From: greg@regulus.sce.carleton.ca (Greg Franks)
Subject: Boston Montreal Boston (long)
Organization: Systems and Computer Engineering, Carleton University.
Date: Wed, 9 Sep 1992 13:51:41 GMT


Prologue
--------
June 15, 1992.  I must be out of my mind.  None-the-less, I seal the
envelope and send ``it'' on the way -- ``it'' being the registration
form for this year's Boston-Montreal-Boston Randonneur.

What is a Randonneur?  A randonneur is a timed cycling event where the
clock starts when you leave (for example Boston), and stops when you
return (in this case 750 miles later).  Riders must make various known
and secret checkpoints along the route within a prescribed period of
time.  For B.M.B., the entire route must be finished in 90 hours or
less.

Theoretically, riders are self-supporting, although up to four bags
can be taken by truck to some of the checkpoints along the route.
Personal ``sag'' wagons are frowned upon; fortunately many riders
ignore this recommendation and bring along their very own personal
four-wheeled bike shops.

The event is not a race; there are no prizes for finishing, nor even
for coming in first.  You don't even get the home game!  However, for
the for the rock-bottom price of US$210 you do get a spiffy T-shirt
(don't forget to declare it so that Uncle Brian gets his cut!)

Day One
-------
Fast forward to August 20, 3:00 A.M.  After a restful sleep lasting
all of four hours, its time for a hearty, albeit quick, breakfast of
bananas and granola bars.  The ride starts in less than an hour and I
don't want to be late.

Four A.M: lights on, generators engaged, vista lights blinking (it's a
good thing there are no epileptics on the ride) -- Dan, Mike and I
(the OBC crowd), along with eighty-three others, start off in pitch
blackness towards Montreal.  With luck, this morning's start will be
the only night riding that we will have to do during the whole trip.
After all, today's 235 mile trip to Middlebury Vt. is the longest of
the four days, and I should be in by eight P.M.  I just hope the
person at the front of the pace line knows where he or she is going.
Maybe I should have opted for the 10 A.M. start instead.  No coffee
either -- bummer.

Ninety miles later, Dan, Mike and I roll into New Hampshire.  So far,
so good, but comments such as ``wait till they get to route 78'' by
the course designer are a touch worrisome.  We now seem to be going
out of our way to bypass Brattleboro Vt.  Needless to say, the detour
involves a hill.

The first checkpoint on the course is in Putney Vt., home of world
famous Bar-be-cued ribs.  Unfortunately, the checkpoint staff provide
us will bananas instead.  I pull the camera out and take my first
pictures for the day.

One of the nice features of the Avocet 40 cycle computer is that it
allows one to reset distance, average speed, max speed and whatever
separately.  This capability is rather handy because the cumulative
distance on the route card is reset to zero at each checkpoint.
Needless to say, as I roll out of Putney, I forget to reset the
distance.

The ride blurb mailed out by the organizers mentioned that the course
would follow quiet secondary roads.  True enough, but I begin to
suspect that the organizers were really trying to maximize climbs as
the primary objective.  At four P.M., and after 10,000 feet of
climbing, I roll into Ludlow (and without getting lost).  I decide to
reduce total mass and ditch the camera.  Who has time for picture
taking anyway.

Eight P.M.  It's getting dark and here I am in Hancock Vt.  Too bad
Middlebury is on the other side of the Green Mountains.  I wonder how
much juice the generator puts out while I am climbing the gap at a
snail's pace.  On the way up, I pass one of the two tandems on the
course.

Eight forty-five, Middlebury gap.  I catch up to the tandem I passed
earlier.  They weren't walking up the hill.  I hate pushing bikes.  At
least it is down hill from here.  I just hope I don't blow the
generator or the lights on the way down.  It only took me a couple of
hours with a file to get the stupid thing to fit on my bike, and
wouldn't you know it, I left my file back in Ottawa just in case I
have to put another one on.

