The Crap eating dog

This was not "the dog"
I didn't have a camera with me at the time.
(This dog will have to do as a stand-in.)

***

When we are really training hard for something in particular there is noting better then looping around the Island multiple times. This was the case when a friend (Ann) and I were looping around the Island three times. The net effect from this ride is about 90 miles and 9,000’ of climbing.

About halfway through the ride we wanted to stop at Battleground Park for a bathroom break and to refill water bottles. It was a very cool surprise to find the horse-show going on when we arrived. In addition to all of the cool riders and horses—there were a lot of great food booths—which we sampled most of.

It was about this time when our blood sugar was bubbling happily after all the food and our stomachs were telling us to lay in the warm grass—but our heads were telling us we needed to keep on peddling.

The scene of all these elegant horses and riders also included a lot of horse crap everywhere. Inevasible I suppose. We were just lounging around in the sun trying to make the next move—when out of the corner of our eyes we saw a pretty dignified guy with some kind of a smallish dog pulling the guy on a very tight leash. Really looked like the dog was walking the guy. Ann was talking with this guy about the horses—and the dog—and the guy was going on and on and on about this special breed and the demeanor and the characteristics and who knows what else. It was sort of bla bla bla.

Then after a little while Ann asked the guy what kind of a dog it was. Immediately (as if on cue) the dog jumped hard against the collar and leash and landed on his target—a not too fresh pile of horseshit. I watched with horror amazement that this dog started grinding his head into the pile and eating huge mouthfuls.

I had been pretty quiet to this point—where by I answered Ann’s question by saying that this was a Shit Eating Dog. The guys face had this sort of twisted perplexed and sort of disturbed look--Ann was about to explode with laughter when I suggested we peddle on—now.

Travels

Traveling is simply the best. If I had the chance to create a national policy for the school system--I would require kids in schools to to spend a year in any foreign country. This would give them the opportunity to see life from a totally different perspective where family, work and life is generally very different. This might even give them a fresh viewpoint on their own country.

Deer Encounter

5:30 AM / Park Street

The fog and mist hugged the ground—and the smoke from the fireplaces from the houses enveloped you.

This morning was like so many, many others. Kind of like on remote control. Cruising up and down hills. Listening to all kinds of crazy music. Singing along on old songs. Just having a lot of fun. You get in this weightless zone where you don’t have any obligations or have to say or do anything.

At this hour it is perfectly quiet—and the only sound you hear are your tires, your breathing and your (well my) bad singing. Turning a bend in the road at about 20 mph I saw directly in front of me a huge deer. It was simply standing there looking directly at me. I wasn’t very far away from him. I frankly didn’t know what to do—so I just stopped and looked at him. This is what we did for several minutes the deer and I. It was just surreal—in this dark, foggy road absolutely silent this huge creature was trying to figure out what I was all about—just as I was trying to figure out what he was thinking and was about.

The Tree on F/U hill

Sunday 6AM

F/U Hill isn’t very long-probably only a few thousand feet at most-what it has going for it is location—location—location. You come screaming down a hill at about 40 mph do some very fast banks and you see the hill—and you always think that your built-up speed will ricochet you over the top. Once you hit a certain point of the hill gravity puts a lock on you and you need to really work.

This isn’t a big—huge deal. Bainbridge has lots of hills. There are long hills and some really hard hills. The fact of the matter going over this hill only one time isn’t such a big deal. When things get interesting is when you start looping around the Island more then one time. This is when some of my companions have dubbed this special hill F/U Hill.

One Sunday morning—I was supposed to meet a group of cyclists for an early morning ride. The weather was sketchy. OK it was raining and it wasn’t sketchy and all the riders made the decision to stay in bed. It was their loss. Being that it was a Sunday morning—and raining there was nobody at all on the road. It was very exceptionally beautiful. The rain wasn’t bad—nothing crazy-nuts or anything—just heavy, heavy mist.

There is something very spiritual riding through mist and rain when it is quiet. Everything has an amazing smell. I wasn’t too disappointed riding alone.

I wasn’t too concerned about going downhill in the rain. The fact of the matter was you had no brakes—so you simply knew not to hit the brakes—you would skid. The bigger issue was retaining traction going up the bigger hills. You couldn’t climb out of the seat as this caused you to loose traction on the rear wheel. You just had to stay seated—and dig in.

This was my state when I flew down –and approached F/U hill. I was digging in and grinding my way up. All of the sudden without any warning—and without any sound what so ever a large tree flopped down across the entire road in front of me. The tree was about 500 yards in front of me—so there was no immediate danger. I slowed down and got off the bike. And really wanted to say to somebody: Did you see that?!  It was just completely crazy. Apparently all the rain from the preceding few days weakened the trees roots—and it was simply too much for this tree—and it was time to come down.

There was nothing to do but ride up to the tree climb over and carry the bike over the tree to get to the other side of the road. It occurred to me that cars would be flying down that same hill towards the fallen tree—so I waited at the top of the hill stopping traffic and turning them around. One driver had some flares and we put them down. We contacted the fire department—and somebody came with a chain saw to start fixing the situation.

You couldn’t help but wonder the what- if’s. The one that went around my mind the most was what if the whole group of riders actually had shown up? Always going up a hill—especially a steep hill—there is always a stretched out group of riders. Who knows what might have happened. Crazy-lucky.

Nutrition / Hydration

Steven's Pass