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aprilstarchildSaturday: We ended up going to Champoeg State Park. Also, there was originally something like 20 people intending to go, and we had seven total, of which I was the only lady. Most of the people on the ride I knew from other stuff in Portland, although we had a new guy, an older dude, who'd come on the ride without knowing any of us! He'd heard of the ride through the website and emails for Cycle Wild.
It poured rain off and on. I'm really glad Lauren loaned me her rain pants. It wasn't cold and I stayed mostly dry, although sweating in rain gear means you're a bit damp anyway.
I had a rear flat fairly early on. Learned that my rear wheel only takes Presta valves, and my spare tube was a Schraeder. I owe a guy an inner tube. It ended up being a Flat Repair By Committee, as I hardly did any of it. Which was fine with me, because while I do know how to fix a flat, I'm kinda slow at it. It also turns out that my current tires on the Miyata have a maximum psi of 65, which is pretty damn low. Yet another reason to get around to swapping out the tires, as the mixte has Panaracer Paselas that take a higher air pressure. Although I dunno, the Miyata's tires gave a pretty smooth ride. Hm. I would like something more flat-resistant. Maybe some Schwalbe Marathon tires, I know plenty of people who tour on them. Dunno if they come in 27 inch though.
I had a crash. We mostly took rural roads (less traffic!) and one of them had a bridge in the middle of being replaced. The temporary bridge was one lane wide and made of extremely uneven wood laid longways--and did I mention it had been raining hard for hours? I didn't notice it was wood until I was about twenty feet away, and four people had already crossed. It was too late to slow down much, but I wasn't going super-fast. "Just don't brake or pedal," I tell myself, hoping to carefully and gently coast across. Well, the guy in front of me, Lance, was going faster than me, and didn't realize how uneven the wood was; and suddenly he lost control of his bike. He fell in front of me, and his bike kept going; it stopped a good twenty to thirty feet away. I reflexively hit the brakes to try and avoid hitting Lance or his bike, and my bike slid out from under me. I fell on my right side, and I felt the right back of my helmet hit the bridge, and I remember just hoping my glasses didn't come off or break. I heard Lance kinda moaning and laughing and saying, "Ooooh my ass..." as apparently his rear end took most of the fall.
Once we got ourselves and bikes off the bridge we checked ourselves and our bikes. We both felt our helmets hit the bridge but not very hard. He had a splinter in his jacket and I think something minor bent. I have a tiny hole in the rain pants from them catching on a front chainring and felt achy. I seem to have fallen almost completely flat on my right side, as most of it is a little sore but the bruises aren't large or dark. The left of my neck is achy, I assume from my head hitting the ground. I have minor bruises/achiness on my right calf, hip, wrist, elbow, and shoulder. That's all. Nothing on my bike was bent, the pannier cover didn't rip or abrade. As bike accidents go, it wasn't bad at all. I seem to have fallen the way you're supposed to try and fall, spreading the impact out on more of your body. I do probably need a new helmet.
We stopped for lunch at a winery near Newburg. Pasta salad with tofu (brought with me from People's) has never tasted so damn good. It had stopped raining, so we sat on the back porch with a beautiful view of rolling hills of grapevines and split a bottle of wine six ways (one guy was too young to drink). They gave us those HUGE wine glasses to drink from, and I couldn't help but think of the movie Sideways. The wine was good, and we each had just enough to enjoy it and put smiles on our faces after almost thirty miles of riding.
The hiker/biker site at Champoeg is fairly nice, with lots of trees and some picnic tables and wild fruit trees, although the water spigot doesn't work, meaning you had to walk a bit for water. It butts up against private land with a view of alpacas! Matt snores and his tent was near mine, so I had to use earplugs. Oh well.
Sunday! I had brought some instant coffee, but I never got a chance to use it, as several people had brought nice coffee and presses. I was the only vegetarian/vegan though, and had to smell people making bacon etc. Yech.
The rain on Sunday was intermittent if heavy, and switched off with patches of full sun. We mostly avoided the really hard showers by being in the museum or the store/restaurant in Butteville (which had NOTHING I could eat other than beer and packaged snack foods, and both were very expensive). The museum was pretty awesome, with information about the original town that had been near the river and was wiped out completely by a huge flood in 1861. There was an old barn and a recreated kitchen garden. As we were leaving, I saw Jarrod and his girlfriend, who were visiting for the day. Talked to them for an awkward couple of minutes as we were leaving the museum. I went back later that day and bought a green calico bonnet. It's silly and awesome and, we discovered, fits over my bicycle helmet without blocking my peripheral vision. I'm set for next year's Bunny on a Bike Ride. Paul took a ton of pictures, when he puts some up on flickr I'll probably post a couple. I can see why Laura from the Little House books was loathe to wear hers all the time though. I mean, it keeps the sun (and rain!) out of your eyes, but it also blocks your side vision.
Later that day a few of us visited the original townsite, the old streets are marked with little cement pillars carved with the street names. It's weird to stand on a blank field and think about a bustling little town of several hundred people being there 150 years ago. We figured out where the hotel and general store had been and looked at the river. The bank is a good thirty feet above the water (at least when we were there), I can see why people would think it was a safe place to build a town.
