.

Highlighting Day 4 would be a 103k segment on the Trail of the Coeur d’Alenes, a well- maintained paved rail trail spanning the panhandle of Northern Idaho.  Much of the trail follows the Coeur d’Alene River and the shoreline of Lake Coeur d’Alene. I’ve never seen a moose on a brevet probably because they don’t know how to ride bikes, but I spotted three along this segment of trail.

 

Even though the trail was very enjoyable, it still was hot and many sections were exposed. I must have gotten dehydrated moose watching because by the time we exited the trail in Wallace, I had lost all power in the engine room. I was also feeling a bit woozy.  Something was definitely wrong and yet there was still 100k more riding with two significant passes before reaching the overnight in Thompson Falls, Montana. I took an extended break in Wallace with a sit down dinner at the Chalkboard with Greg Cardell. Greg carried on and I stayed behind resting further at a gas station. I resupplied with ice under a giant “Kratom Sold Here” sign. 

Satellite trackers were mandatory for this ride. Everyone could see anyone’s position. It was around this time that I began receiving texts of encouragement. I’m sure friends were concerned that I was the lanterne rouge by over an hour and still with a tough 100k before sleep. The messages really picked up my deflated spirit. I drank 4 bottles of Pedialyte, ate a few Tums and eventually set off to tackle Dobson (9.6k, 445m) and Thompson (20k, 738m) passes. I was pleased to make it up and over Dobson pass still in the twilight but Thompson would be done in the dark. Thompson Pass was longer and more difficult but I haven’t met a grade that I couldn’t walk. Eventually, I reached the top and began the long dark descent into Thompson Falls. Animals were everywhere! I saw my fourth moose for the day,and this time it was on the road! I went around the moose and not a mile later a bobcat darted into the road and then did a 180 right back to where it had come from. I also saw owls and herds of deer. I heard other animals scurrying in the rocks and I did my best to scurry into my cabin at Thompson Falls just before 2:30 am. Plans had already been made for a 7am breakfast at Minnie’s Montana Cafe.

The breakfast did not disappoint. We left Thompson Falls with fuel gauges pegged way past full.  On the final day I had a posse. Ian Hands, Chris Graham, John Morris and Charlie Martin would not let me out of their sight. Ian’s job was to pull across the flats and to periodically spritz me with a mister bottle held behind his back.

Charlie accepted the position of climbing sherpa, staying with me on all climbs despite the fact that he could have done them much quicker without his charge. As the day was heating up Charlie mentioned that it would be a good idea if he could bomb me with cold water balloons periodically. I thought that was something I hadn’t seen or experienced on a brevet but yeah, I agreed that would be good. It wasn’t just some pipe dream for Charlie mentioned as a vague possibility never to be acted upon. For Charlie, this became a mission. In an amazing moment of synchronicity at our next convenience store stop he found the grail. The grail of water balloon filling efficiency that is. I didn’t even know such things existed but basically 20 water balloons can be prepared simultaneously with one attachment to a hose or sink and then the balloons are self sealed with small rubber bands as they are pulled off their stems. Charlie then packed balloons into his feed bags with ice and the extras into his tail bag. The supply of 60 balloons would last him until the end of the ride. While not every balloon reached its target or exploded on impact, enough did their intended job to keep our engines running cool until the finish in Whitefish. 

Another late change made to the course at the suggestion of the pre-riders was to get riders off of hwy 93 as much as possible towards the end of the course and this was accomplished with a series of side roads and bicycle paths. This change was much appreciated by the riders and by the pick-up drivers of Montana who don’t seem to enjoy seeing bicycles on the roadway.

We finished before sunset and began the important task of the telling of tall tales. There was a common room for napping and showers and we celebrated with beers and burgers. As the celebration was winding down, the lanterne rouge, Pierre Moreels, rolled in to cheers from the remaining crowd. Like everyone else, Pierre had his finishing medal presented by Miss Adrian Hands. It was an enjoyable moment for me since I had shared many kilometers with Pierre and even though he hasn’t completed a PBP with a time of 88:55 or greater, he rides with the spirit of Adrian Hands for certain.

