Boston-Montreal-Boston
Did you ever wonder "What am I doing here ?" ? Well,
that was certainly the thought going through my mind at 4 am on
Thursday, August 20th last year. I was standing astride my bicycle,
in the carpark of Newtown High School, on the outskirts of Boston.
I was there with about 90 others, all faced with the prospect
of cycling 1200 km / 750 miles, to Montreal and back, in the next
90 hours. A justifiable reason for feeling apprehensive you might
say ! However, what was really worrying me was the fact that I
had a very painful knee, and that was before I had cycled an inch
! I had done the damage almost a month before, while riding the
Mersey Roads 24-hour time-trial in England. My knee had begun
to hurt after 10 hours and I was forced to withdraw after 14 hours.
Although my knee was too painful to continue, I was confident
that it would recover in the three weeks before my trip to the
United States, when I planned to ride both Boston-Montreal- Boston
(BMB) and Bicycle Across Missouri (BAM).
The germ of the idea to ride BMB was planted a few years ago
when I read an article about it in the International Randonneurs'
Journal. I had ridden Paris-Brest-Paris in 1991 and found it a
fantastic experience, an event with character, atmospere and history
and not lacking in challenge either, thanks to a rolling route.
When one of the many friends that I had made on PBP, Louis Branz,
invited me to the US to ride BAM, I jumped at the chance. I then
noticed that the dates of BMB and BAM were quite close together
and I decided to do both. Boston-Montreal-Boston is a cycling
event that is modelled on Paris- Brest-Paris. It is also 1200
km / 750 miles in length and features an out-and- back style route.
First run in 1988, it starts on the outskirts of Boston, runs
north through Massachusetts, cuts through a corner of New Hampshire
and then runs through the Green Mountains of Vermont. There then
follows a brief sortie into New York State before crossing the
Canadian border into Quebec and travelling up to Montreal. The
same route is then followed in reverse for the return journey.
My understanding was that BMB was quite like PBP but with a mountain
range thrown in for good measure. I wasn't too fazed by this description,
because I knew that Americans knew how to build
well-graded mountain roads, unlike Ireland, where the road goes
straight over hills, with no regard for even gradients.
After my injury, there followed three weeks almost completely
without cycling but with frequent anaerobic icing sessions instead
! However, with a week to go things were looking (and feeling)
pretty bad. At this stage I was feeling very depressed because
I could see all my plans going up in smoke, and I decided to cancel
everything. I had been in e-mail contact with Pamela Blalock (she
of the epic ride reports fame !) regarding BMB but, to make matters
worse, I was unable to contact her to discuss things. In the end
I rang Pamela to tell her of my decision, but she (to my everlasting
gratitude) persuaded me to come over regardless. She and Steve,
her tandem partner, were going to be supported during BMB by Steve's
brother Dave. She said that if the worst came to the worst, I
could help Dave support them. This provided a fallback for me
if I had to pull out, so I decided to go ahead.
I arrived in Boston on Saturday, August 15th, flying in to Logan
airport and had no problem finding Pamela and Steve. They made
ingenious use of the PBP route arrows that they had scavenged
after that event - they really stick out in a crowded arival hall
! Flashbacks to PBP continued when we visited the Belmont Wheelworks
shop on our journey from the airport. Who did I meet there only
Mike Bresnahan, another one of the American contingent at PBP,
and who had actually shared a hotel room with one of my friends
! I was sorry to find that Boston was suffering typically Irish
weather - an incessant, soft, misty rainfall. I was loath to venture
forth in those conditions on my sparklingly clean bicycle, not
to mention the possibility of the damp conditions iritating my
knee. It was the Tuesday then before I got out for a spin (I had
sweated quite a bit using Pamela's indoor trainer instead !).
