At 5:30 am on March 21, 2007, our son Tom’s eyes popped open, he looked at the clock, and climbed out of bed to begin preparations for the 600-kilometer (386 miles) ride that he was to begin that morning. Alayne, his wife, arose early to help Tom with his preparations and to drive him from their home in the Sunset District of San Francisco to the starting/finishing point of the ride, the Golden Gate Bridge. Dark clouds filled the sky and a wind had begun to blow.
In the preceding month, Tom had completed his 300-kilometer ride at this same location. Much of that ride had been in the pouring rain, with high winds up to 40 mph that blew rain into his eyes and soaked his clothes. Tom thought to himself, “I’ve had lots of good experience riding in this kind of weather, and here I go again.” For myself, as his mother, I had great fear and trepidation about this ride; the dangers of the rain and dark, compounded by fatigue, loomed large in my mind.
Tom had packed extra clothing; spare bicycle tubes, a pump and patch kit; and nourishment for the long ride ahead. He was well prepared for night riding with two light fixtures on the seat stays, each with five bright lights, another on his fender and yet another on his helmet. The front of the bike had two very bright Schmidt E6 lights, which provide nearly as much light as car headlights for his bicycle. In addition to the multiple light systems, Tom wore a reflective sash and reflective ankle bands.
Tom’s Rivendell custom-made steel bicycle is not lightweight as those favored by many of his co-riders. The advantage of the heavier weight was that he was less likely to fall over in high winds and to damage the bike if he did fall; the disadvantage was that he had to pedal a lot harder, especially on the steep hills, to accomplish his riding goal.
By 8:00 am all the twenty riders had finished registering and started riding across the Golden Gate Bridge. The route led them north up Highway One to Fort Bragg and then back. The riders had forty hours to complete the ride. It was a basically unsupported ride, meaning that no one from the club (except for their fellow riders) would be along the route to assist them with any problems. Self-sufficiency is a necessity for randonneuring. There are several timed checkpoints on both legs of the ride. In order to complete the event successfully, the riders must stop at each of the checkpoints (various service stations, grocery markets, and other shopping areas) by a designated hour and obtain timed-receipts by purchasing something.
Aside from nourishment and potty stops along the route, there would be no rest for Tom in the ensuing forty hours. Alayne and I called Tom at frequent intervals and left messages of encouragement on his cell phone that he could review when he stopped for a snack. When Tom called one of us back, we would each call the other with his updated information; we knew we were both apprehensive and wanted to hear that all was going well and that he was having no unusual difficulties.
The rain began falling early in the ride, and the wind began to pick up, especially as he rode along Highway 1. As the wind pelted Tom’s face with rain, he could no longer see through his blurred lenses and he finally removed his glasses. (These are the little details of these long rides that make a mother apprehensive.) Tom rode on. At times he rode with other club members; but often he rode alone, not wanting to slow down those on faster bicycles. Both Alayne and I often wish he had a constant riding companion, both for company and for safety. For many lonely hours, Tom rode up and down hills, attempting to avoid potholes and other road hazards, as well as watching for other vehicles sharing the road.
During the first day, one of his biking companions had to drop out because of a tire blowout; he had no spare. Another quit the ride when his bicycle frame bent after falling into a ditch. After the first twenty-four hours, a couple of the riders dropped out from the sheer fatigue of riding against the high winds and blasting rain. In the early dark hours of the morning, Tom got a flat tire. He was prepared for this emergency; using his skill and experience, Tom changed the flat in the dark and rain in less than five minutes.
Tom’s spirits rose on Day Two when the sun came out intermittently and the wind died down a little. He had completed his turn around and was headed back home. By 8:00 pm, thirty-six hours into his ride, he was feeling confident. He estimated that by riding at a relatively comfortable pace of about 10 mph, he would make it to the finish no later than 12:30 am, with a half hour to spare. He thought that once he got to the Marin towns, he would be home free. He was wrong.
To be continued
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