A huge shout out to the volunteers who made this event possible: Rose Cox, Greg Cox, Mark Thomas, Peg Miller, Jeanene Williams, Jan Acuff, Carl and Susan Lind, Andy Sapuntzakis, Elizabeth Mills, Doug McLerran, Keith Moore, Matt Close, Bob Brudvik and John Morris.

Captions:

• John Morris with Mount Rainier in the sun, D1.
• Peg Miller's camper sag in Cougar, D1.
• Karel Stroethoff heading east in the Columbia River Gorge, D2
• Jasmine Wu, James Porter and Karel Stroethoff enjoy a much needed roving resupply provided by volunteers Carl and Susan Lind, D2.
• Ice sockin', D2.
• Osprey with fish takeout as the sun rises on a very hot day 3 ride up the Columbia.
• Karel Stroethoff single speeds into the rolling waves of amber grain.
• Snake River crossing, Evel Knievel would be proud.
• SIR refuel stop on the bank of the Snake River as the sun sets on D3.
• Phil Jones heads for the Idaho border, day 4. (horiz)
• Pierre Moreels enjoys the view from the Trail of the Coeur d’Alenes.
• First moose sighting, Trail of the Coeur d’Alenes.
• Icing down the engines before tackling Dobson Pass.
• Breakfast at Minnie's Montana Cafe did not disappoint.
• Chris Graham and Ian Hands flying the colors just past Lonepine Montana, day 5.
• Charlie Martin daydreaming about water balloons in Montana, day 5.
• The lanterne rouge, Pierre Moreels receives his medal from Miss Adrian Hands.Greg and Rose Cox providing roving support on D3. They also graciously hosted me prior to the ride which was very generous of them. Merci!

Primativo 1 2 3…

 The Camino Primativo is a much less traveled path but what it lacks in perigrinos it makes up for with scenery. With fewer pilgrims and options for lodging, our family is developing quickly. We have stayed in 3 wonderful places, 2 of them donativos (donation only). The donativos include family style dinner and breakfast. Our traveling band includes:

Thomas from Switzerland, who is a watchmaker and grew up on a dairy farm. If his grandfather was a chocolatier, the stereotype would be complete. He has stayed all 3 nights with us despite being much faster than us. Much faster when he is walking but a significant amount of his day is consumed drinking coffee so we often finish ahead of him. 

Laura who is from Florida but now lives in Malaga. She is there for a few years with her Italian boyfriend. They met in Orlando when he was in flight school. Now he has taken a job in Malaga and she was fed up with the practice of law, so she’s taking a sabbatical in Spain and exploring. She is hilarious and I’ve told her that if she never wants to practice law again she has a definite career path in stand up comedy. Last night she serenaded our donativo after dinner playing Fleetwood Mac on the yukulele. 

Naty is a yoga instructor from Siberia. She is the first yogi that I have ever met from Siberia. In fact, she is the first person I have met from Siberia. She is very fast and covered our first 2 stages in 1 d. Fortunately for us she developed a large raw spot on her heel and has had to slow down to our pace. Yesterday midday she threw out her hiking boots of 10 yrs and purchased Keens sandals. Once her heel heals we’ll say our goodbyes. After the Fleetwood Mac concert Naty led the group in a floor stretching session. 

Joining in for the first time last night was Alphonso. He is a local who is riding the Primativo on a mountain bike. He covered our first 3 days in 1. He is also hilarious and had us rolling with his wit. He’s also passed on a lot of local insider intel. Our plan is to sabotage his bicycle so he’s forced to join us by foot. We were discussing cidre which is a huge part of the culture here in Asturias. As the conversation built and arms were extended overhead mimicking the way that it is poured, our host Diego produced a bottle of local cidre. We all stepped out into the street and Alphonso and Diego put on a display pouring cidre from a height. This was made even more difficult due to the wind but only a few drops were lost and we all enjoyed a taste. 

We also met a pilgrim last night who has been walking for a year having started in Jerusalem. He is closing in on Santiago but my sense is that he doesn’t want this to be finished. 

