March 21, 2018

The Dalles Mt 60, version 4.5

This post is dedicated to BicycleKitty reader Holly, who is a bad ass biking babe and rode the Dalles Mt 60 on a single speed sparkle pony with her team, Dirty Fingers.
The Dalles Mt 60 was originally (dis)organized by Velodirt, but they've fallen off the map.  Quite literally, Velodirt is off adventuring away from the Oregon gravel grid they helped create.  Yet the ride goes on.  Over a hundred riders showed up for an unseasonally sunny day, and took off at 10am to head over the bridge and into Washington.

On the bridge, someone commented "your bike looks like a ferrari", triggering me to make a loud engine growling sound. I was delighted to sport a brand new steed, the Soma Wolverine.  It has the same geometry as the Soma Smoothie ES (Extra Smooth!), but room for 45mm wide tires with fenders, and disc brakes.  Aside from a few commutes, this was the Wolverine's maiden voyage.  
My riding friend started to pedal off and called to me to catch up.  I said no, I need to pace myself.  Personal growth has opened my eyes to the idea that chasing leads to blowing up.  Soon, I was all alone, and the climb hadn't even begun.
Up, up, up the hill I rode.  I rode with Brock of the Sprocket Podcast and Eric of Grilled by Bike fame.  Brock warned me that he was recording every conversation and asked for my permission to broadcast whatever I said.  I told him in no uncertain terms he has lifelong permission to broadcast anything he'd like.  After a while, they were ready for a rest stop.  I continued on, occasionally passing a rider, but mostly alone.  The views were gorgeous, the temperature a pleasant 50 degrees, with just a gentle little wisp of wind. 
The road surface was like a dream.  Like chocolate-flavored talcum powder pressed into a perfect riding surface.  Or maybe that's the Panaracer Gravel King tires talking.  I was surprised to see my odometer read 20mph on the gravel descent; this is unusual for the Bicycle Chicken Kitty.

I missed the Maryhill Loops, although I heard later that others enjoyed them.  I kept remembering the year that two gentlemen, or at least men, sat in the back of their pick up truck brandishing shotguns and warning riders to stay away.  I stayed away.
 
Soon enough I was in Biggs and enjoying french fries and a soda along with much of the Dirty Fingers team.  I was excited to find my own teammates there as well, and we rode out together into what should've been seven miles of headwind.  Instead, it was seven miles of tailwind.  It felt like cheating.
 
We turned onto Old Moody.  I have an emotional connection with this road, the first gravel road I ever rode.  Or walked anyway.  This year, I rode it in its entirety and never dismounted to walk.  I rode alongside some jogging cows and enjoyed the continuing tailwind, the sweet road surface and the sweeping views.
 
At the end of Old Moody, where it meets the pavement, the Dirty Fingers Team was regrouping.  I said hello and one of them said "I have to ask you, our teammate wanted to know - are you Bicycle Kitty?  She wants your autograph."  Well, this made my day.  My week, really.  I said yes and introduced myself and shook hands with the nice lady who said she loves the BicycleKitty blog and reads religiously.

The Wolverine surprised me again.  It was swift and reliable, and I railed the rest of the ride back to the Dalles.  As a cherry on the cake of an amazing day, I slept in a snow cave on the side of Mt Hood at a slumber party called the Cave Rave.  Cinnamon whiskey kept the chill away, the cold kept cramps at bay, and the miles helped sleep come easy. 

March 12, 2018

Thursday Night Ride - Grrrrrls Up Front edition

There had been some rumblings on the internet about the Thursday Night Ride (TNR) being dominated by men, to the point of excluding the women.  I've never felt harassed or excluded on this ride, but it's important not to discount what my sisters are saying. It's tricky when these complaints and comments come over any sort of online forum.  Some people express themselves more angrily and awkwardly in these forums than in person, and it seems to escalate an issue instead of resolve it.

I put these thoughts in my pipe and smoked them up and came up with an idea.  I put out a shout out:

Hey ladies!!! Gals, chicks, dudettes & sprockettes, young women, old, femmes, all sizes shapes colors and rainbows, let’s party at TNR. (7pm Salmon Street Fountain).  Of course our dude pals will be there too! A cool co-ed co-operative taking of the streets (politely but firmly) on our bikes. With loud music.