I ended up doing about 80 miles, up to the New Hampshire border
and back, including getting lost on the way back, despite Pamela's
explicit directions ! The countryside, after leaving Pamela's
house in Lowell, was rolling and quite heavily forested, and indeed
reminded me of some of the route of Paris-Brest-Paris. Misty rain
clearing to blue skies and sunshine, surprisingly amicable motorists
(considering some things I had heard about the Land of the Automobile)
and quiet roads all contributed to good first impressions of cycling
in the United States. This good impression was tainted a little
however, when I came across two motorists fighting at a junction,
one having annoyed the other somewhere back down the road ! My
knee at this stage was painful, but bearably so. However, I wasn't
too keen to think about what it might feel like half-way into
a 1200 km ! I then missed a turn and inadvertedly added on a few
miles. As a result, I had to race back to the house in order not
to be late for a dinner date. Needless to say, my knee was not
very appreciative of the fact !
The next day, the day before the start of BMB, I went out for
a quick 20 miler with Steve. I know that we travelled through
some more pleasant, quiet and wooded countryside, but I didn't
take too much notice of it. My knee was simply crucifying me and
my thoughts were elsewhere, like what I was going to do in about
18 hours time ? Was it going to be worth my while starting the
event ? The more I heard about the route from Pamela and Steve,
the more I began to question my sanity. They told tales of epic
rides on some of the climbs that we would be traversing en route.
While this had the effect of making me very apprehensive, I think
it also subconciously brought out my stubborn streak and I decided
to give this event everything. The rest of the day was taken up
with packing our equipment for the event and attending the pre-event
sign-on. Also, being a non-stop randonee event, all machines must
be equipped with an adequate lighting system, so all machines
were checked. At this stage, you could give in bags filled with
spare clothes etc. which the event organisers would then send
out to the various controls. However, being the headstrong fool
that I am, I decided not to spare my knee at all, and to carry
all the equipment, tools, clothes and various spares that I would
need for the whole event, in time-honoured randonneur fashion.
If I was going to complete it, I was going to do it fair and square
!
I ran into another PBP veteran here too, Chris Koehller. He also
intended to ride BAM in the following month, along with a mutual
Australian friend whom we had both met in Paris . Pamela and Steve
also got a surprise at the sign-on. They had understood that they
were the only tandem entry for BMB, but arrived to find another,
to be ridden by two men. This provided some competition for them,
because they wished to use their completion of BMB for publicity,
in an attempt to raise sponsership for a possible RAAM attempt.
They would however, be the only mixed tandem to take part.
The start was to take place in two groups. The first, off at
4 am., would have 90 hours to complete the course, while the second,
off at 10 am., would have 84 hours. Of 100 odd starters, only
14 serious cyclo-sportifs, as they are known in Europe, decided
to go for the later start. The entry was made up of people from
all over the United States and Canada, as well as two foreigners,
a Frenchman and myself. Two people from the UK were listed as
entries but did not start. Pamela and Steve will tell you that
I wasn't exactly exuberant at the start. I was scared of getting
dropped by the group at the very start, so my first goal was not
to let this happen. I at least wanted to stay with a group until
dawn, when it would be easier to follow the route descriptions
(unlike PBP, which has a huge army of volunteers who post the
route, BMB leaves the navigation up to the participants. To do
this, it's necessary to have a cycle computer, calibrated in miles
(in Ireland, we use both miles and kilometres, but I always use
my computer set in kilometres)).
The start, in the grounds of Newton High School, was milling
with people come 4 am.. It was here that we met Nancy, who had
rang Pamela and Steve earlier in the week. She was making a documentary
about the event and was interested in featuring our intrepid tandemists
and one mad Irishman, amongst many others. Speaking naturally
in front of the camera proved difficult at first, but we would
get plenty of practise ! Powerful Nightsun front lights and flashing
rear Vistalites seemed to be the lighting system of choice. Pamela,
Steve and I were the odd ones out in the latter repect, having
the non-flashing UK version. It's illegal to attach a flashing
light to your bike in the UK so this version is produced specially.