Dan, Mike and I finally make it into Middlebury at nine-thirty.  There
is food here!  Pasta and bananas.  Yumm.  I wonder why I am not
terribly hungry.  I also wish that the one (1) shower had hot water.

Later that night, I also began to wish that I had earplugs.  Needless
to say, I was not the last person to arrive at the checkpoint.  In
fact, I could tell the exact instant that every remaining straggler
checked in the by the thunderous SLAM of the door closing.  I also
wonder how the three lumberjacks sawing logs could sleep despite the
racket.  I am sure that they would do CP forest products proud.

Day Two
-------
The schedule said that the checkpoint closed at 5:30 A.M.
Unfortunately, this means that one has to be out of the gym by this
time.  Oh well, three hours of sleep ought to be plenty.  After all,
today's ride is a comparatively short 190 miles.  Furthermore, the
course is relatively flat.

My first pit stop of the day takes place in Essex Junction.  Here, I
along with ten others on the ride, load up on pancakes, coffee and
Ibuprofen.  The official down the road at the ``secret'' checkpoint
watches, waits and wonders if we are ever going to leave.  We do.

Two P.M. and I arrive in Rouses Pt. N.Y.  The Ibuprofen seems to be
working (my knees don't hurt as badly as they did first thing in the
morning).  The Canadian border is but two miles away, and Montreal
fifty.  I want to catch a few Z's here, especially since I nearly fell
asleep on the bike near Grand Isle, but Dan insists that we press on.
We have already seen a few riders heading back towards Boston.  So,
yet another delicious lunch/supper consisting of bananas and pasta and
we're off.

While at the Rouses Pt. stop I could not help but notice a red Kestrel
with about 500,000 candlepower of lights attached to the aero bars,
and with Vittoria Professional Utmost tubulars glued to the Zipp Aero
wheels (no Campy parts though).  I wonder if the owner of this bike is
also on his or her way back.  Two hours later, I pass said Kestrel
(and owner) on the way to Montreal.  I guess 500,000 candlepower of
lights needs 50 tons of batteries.  The weight must be a wee bit of a
pain.  Apparently, the owner agrees because he bails out in Rouses Pt.
on the return leg.

At four P.M. we see our goal, Montreal.  Unfortunately, I can no
longer use the maps that I have been carrying to navigate so I have to
resort to using the route card.  As we continue into town, I begin to
get the distinct impression that I have seen the same freeway over and
over again.  Deja vu or what?  Either the organizers are trying to pad
the distance, or they are sadistically trying to wring every possible
climb out of the course by making us go over overpasses again and
again and again.  I also wonder what the funny red signs with the word
``ARRET'' mean.  We see them every 200 yards or so.  Its a good thing
they aren't stop signs as stopping this frequently would certainly
wreak havoc with the average speed.

We leave Montreal at 5:30, and arrive at Rouses Pt. at 9:30 P.M.
``Where do we sleep'', I ask the official.  ``Well, most people book a
room in a Motel.  I think there are some rooms left about a mile down
the road'' the official responds.  ``Alternatively, you can sleep
under the bleachers in the arena if you like''.  I choose the latter,
hoping the refrigeration plant is running so that I can ice my knees.
No such luck however.  Thankfully, the lumberjacks aren't here.

Day Three
---------
Day three, four A.M., and time to go.  Fortunately, the greasy spoon
in Alburg Vt. opened at three, so I get to have food and coffee first
thing in the morning.  Despite three cups of coffee, I forget the
Ibuprofen at the restaurant.  I guess the coffee isn't working
anymore.  The waitress runs out with the bottle just before I leave.
My knees thank her (I still wish the ice plant had been running).

After two days, 400 miles, and a whole seven hours of sleep, the warp
drive was not working too well despite all the work being done by
Scotty to keep things running.  After sustaining an average speed of
17 m.p.h. on the first day and 16 m.p.h. on the second, today's 13
m.p.h.  seems a touch slow. At least I am still rolling though.  Of
the 100 people who started the trip, only eighty left Rouses Pt.

