Petal Pedal 2018

covered bridge from the outside

covered bridge from the inside!

When I first moved to Oregon, I thought the Century Farm was one giant conglomeration of farms dominating the countryside of the rural Willamette Valley.  I learned later that's just what they call farms that have been in business for a hundred years.  Anyway, rode sweep for a century ride Saturday and passed a lot of Century farms.

Sweeping a century, or hanging out toward the back to ensure all riders are doing fine, reminds me of a short story by Stephen King, where time rushes up behind the present to swallow everyone and everything.  That's what sweeping feels like to me.  As I arrived at each (bountiful!) rest stop, they were dismantling the tent, parsing out left over food and getting ready to go home.

The century I rode is called the Petal Pedal, and it took us through the stunning countryside all around Silverton and Silver Falls.  I gasped and wowed as we passed field after field of lavender, searing orange blooms, soft pink patches, pale green mystery blossoms, pear trees, apple trees, orchards of all sorts - all with scents to delight.  We saw raspberries, strawberries, hops on strings, and a giant daisy patch (which I got to pass twice!).  Neatly planted rows of crops dazzled with their orderliness. 

photo credit: Sarah (fog credit: Sarah's sweaty back pocket)

It was mostly cloudy all day, and the climbing didn't feel like climbing at all.  I rode with two of the Swift Summit 200 finishers from last year, and knew the race director would be proud of the community of riders he connected.  We swapped tales of our Swift strategies and I learned that last year Sarah taped a cheat sheet to her top tube with a detailed list of the tops of hills.  Chris shared that he was determined to scratch but the nice people at the control simply wouldn't let him.

I lost them in the afternoon after stopping at a farm stand.  I grew up on a strawberry farm and eating a whole pint of freshly picked strawberries took me right back.  I had an opportunity to chat with the farmer, who told me Oregon is known for its strawberries.  My fingers red and sticky, I continued on.

cemetery rest stop

Two dudes wearing teal were ahead of me, and it looked like they were lying down on the tarmac.  The sun and the miles can play tricks on your eyes, but as I got closer, I could see that they were scrambling up and out of the road.  I pulled up next to them and asked if they were ok.  They were both shaken up and one had a bleeding finger.  An oncoming vehicle was being passed and the passer hadn't seen the cyclists.  The front cyclist slammed his brakes on and the back cyclist hit him.

We ate some berries together, discussing different ways fingers can get dyed red, when the passing driver who caused the crash pulled up.  She was extremely apologetic and concerned that the riders and their bikes were okay.  It was nice to witness some humane treatment from a motor vehicle operator instead of the hateful harassment we are often faced with as vulnerable road users.

I hung back with the two teal guys and played my music loudly, alternating between riding fast and slow.  Some call those intervals, others call me a yo-yo.  Whatever it is, I like it.  I arrived at the finish line just in time to drink one of the last beers and enjoy prime rib with all the trimmings.  Everything was delicious and that's not just the miles talking.  In addition to the finish line feast, each rest stop offered a thoughtful variety of snacks, one with a full lunch of chicken sliders, cole slaw, chips and pasta salad. 

we're not in Portland anymore

The Oregon Garden is likely the very best venue for anything in the whole state of Oregon.  The grounds, the resort, the big festive hall where riders ate breakfast and pinned on bibs and returned to celebrate after finishing - all if it was sumptuous and welcoming.  It was an amazing event with top notch support, beautiful countryside and a fun gang of riders.