Minutes later, I received an invitation to lead from T.J., who usually leads and organizes the ride.  And so, I had my second opportunity to lead this critical-mass styled party ride, along with the fun of shouting "GIRLS UP FRONT" throughout the evening. To T.J.'s credit, he had purchased firewood and dropped it off at our campfire location, and he was super helpful and positive all night.
I routed us past several lady-centric sculptures and fountains.  It was a chilly but dry evening and the 15 mile route felt just right.  My odometer often showed a speed of 7 miles per hour, and we regrouped half a dozen times during that short distance.  After all, it's supposed to be a group ride and friendly to even the slowest of riders.  My hope was that this pace, along with the on-line map I provided in advance, would help prevent anyone from feeling dropped.

There was one crash.  A man in our group hit the temporary construction barrier on the Burnside bridge and went down.  We waited on the other side of the bridge and I wondered what to do.  Rider after rider would come up to me, breathless and panicked, to tell me urgently "SOMEBODY CRASHED!!!".  While I stood there, distracted and deliberating, a tall athletic lady on a fixed gear rode up and calmly offered to circle back and check out the scene.  I wanted to kiss her, but held back.  When she returned, she said there was nobody around and no ambulance either, so we continued ahead.

Many times throughout the evening, a rider (always a man) would come up to me at the front and reprimand me for something.  One guy told me I had ditched a bunch of people at Velocult.  We'd taken a super short stop there, while I sneakily snuck in to drink a quickie pint.  I had announced both indoors and out, at least five times, in a very loud voice, that we were leaving.  He continued to whine at me, so I gave him an assignment to go back and round up any laggers.

At our store stop, a man in a delivery truck backed up to unload, and started tossing his dolly and equipment onto the pavement near where I stood, and near our bikes.  He had a giant lift gate that he was lowering, with his back turned and earbuds in.  I asked that he be extra careful, as I saw an opportunity for injury.  He said we were just a drunk bike ride and if anyone got hurt, we deserved it.  I expect this sort of treatment from men, but what I didn't expect was for a woman in our group to defend his behavior.  Part of being a feminist, at least to me, is to back up other women when they're standing up for themselves.
  
Grant Park was closed for construction, which threw me off, as that was our rest room rest stop.  I entered the park where I could, which took us on the new running track, which we are apparently not supposed to ride bikes on.  I managed to talk riders out of doing laps and instead pull off to a grassy area on the side to hang out.  While we were there, one poor dude with a flat tire made his repair while many of us watched and critiqued.

We continued on, and I made many loud warnings about curbs and bollards and crappy pavement, which usually ended up with me shouting "NO CRASHING PLEASE!".  It seemed to work as no one else crashed all night, although I came close to crashing myself as I clumsily attempted to get on the sidewalk of the Sellwood bridge and smacked my front wheel into a curb.  Amazingly I didn't fall and didn't even get a pinch flat.

The best and worst part of the night was on the beginning of the southbound portion of the Springwater trail, where it parallels the Willamette River.  It's a 5 mile straightaway with no turn-offs and I'd been itchin to get a little exercise all evening, so I announced that I'd wait at the turn and took off.  Some riders kept up with me, others fell off the back.  

One man caught me and yelled at me "THIS IS A NO DROP RIDE, SLOW DOWN".  I apologized and hit the brakes.  I felt my soul shrinking and shrieking.  I simply couldn't do it.  So I reversed my position and said "No, I take it back, I'm not sorry.  I'm going fast, catch me if you can!".

My original intent of leading this ride was to expose that misogyny wasn't happening.  Sadly, the constant instruction and criticism I received during and after the ride alerted me that my initial thought was in error.  So, instead we have an opportunity to overcome this challenge.

There are definitely lots of great guys and supportive male riders on this ride, but there are also a lot of bossypants riders that I hope can grow into the role needed from the men on this ride.  I feel it is absolutely vital for women to show up to this ride, or any ride or event, where there might be misogyny.  It might be hard, but it's the only way we can overcome it.  It gives me great hope that so many riders came to my defense during and after the ride, and someone even made a meme for me!