My husband’s desire to celebrate his 60th birthday with a memorable experience marked the unofficial start of his “almost epic” Seattle to Portland (STP) bike ride adventure. The STP bicycle classic is a yearly event in July that challenges bicyclists to ride 205 miles over bike paths, along rural backroads, and through stop-and-go city traffic. Fit, experienced bicyclists complete the course in one day, but the majority of riders need two. Come along with me through this two-part article, and you’ll discover why even experienced riders deemed the 2018 STP to be the most challenging year to date. (When finished with this article, click on the link at the end to read PART TWO of our Almost Epic adventure.)
Preparation
Dan had biked in his youth, but never over 100 miles, and never in a pack of more than a few friends. He was realistic about his limitations and set about correcting his deficits in the five months before the event. The first item on the program was training. But training on what and where? Over the five months, he planned to take longer and longer rides, preferably using the bike he’d ride in the event, and ideally on the anticipated route.
The bike: Before entering the STP, Dan felt a pang of nostalgia and decided to relive his southern California high-school days by taking up cycling again. He longed for the ride of his youth on his Swiss Cilo steel frame road bike. A new bike was not an option worth entertaining. Only a vintage frame would give him that classic ride, so he bought a 1985 Masi criterium racing bike handmade in Italy. We picked it up in dry Pasadena, tucked it into the back of our wagon, and drove it to our home in wet Olympia. It was in stellar shape, oh so pretty, and needed little modification. He added new pedals to fit his lace-up “old school” shoes; and after a custom fitting by chiropractor Andy Rossier, he determined that a shorter stem would allow a more upright angle for his back. We put the new stem on our to-do list.
Click on the link below to see a short video.
The training: The bike rides of Dan’s youth were warm, dry, and year-round, on eucalyptus-lined backroads that cut through southern California’s vineyards and orange groves. Winter training in the Pacific Northwest is a cold, wet, dark proposition, especially for those who work during our slim bit of daylight hours. Undaunted, Dan carted his Masi outside and rode for 40 miles. The next day, daunted, he hit the gym! Like a fresh recruit in boot camp, eager to test his metal, Dan subjected himself to spinning classes three days a week, and further extending each workout session by two to three hours. His merciless drill instructors, Lorraine Clarke and Joanna Sather, provided unrelenting motivation.
Dan continued spinning without missing a stroke, while his bike rested in his office, prominently displayed where he could admire it. When the weather improved, he took his Masi out for a spin, around the block. The bike felt good, even without the shorter stem. Back inside, he placed it against the wall, and there it leaned for the remainder of his training.
At this point, you might be thinking that Dan was either overly optimistic or in deep denial (or both) about his lack of road training. But my determined husband had a plan: if he couldn’t physically ride on the streets, he could at least look at them ahead of the event! And to be well prepared, he could survey the route—start to finish!
Route Reconnaissance: The official route was published along with a recommendation to use a GPS tracking system, for an extra fee. We wondered, why waste money when we had the STP sanctioned paper map with route, distances, and directional indicators, which we could access during satellite and cell tower failures!
Before we continue, here’s some background on Dan: Instead of riding bikes in the decades between his twenties and fifties, he was busy climbing El Capitan and plenty of other big rock walls. In the days, months, and years leading up to a climb, he would scope out the approach to the intended route, every foot and handhold of the route, and where to suspend his bivy so he could get a good night’s sleep while dangling hundreds of feet above the valley floor. He likes planning ahead, and he’s not fool-hearty concerning endurance sports. In Dan’s perfect world, he intended to drive the route with plenty of time to scope out the road surfaces, and the nuances of each turn and juncture. But he hadn’t counted on his plan being derailed by significant obligations and a lingering cold.
Four days before the event, still sniffling and coughing, a window of time opened up. At 3:00 in the afternoon, Dan announced, “Let’s drive the route from Seattle to Portland!”
With map in hand, we bolted north on the freeway, optimistic that we’d begin our reconnaissance at the University of Washington by 4:30 p.m. That would give us five hours of daylight, in which to survey 205 miles of road. No problem! Seattle traffic—big problem!
One hour and thirty miles later, I said, “If we turn around now, we’ll have time to check out the bottom half of the route.”
“Good plan,” he replied. “I’m familiar with the streets in the Seattle area, but I really want to see the condition of the Yelm bike path and that bridge between Washington and Oregon. If the expansion joints are big, they could bend the rims, and I’ll need to walk the bike over it.”
We set our sights on Roy, just south of the JBLM military area, and from there we managed to scope out the trickiest and most unfamiliar sections of the course. When I say “managed to scope out” I mean we identified the erroneous directions on the printed STP map and figured out what they probably intended to publish. But we can’t be critical since the STP is a small operation of well-meaning folks who strongly suggested we buy the GPS.