That night, me and Matt stayed up until almost 1:30am talking and talking near the campfire. The six-pack of beer and bottle of wine between us probably helped, hah.
Monday! We took a different route back. It didn't rain much. We got to ride the Canby ferry by ourselves. We went through Oregon City and Gladstone and then I took the Springwater back towards my house. I was alone by the time I got on Springwater, and it was crowded with pedestrians, recreational riders, and the occasional roadie. One guy who looked like a young Sheldon Brown who was going in the opposite direction, gave me the "hang loose" hand motion and said "Yes!" at me as I went by, and an older woman roadie rode next to me for a few minutes asking about where I'd gone and stuff. She was awesome, I told her about Cycle Wild. She also said it was obvious I was coming back. Dunno what gave it away--my tired expression? The rain covers on my panniers when it hadn't rained for hours?
Worst aftermath of that stupid accident: Being close to panic whenever I go downhill. I have always been slow going downhill. I'm a fraidy-cat who hates going fast and fears losing control while on wheels, which is why I suck so bad at roller skating and never tried riding a skateboard. Recently I'd been getting better about it, not riding my brakes as much on downhill sections, especially if I could see the entire downhill section ahead of me. I know parts of why I get scared: my balance has never been very good; when I go downhill quickly, the vibration makes my glasses jiggle, which can make it hard to see. Things like that.
Losing control of my bike on Saturday has put me back to less than square one. Every downhill section, especially if it's steep or I can't see the bottom, has me quaking in fear and riding my brakes so hard I'm almost stopped (thank god I have those kool-stop brake pads, I won't overheat my rims). I cannot seem to get the image out of my head of myself going fast, trying to stop, and losing control and crashing. I even walked down several hills Monday, which was really embarrassing. Every time I found out a long downhill section was coming up, my hands started shaking.
The worst part is knowing that, especially if the road is wet, I'm more likely to lose traction if I brake too hard. And I know that my front brake is usually safer than my back brakes (relying on your back brakes = possibility of skidding).
Someone recommended that the best way to get over my fears was to confront them completely head-on and just go Zoobombing, but I'm not sure that would help.
I think I'm going to deal with it the same way I always have: always try to go a little faster than I'd like to, and ride my brakes a little less than I'd prefer. Just a slow progression of pushing myself a little more each time. What do you guys think?
It poured rain off and on. I'm really glad Lauren loaned me her rain pants. It wasn't cold and I stayed mostly dry, although sweating in rain gear means you're a bit damp anyway.
I had a rear flat fairly early on. Learned that my rear wheel only takes Presta valves, and my spare tube was a Schraeder. I owe a guy an inner tube. It ended up being a Flat Repair By Committee, as I hardly did any of it. Which was fine with me, because while I do know how to fix a flat, I'm kinda slow at it. It also turns out that my current tires on the Miyata have a maximum psi of 65, which is pretty damn low. Yet another reason to get around to swapping out the tires, as the mixte has Panaracer Paselas that take a higher air pressure. Although I dunno, the Miyata's tires gave a pretty smooth ride. Hm. I would like something more flat-resistant. Maybe some Schwalbe Marathon tires, I know plenty of people who tour on them. Dunno if they come in 27 inch though.
I had a crash. We mostly took rural roads (less traffic!) and one of them had a bridge in the middle of being replaced. The temporary bridge was one lane wide and made of extremely uneven wood laid longways--and did I mention it had been raining hard for hours? I didn't notice it was wood until I was about twenty feet away, and four people had already crossed. It was too late to slow down much, but I wasn't going super-fast. "Just don't brake or pedal," I tell myself, hoping to carefully and gently coast across. Well, the guy in front of me, Lance, was going faster than me, and didn't realize how uneven the wood was; and suddenly he lost control of his bike. He fell in front of me, and his bike kept going; it stopped a good twenty to thirty feet away. I reflexively hit the brakes to try and avoid hitting Lance or his bike, and my bike slid out from under me. I fell on my right side, and I felt the right back of my helmet hit the bridge, and I remember just hoping my glasses didn't come off or break. I heard Lance kinda moaning and laughing and saying, "Ooooh my ass..." as apparently his rear end took most of the fall.
Once we got ourselves and bikes off the bridge we checked ourselves and our bikes. We both felt our helmets hit the bridge but not very hard. He had a splinter in his jacket and I think something minor bent. I have a tiny hole in the rain pants from them catching on a front chainring and felt achy. I seem to have fallen almost completely flat on my right side, as most of it is a little sore but the bruises aren't large or dark. The left of my neck is achy, I assume from my head hitting the ground. I have minor bruises/achiness on my right calf, hip, wrist, elbow, and shoulder. That's all. Nothing on my bike was bent, the pannier cover didn't rip or abrade. As bike accidents go, it wasn't bad at all. I seem to have fallen the way you're supposed to try and fall, spreading the impact out on more of your body. I do probably need a new helmet.