Despite a full day of rain on day 2, the weather has been perfect. The forecast is looking good which is important as we are heading into an optional high route that is impassable in bad weather. There are limited services but we have places to stay and the scenery is spectacular. I’m really looking forward to this part. 

You’re doing it wrong and we love you 🥰

 Tomorrow we start the Camino Primativo, 15 days of walking roughly 300 kilometers across the northwest corner of Spain, much of it through the lush mountains of Asturias. 

We arrived early this morning, well before the sun in Madrid. After killing a few hours at Chamartin train station we spent another 3 on a train to Oviedo, head bobbing in and out of sleep. Our agenda in Oviedo was simple, find the Air B&B, grab a bite to eat and pick up our credentials. 

Amy suggested Alterna Sidreria, which was close to our lodging and very popular with the locals. The clock was ticking on the late afternoon kitchen closing of 4:30pm and we didn’t think we had it in us to wait until the reopening at 8pm. We got seated in the family area downstairs. I tried to look around for clues on what to order. One clue was obvious, everyone was drinking cidre and we would too. Attempting to sort through the cellar cidres on the menu was a mistake according to Pablo our server. Those would be too funky for us although I’m not sure how he knew that since we had just met. Pablo recommended cidre normal just like everyone else in the place. Normal it was! Except, there was nothing normal about it. The cidre comes in 70cl corked bottles and only Pablo is allowed to handle them. When not being poured from an extended arm high over Pablo’s head, the bottle rests on the table with a cork halfheartedly reinserted. The glasses are what I call big gulp highball but they only receive 2 fingers of highly aerated cidre. 

Accompanying the cidre was a bountiful tray of local cheeses, meats and fish. The pairing was excellent if not somewhat erratic since we often just had empty glasses awaiting Pablos return and another round of his vertigo inducing refills. 

After the cheese and cured meat course we took the traditional Asturian fabada bean soup. Thankfully it was a soup as the only spaces left in our stomachs were the few nooks and crannies not filled with bread, cheese, jamon, chorizo or cod. To complete the gluttony we share a piece of Asturian Cheesecake washed down with two of the smallest espressos ever dared to be served. As Pablo was taking a smoke break or perhaps doing his taxes we enquired to the table of young families behind us as to the current state of bill paying and the vagaries of spanish wait staff tipping. But of course tips are expected they ensured us. Expected tip percentages ranged between 5 and 10%. Ok, cool. We won’t make fools of ourselves when it comes to the tip, or so we thought. 

By this time Pablo had returned from his sabbatical and it was going on 5pm. Tables were being cleared and reset for the late crowd. The only two tables left were us and the three Spanish women next to us. Pablo brought the check and the portable card reader to the table. Only there was still a problem. There was no place to add a tip to the credit card reader. Abbey picked up on this and asked Pablo directly about the tip. He said, only in cash. The tip cannot be know by the authorities and bean counters! Ok, fine but we don’t have any cash yet except good ole greenbacks carried freshly across the Atlantic. No problemo! Pablo was overjoyed receiving his crisp Andrew Jackson although I don’t think it will ever be spent. He said it was going on his wall with his other collected currency, which according to his account consisted of a bill from Canada. He proudly showed off his tip which struck up a conversation with the ladies next to us. After finding out where we were from and what we were doing here, we received some etiquette recommendations. Cidre is not sipped. It is thrown back like a shot. Cidre is not swirled in the glass. Just one tilt and down the hatch. Don’t order the fabada after the cheese tray. Fabada always come first. Even with all our mistakes and I’m sure all weren’t listed such as the sandwiches to go that we made from our selected meats and table bread which had been wrapped in napkins and smuggled into coat pockets for later, they loved us. They enjoyed dining next to us and they told us how special it was that we were here as a family walking a Camino together. They were so right. A lot had already happened and we haven’t even started. Now for some sleep. 

