The Bianchini Rides Again - A Ride for ALS

Last week, I DNF'ed a 200K because the bike was feeling squirrely. Tire rubbing, chain clanking and chattering, spokes pinging. My legs were fine but I lost my mind. I mean my mental discipline. Confidence in my steed. No time to get the bike looked at or the wheel trued before Saturday. It was the Bianchi's turn in the sun this week.

The alarm chirped crickets at me at 4:45AM on Saturday. I was riding a century for ALS (why freeze with a bucket of ice water when you can sweat? and, oh yeah, you get to eat more this way) -- roll time 7AM in Napa. Even after all this time I wonder why I willingly get up earlier on Saturdays to sit my ass on a bike seat for 10 hours than I do during the week to sit in a comfy office chair. Monday - Friday, snooze, snooze, snooze and maybe one more snooze? Then Sunday rolls along and I awake without an alarm and in a panic because surely I have overslept for something!

It was chillier in Yountville than it was at home. After having ridden so many self-supported rides, participating in a supported century ride with SAG stops meant I could travel light. A small amount of packed food - the usual energy bar chopped up into bite size pieces in the bento box, some GU blocks for quick energy and the mandatory caffeine, but no bananas and PB&J, trail mix, hard boiled eggs (food I tend to take on a 125 mile tour and return to the car with it still in my bag). So advance preparation, while minimal, still afforded me the opportunity to forget my arm warmers. Corinne offered me a spare pair but I decided to tough it out. It wasn't that cold and I tend to run warm when riding. I regretted my decision only briefly.

Much of the route was familiar, set in eastern Napa County. We started out Sage Canyon and climbed gradually by Lake Hennessey. From Lake Hennessey, we climbed gradually through Pope Valley. I had ridden this way once before on a sweltering day in June when I first returned to cycling. I suffered on the climb - hills were much harder back in 2010. We passed through golden hills, vineyards still adorned with glittering purple jewels, followed a creek through cool woodsy areas.

Where my familiarity ended was the turn up Ink Grade. I'd heard lots about it since 2010 but this was my first time up it. It's a long climb with a section of pitchiness. Various parts reminded me of other climbs I'd done: Old La Honda, Tunitas Creek, Morgan Territory, the lower part of Mix Canyon; Even in its unfamiliarity, it was familiar. Seeing the sign "You're halfway to the top!" was a bit discouraging. That's a data point I'd rather not know. Ink Grade is a taste of wild Napa County. Grassland and Live Oaks, modest country houses scattered hither and yon. After 4.3 miles and 1058 feet of climbing, we reached the top.

More important than hearing about the climb, I had also heard what a fun descent Deer Hill Road was. I was not disappointed. Descending the 7.5 miles made me realize how long we had been climbing. It also reminded me of just how freaking fun my Bianchi is. She's a bit heavy, especially with the rack on the back (and the girl on the seat), but corners like a dream and picks up speed like a freight train. Days like this make me wonder why I abandoned her for flashy titanium.

The Deer Hill descent ended abruptly at Silverado Trail. We were half-way done and turned north to find Sterling Vineyards and the next SAG stop. We were back in the "flats" again. Silverado Trail is busy with car traffic, but the vineyard scenery is nothing to take for granted. The road rose gently above the valley floor. An updraft perfumed the air with the smell of fermenting must. I nearly got weak in the knees thinking about the reds I smelled burbling from juice to wine. We ambled along Bennett Lane. We rode past Clos Pegas. I was stunned at the clunky grey concrete; battleship meets walmart meets federal penitentiary. Heavy and foreboding and trying too hard.

Crush! Grape trucks carrying loads of full half-ton bins, porta-potties (kybos!) being towed to vineyards being harvested. Fruit dropped in the vineyards that was moldy or unevenly ripened and didn't make the harvest bin.

I passed a church and idly wondered where the church ladies were and why no one was selling pie. Don't they know there are cyclists out here who need pie??

Oft times, the Trail is plagued with headwinds in every direction. We had a good day. Breezes were mild, there were cautionary signs telling drivers that there were cyclists on the road, the sun was warm but not too warm. I pulled us along for a bit. Every stop delayed TTFB (Time Til First Beer). I was getting impatient and ready to be done. Maybe the caffeine was finally catching up, but I felt stronger at mile 70 than I did at mile 20. There must have been a tailwind...

We happened upon a group of strong young cyclists. Somehow, we were passing them. Wow! We must be having an amazing day! Corinne dropped her chain and we pulled off to fix it. They passed us. A mile or so down the road, we caught up with the first (technically, last) cyclist of the group. I noticed. No shifters. No brakes. Fixie. Ok, so that's why we caught him... and we kept catching other members of the group. Fixie. Fixie. Fixie. Finally, we passed the leaders of their pack. I slowed and said to them, "I knew I had no business passing you before, but now I see the Fixies." We had a laugh and continued on. I praised the Goddess of Derailleurs.

At last we were back at the start. We had a warm welcome and cheers which always makes me feel a little silly. My goal: find the beer before it's gone. Lagunitas is very generous with their charity events. There was still some IPA left. Life was good.

Corinne and John and I noshed a bit and celebrated our efforts.

He is why we rode:  Paul Stimson and others affected by ALS.