We stopped for lunch at a winery near Newburg. Pasta salad with tofu (brought with me from People's) has never tasted so damn good. It had stopped raining, so we sat on the back porch with a beautiful view of rolling hills of grapevines and split a bottle of wine six ways (one guy was too young to drink). They gave us those HUGE wine glasses to drink from, and I couldn't help but think of the movie Sideways. The wine was good, and we each had just enough to enjoy it and put smiles on our faces after almost thirty miles of riding.
The hiker/biker site at Champoeg is fairly nice, with lots of trees and some picnic tables and wild fruit trees, although the water spigot doesn't work, meaning you had to walk a bit for water. It butts up against private land with a view of alpacas! Matt snores and his tent was near mine, so I had to use earplugs. Oh well.
Sunday! I had brought some instant coffee, but I never got a chance to use it, as several people had brought nice coffee and presses. I was the only vegetarian/vegan though, and had to smell people making bacon etc. Yech.
The rain on Sunday was intermittent if heavy, and switched off with patches of full sun. We mostly avoided the really hard showers by being in the museum or the store/restaurant in Butteville (which had NOTHING I could eat other than beer and packaged snack foods, and both were very expensive). The museum was pretty awesome, with information about the original town that had been near the river and was wiped out completely by a huge flood in 1861. There was an old barn and a recreated kitchen garden. As we were leaving, I saw Jarrod and his girlfriend, who were visiting for the day. Talked to them for an awkward couple of minutes as we were leaving the museum. I went back later that day and bought a green calico bonnet. It's silly and awesome and, we discovered, fits over my bicycle helmet without blocking my peripheral vision. I'm set for next year's Bunny on a Bike Ride. Paul took a ton of pictures, when he puts some up on flickr I'll probably post a couple. I can see why Laura from the Little House books was loathe to wear hers all the time though. I mean, it keeps the sun (and rain!) out of your eyes, but it also blocks your side vision.
Later that day a few of us visited the original townsite, the old streets are marked with little cement pillars carved with the street names. It's weird to stand on a blank field and think about a bustling little town of several hundred people being there 150 years ago. We figured out where the hotel and general store had been and looked at the river. The bank is a good thirty feet above the water (at least when we were there), I can see why people would think it was a safe place to build a town.
That night, me and Matt stayed up until almost 1:30am talking and talking near the campfire. The six-pack of beer and bottle of wine between us probably helped, hah.
Monday! We took a different route back. It didn't rain much. We got to ride the Canby ferry by ourselves. We went through Oregon City and Gladstone and then I took the Springwater back towards my house. I was alone by the time I got on Springwater, and it was crowded with pedestrians, recreational riders, and the occasional roadie. One guy who looked like a young Sheldon Brown who was going in the opposite direction, gave me the "hang loose" hand motion and said "Yes!" at me as I went by, and an older woman roadie rode next to me for a few minutes asking about where I'd gone and stuff. She was awesome, I told her about Cycle Wild. She also said it was obvious I was coming back. Dunno what gave it away--my tired expression? The rain covers on my panniers when it hadn't rained for hours?
Worst aftermath of that stupid accident: Being close to panic whenever I go downhill. I have always been slow going downhill. I'm a fraidy-cat who hates going fast and fears losing control while on wheels, which is why I suck so bad at roller skating and never tried riding a skateboard. Recently I'd been getting better about it, not riding my brakes as much on downhill sections, especially if I could see the entire downhill section ahead of me. I know parts of why I get scared: my balance has never been very good; when I go downhill quickly, the vibration makes my glasses jiggle, which can make it hard to see. Things like that.
Losing control of my bike on Saturday has put me back to less than square one. Every downhill section, especially if it's steep or I can't see the bottom, has me quaking in fear and riding my brakes so hard I'm almost stopped (thank god I have those kool-stop brake pads, I won't overheat my rims). I cannot seem to get the image out of my head of myself going fast, trying to stop, and losing control and crashing. I even walked down several hills Monday, which was really embarrassing. Every time I found out a long downhill section was coming up, my hands started shaking.
The worst part is knowing that, especially if the road is wet, I'm more likely to lose traction if I brake too hard. And I know that my front brake is usually safer than my back brakes (relying on your back brakes = possibility of skidding).
Someone recommended that the best way to get over my fears was to confront them completely head-on and just go Zoobombing, but I'm not sure that would help.
I think I'm going to deal with it the same way I always have: always try to go a little faster than I'd like to, and ride my brakes a little less than I'd prefer. Just a slow progression of pushing myself a little more each time. What do you guys think?
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no subject
Date: 2009-09-09 12:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-09 12:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-09 01:56 am (UTC)And I always use just my back brakes. I know this is a bad habit that I have tried to break and failed. But I don't ride them, and I make sure they are always perfectly adjusted, and I never skid because I never go fast.
I think you just need to get very confident of your braking ability. Stop riding them, practice alternating left and right so you always have the feel of both in case one fails. And learn to adjust and check them yourself.
no subject
Date: 2009-09-11 03:44 am (UTC)PICTURE of BONNET!!??
"He likes the bonnet!!"
no subject
Date: 2009-09-12 02:03 am (UTC)Man, I haven't seen that movie in years. I should rent it.
I'm waiting for a guy who was on the ride to upload his pictures to flickr! I'll post or link to them when they're up.