Randocuisine

 

Randolicious 

Haute cuisine is not typically associated with long distance riding. None of the stars in the All-Star Special at Waffle House or on the Hardee’s sign refer to Michelin. Randonneurs seek fast, inexpensive and voluminous calories. Some long-distance riders can fuel themselves on powdered drinks and gels but I am not one of those. Early on I learned that my engine runs cleanest on real food. During PBP 2003 I had attempted to fuel myself with powdered maltodextrin, and gels but by the end of the day one my gastrointestinal tract had revolted. A rookie experimentation that nearly ended my ride but fortunately I was in France. The food offered at the controls had not been chosen at random. The menu had been cultivated from over 100 years of trial and error. I was grazing at the buffet of Audax savoring the terroir of long miles in the saddle. Slowly I recovered, fueling with mashed potatoes bolognese, riz au lait, pasta and pockets of endless jambon baguettes. I certainly have spent my share of time wandering the aisles of minimarts searching for that perfect flavor of the moment food item that would carry me to the next control. Like many others I have also used fast food restaurants as an efficient source of rando fuel but I’m not here to discuss value menus or happy meals. Let’s take a moment to savor the high gastronomy of Grand Randonnées. I hope you’re hungry. 

 Bonifay Challenge 2006 

 Breakfast was long gone on day one of the Bonifay Challenge. We were 150 miles into the ride crossing from the Florida Panhandle into southern Georgia. Our fuel gauges were reading near empty when an oasis appeared. Michelle’s Restaurant in Georgetown Georgia announced itself with the aroma of fried chicken. Like bloodhounds we followed the scent to a sign that read “daily buffet.” We didn’t need any more information. We just needed plates. Walking the aisles of Michelle’s buffet we were the proverbial kids in a candy store. During my wife Amy’s pregnancies she had unusual cravings. While I could don the pregnancy belt at our Lamaze courses to empathize with the burden of carrying the added weight of a pregnancy, I couldn’t truly understand the cravings until randonneuring. Long miles drain calories and nutrients and those need to be replaced. Michelle was here to help. With heaping plates, we grabbed a table in the outdoor section well away from the other patrons. This feeding frenzy would best be without witness. If there was a theme to my meal, it was yellow. Baked macaroni and cheese, cheesy grits, chicken and dumplings, creamed corn, sweet potato casserole and a corn muffin. As they say in the South, my meal was easy on the gums. No teeth required! Of course, this was washed down with 32 ounces of the sweetest tea this side at the Mason-Dixon line. Some readers will revolt at this plate of good ole Southern cooking but to my stomach this was rocket fuel. 

 LEL 2009 

We would pass through Traquair Scotland twice in relative quick succession at kilometer 680 and then again at 750 after the turnaround. Our initial passing was at the early breakfast hours and I found myself bleary eyed with a bowl of porridge searching for condiments. I was directed to the “condiment” table where I found only Scotch. A kilted man assured me that I was at the correct table but I passed on the suggested wee dram for now. I had my porridge straight up despite hearing about the wonders of the peat filtered Islay on offer. When we returned 4 hours later things were much more festive, and we were awake. The main course for lunch was sheet cake with a side of Scotch. As the saying goes, when in Rome…. I consented to sample the Isaly 10yr and the Glenmorangie. To refuse would have been insulting. The control worker/bartender beamed with pride as he described the notes of flavors that I would be encountering, that is after I finished my second generous serving of birthday cake. It was all washed down with a mini biere d”Or and we headed into the hills and high winds of the borderlands. 

 PBP 2015 Fougeres 

Mention your favorite control at PBP amongst a group of anciens/anciennes and you are well on your way to a spirited debate. I have always favored Villaines La Juhel, particularly for the festive atmosphere on the return but especially for the volunteer children which carry the rider’s trays. In 2015 though Ian Hands made a strong case for Fougeres having the best cuisine. The cafeteria is in a separate building from the control so I had often skipped it. Trust me, a visit to the cafeteria in the lower building is well worth your time. The menu is extensive. Decisions can be difficult for the weary randonneur, particularly with a language barrier. I decided to stick with my tried and true color scheme, this time light yellow. Pasta Carbonara, riz au lait, cold pasta salad, beer and a banana. I felt these nutrients directly entering into my bloodstream somehow bypassing my stomach. Note to self and friends, don’t forget to feed in Fougeres. 