Eight P.M.  I limp into Ludlow Vt. after walking Middlebury gap (again
-- how embarrassing) and totally exploding in Killington.  Multiple
cans of coke, chocolate and whatever else I could stuff into my face
are not helping.  I decide to stay overnight here.  All but one other
person head on to Brattleboro.

Day Four
--------
Four A.M. Sunday.  The checkpoint in Brattleboro closes at 8:30, and
it is 67 miles and four major climbs away.  My knees still hurt, but
at least I got a decent nights sleep on a real bed.  Furthermore, it
is time to have all of the ``training'' that I have done on the OBC
Vermont trips pay offit is time for creative navigation!
I make a slight route change to the course thus eliminating three
climbs, including route 100 south out of Ludlow, and 10 miles.  And as
an added bonus, I get breakfast in Bellows Falls.  If I had skipped
the extra coffee, I would have even made the checkpoint in time.  Oh
well, who cares.

Given that I was chopping hills out of the route left right and
center, I decide to flatten out Bear Mountain and go through
Brattleboro instead.  Just before turning to cross the Connecticut
River, I come across two lost souls.  Much to my surprise, they turn
out to be my riding partners, Dan and Mike.  I was touched by the fact
that they needed their navigator.  Too bad I was taking yet another
short cut.

I send Dan and Mike in the right direction, then cross into New
Hampshire.  My bike must not have liked the fact that I was leaving
Vermont as it decided to blow the rear tire.  This could be a problem
as I dumped all but one spare in the truck in Brattleboro in order to
cut weight.  After passing by the Vermont-Yankee Nuclear Power
Station, I rejoin the route.

Despite popping Ibuprofen like candy, my knees are not happy at all.
However, Boston is at sea level, so the course should be ``downhill''
most of the way.  Wrong again.  After three days and 650 miles of
riding, M.C. Escher has his revenge.  Downhill stretches seem like
flats, level stretches are uphill, and any sort of grade become a Hors
Category climb.  I have also determined that B.M.B. stands for ``Bust
My Butt''.  None-the less, I make it into Barre Mass., the last
checkpoint before Boston.

Mike meets me here.  ``Where's Dan'' I ask.  Mike responds ``he broke
his derailleur cable', so he's moving a little slowly''.  Luckily for
Dan, one of the private sag vehicles was caring a spare.  Not to be
outdone by mechanical problems, I spring a slow leak in my rear tire.
Since I am running tubulars, this is a problem.  Maybe I should have
``borrowed'' the tires off the Kestrel back in Rouses Pt.  So as not
to get lost, I do the pump and sprint routine.  Doing intervals after
130 miles of riding is not fun, especially after 600 miles the three
previous days.

Luckily for me, one of the people I was riding with comes to my
rescue.  No, he doesn't have a spare tire (rats) -- he has a
schrader-to-presta valve adapter.  This little piece of hardware,
coupled to a can of spray-in tire sealer available at the local
``Mac's'' enables me to proceed.  Apparently, the goo wrecks the tire,
but I do not care, especially since the tire in question is a Wolber.

Seven thirty P.M.  Boston.  We get lost with two miles to go.  The car
coming to rescue me (I called the emergency number two hours earlier,
either to get a lift back or to get another wheel) spots us and guides
us to the finish where we pig out on REAL food: hot dogs and burgers.
It is hard to believe, but I made it!


Copyright 1992, Greg Franks.
--
Greg Franks   (613) 788-5726     Systems and Computer Engineering,
uunet!mitel!cunews!sce!greg      Carleton University,
greg@sce.carleton.ca             Ottawa, Ontario, Canada  K1S 5B6.
Overwhelm them with small bugs so they don't see the big ones.

--
Greg Franks   (613) 788-5726     Systems and Computer Engineering,
uunet!mitel!cunews!sce!greg      Carleton University,
greg@sce.carleton.ca             Ottawa, Ontario, Canada  K1S 5B6.
Overwhelm them with small bugs so they don't see the big ones.