We arrived at the Longview bridge at sunset, feeling decidedly accomplished with our partial reconnaissance of the route, as well as the lovely small towns and countryside. Along the way, we found the World’s Largest Egg in Winlock; and after crossing the bridge, we ate dinner overlooking the Mighty Columbia River, at the Cornerstone Café in Rainier, Oregon, where Dan said, “The expansion joints are too big. I’m going to walk the bike across the bridge, but I’ll need my running shoes.”
We didn’t want to ruin those precious Masi rims, so we made a plan: I’d drive ahead, wait for him at the approach to the bridge, give him the shoes, drive across, wait for him to cross, then retrieve the shoes.
We finished our meal, headed home, and discussed whether to buy the GPS with the pre-loaded route. He figured the event coordinators would mark the turns and fellow riders in the distance would indicate the way. He decided to rely solely upon his cell phone in the event he became lost. Because neither of us had experience with the STP, we had no way to gauge the possible hazards. Dan wasn’t worried. Any lack of confidence concerning the route, was negated by his passion for adventure.
I, however, was apprehensive. As Dan’s ground support, I imagined him wandering in the dark, headlight battery drained, punctured tire, and out of water. In my nightmare, I drive in desperation, over road-kill littered backroads, and after midnight, I find him in a febrile stupor. We run out of gas, stumble through the dark to a farmhouse, only to discover that on the other side of the door is a scene from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Having no desire for that type of adventure, along with anticipating the possibility that Dan’s phone could lose cell connection, I devised a plan. I took photographs of an online satellite map that included the STP route superimposed on the greater area, and I loaded the pictures onto his phone. As long as his phone had battery life, he’d have pictures. Overkill? At the time, I wasn’t sure, but I found joy in helping him prepare for the unknown. Dan wasn’t sure either, but the photographs didn’t weigh a single microgram, so he went along with my contribution.
Overkill? We’ll find out soon enough!
The night before the STP, we reported to the University of Washington’s McMahon Hall dormitory and located our room for the night. Sleeping in a dorm room would be fun, we thought, especially since we had met post-college and I had not lived on campus. We switched on the one working light, found two single mattresses placed head to head in a stuffy room, opened the only vent to the outside, and organized his supplies. We had stocked up on power bars and electrolytes for his water. Acquiring ideal clothing was at the bottom of the to-do list, below the shortened stem, which we never ordered.
Dan was still sick but looking forward to a good night’s sleep in the crisp, night air. He had set his sights on celebrating his 60th year with a memorable experience, and that meant a wholehearted attempt at the STP, even if uncontrollable circumstances ultimately prevented him from finishing the ride. Dan shut the vent, which dampened the mechanical noises coming from outside of our room; and he said, “Is it just me, or is the outside air warmer than the room?”
He tried to fall asleep on a noisy, plastic-coated mattress with a thin top sheet; and I reviewed the official pamphlet intended for family and friends. For the safety and enjoyment of all those involved, the STP discourages driving along the bike route. Instead, they recommended using an app, which I hadn’t obtained, to track your rider. And even though the event offered excellent ground support for the participants, Dan preferred that I meet him at predetermined locations, so he could switch clothes and replenish supplies—at least until he had a feel for the bike and his stamina.
In a scant three hours, we would embark on our first STP. We were ready! Did I mention that the temperature outside was warm? See Part Two (link below) to discover how warm.
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BELOW are additional pictures, informative links, and a short-cut to PART TWO of our Almost Epic adventure 2018 STP ride!
Following are PICTURES and LINKS that I thought you’d enjoy.
Cascade Bicycle Club
All the information you’ll need about the STP
https://cascade.org/rides-and-events-kaiser-permanente-stp-presented-alaska-airlines/stp-ride-details
https://www.facebook.com/search/top/?q=cascade%20bicycle%20club&epa=SEARCH_BOX
This club promotes bicycling in the South Puget Sound area
http://www.capitalbicycleclub.org/wp/
Dr. Andy Rosser – a chiropractor in Olympia who fits your bike to your body
https://rosserchiro.com/
https://www.facebook.com/rosserchiro/
https://www.instagram.com/rosserchiro/
Thurston County Bicycle Commuter Challenge
https://rosserchiro.com/bicyclecommuter/
Lorraine Clarke at The Valley Athletic Club
https://www.valleyac.com/
https://www.facebook.com/thevalleyathleticclub/
Joanna Sather at Athena Fitness and Wellness
https://www.facebook.com/joanna.sather
https://www.instagram.com/athenapnw/