 PBP 2011 Saint Martin des Prés 

Between Loudeac and Saint Nicholas du Pelem there is a small village that goes all out in the celebration of Paris Brest Paris. Saint Martin des Prés should not be missed. Often the route passes through twice although in 2019 it was only visited on the outbound leg. Everyone in town seems to be there. Roadside tents are filled with riders and villagers all seeking their famous Moules Frites. The mussels and fries are both cooked in massive tubs over open flames. Mussels might not seem the safest of in ride foods but they sure are délicieux! They pair well with accordion music and content smiles. Excuse the blurry screen shot of a video of mine from 2011. In 2015 there was a mussel shortage so only frites and sausage were on offer and in 2019 I didn’t study the route closely enough to realize my plan of stopping on the return was flawed. I will be back in 2023 and look forward to the tidal bounty of Saint Martin des Prés, hopefully outbound and inbound. Vive les moules frites! 

 Míle Fáilte 2018 

1200k is a long way to ride so you might as well start with a full Irish. The full Irish breakfast is guaranteed to get you to the first control, unless you are a vegetarian. Vegans and vegetarians may need to supplement. Being omnivorous I absolutely love the full Irish. Rashers (thick Irish bacon) sausage links, fried eggs, beans, black and white pudding, and mushrooms. This will come with coffee/tea, toast and brown bread and probably cereal and it will have you sailing down the road. I try not to experiment with food during an event. If possible I stick with items that have no known conflicts with my digestive tract. US riders may not be familiar with the puddings, particularly the black pudding which is illegal in the US! The puddings are not puddings at all, they are sausages. They have many of the same ingredients as typical sausages with the black pudding containing blood. If you feel a little low on iron, black pudding has you covered. Perhaps we should not further discuss “how the sausage gets made.” 

 Nebraska Sandhills 1000k 2018 

When it comes to hearty breakfasts, the Irish don’t have a monopoly. Day two of the 2018 Nebraska Sandhills 1000k would have riders slogging into a headwind for 90 miles with the only respite at a breakfast stop at the Antelope Creek Café in Gordon Nebraska. I felt like a 777 fueling up for a cross oceanic flight. With sausage patties the size of hamburgers you’d better have two. No, make it three because one comes on your side breakfast sandwich! Eggs, toast, hash browns, two jelly packets, coffee and a coke. Stops can be few and far in between in Nebraska but don’t worry because they really know how to fill up your tank. 

 PBP 2015 Sizun 

Photo - Jenny Oh

Honorable Mention goes to a bakery in Sizun, since it was just one item rather than a meal. It is just off the main court in everyone’s favorite non-control town of PBP. You’ve gotten over the Roc’h Trevezel and it’s always a good time to stop in Sizun. It’s a lively place. Nearly everyone stops. In the Boulangerie/Patisserie just behind the ruins I scored the tastiest item that I have ever encountered on a ride. I was seeking the Breton delicacy the Kouign Amann but they were all out, all out of the individual ones that is. They had a 10” family size version. Oui oui indeed. The name derives from the Breton words for cake (kouign) and butter (amann). It literally is 50% yeasted dough and 50% butter… and 50% caramelized sugar. Don’t ask how they get 150% into this thing, just enjoy. Mademoiselle boxed it up and I took it outside drooling like one of Pavlov’s dogs. My riding buddies asked what plans I had for such a large pastry but I was only speaking in tongues at this point. Tongues dripping with butter and caramelized sugar that is. Once my eyes had rolled back into my head the vultures saw the open door, or box, and swept in for a bite. Oh my was all we could muster until we rolled across the Albert-Louppe Bridge in Brest. Randonneurs love riding their bikes a long way, and many of us also love food. Coincidence, or cause and effect? Whatever your motivation for long distance riding you will require fuel. Figure out what works for you, particularly over 3-4 days. Keep your eyes open and your nose in the air for that lurking rando cuisine. Perhaps your family sized Kouign Amann is out there just around the next corner. Bon Appetit!