It produces an excellent rear light, which has only slightly heavier
battery consumption that the flashing version. After a brief speech
by Hauke Kite-Powell, the event organiser, we were off. It's amazing
how much apprehension can melt away with the turning of your wheels,
because I immediately began to enjoy myself. I chatted away to
those in the group around me, swapping tall tales of past rides
and sharing fears about the current one. The enjoyment was helped
by a mild, dry night and quiet roads. The latter was helped by
a route which took in a quiet road through a golf course at the
beginning, complete with speed ramps. At least no one's water
bottle hopped out ! This was fun because I remembered Pamela mentioning
the golf course route in an earlier posting to the net, so this
was a bit like living out something you've read in a novel. Keep
up the good work Pamela !
It was bright by 6 o'clock and the first thing that struck me
was how early (well, compared to Ireland !) people were up and
commuting into work. Although we were now 40-odd miles from the
centre of Boston, I was informed that many of these motorists
drive there and back every day - what a life ! Now, if they cycled
... The group I was with got a little lost in a town called Berlin
- we couldn't find The Wall - but we were soon back on course.
A lovely sunny morning hinted at a good day to come, at least
weatherwise ! We were soon cycling through a forested region with
a continous series of rolling hills, very similar to Paris-Brest-Paris.
This was quite a magical section. Tall trees had mist rising from
the ground between them, catching the low, early-morning sun.
It was quite chilly in the shadow of the trees, but those hills
were keeping us warm ! I was reduced to twiddling small gears
with my good leg doing most of the work, so I concentrated on
keeping a good rythm and not worrying about keeping up with others.
The road surface was getting worse and worse though, with huge
cracks running all over the road - I was feeling right at home
! I made a quick stop to take off my night-time reflective gear
and some excess clothing.
I started off again just as a group of riders came by and I found
myself riding with Tom Nezovich, from Ohio. Tom had to be about
the smoothest rider in the whole event; one of those people who
never look under strain. Our respective paces proved to be very
compatible and we were soon chatting merrily together and moving
along at a good pace. With about 50 miles/80 km done we reached
Barre and I started to get really worried. This was supposed to
be the easy section of the event and yet I found myself in my
28 x 21 bottom gear, out of the saddle (not easy using one leg
!) and working hard on the hill leading (up) into Barre. As I
inched my way upwards, I passed a young lady from Florida walking
her bicycle. And this before we reached the mountains ! The severity
of this hill may have helped because the following roads to Brattleborough
didn't seem too bad. The day was getting hot though and we had
to make a stop for liquid along the way. I was using a Camelbak
drinking system (which consists of an insulated water bag worn
on the back and a tube from which you suck the liquid) for the
first time, having reckoned that I could do with all the liquid
I could get. The result was pleasing, because it was quite easy
to drink from and was comfortable to wear. Tom was showing the
experience of a two-time PBP veteran and was being very careful
negotiating some tricky turns around beautiful Lake Mattawa. I
too was keen not to repeat my PBP mistakes (mostly made during
the night and by following French riders) and add 30 miles/50
km on top of what we already had to do ! We then entered New Hampshire
for about 10 miles before crossing the Connecticut River and passing
into Vermont.
The first control, at 120 miles/200 km, was in Putney. I met
Dave, Pamela and Steve's one-man support crew, just as I stopped
and he immediately asked me how my knee was faring. It was painful,
but I found that if I kept things steady the pain was at least
bearable. Considering how it had felt the day before, I was frankly
amazed to have even got this far ! Steve and Pamela were apparently
going well and had left the control about ten minutes before I
arrived. Having stoked up on some food and liquid, Tom and I were
soon off. In best randonneur tradition, this was straight up a
hill ! We were immediately back into rolling, wooded countryside
on very quiet roads. About 20 miles on we entered a town called
Grafton and made a sharp right turn, leading straight onto, you've
guessed it, a non-too-small steep hill. There was a person on
a bicycle just ahead of us, cycling up the hill with a child on
the back of his bike. We had a job catching him, but just as we
did this, he climbed off and we exchanged pleasantries about the
hill. It was just as well he stopped because I don't think we
could have kept up that pace for much longer !
Soon to follow was the climb of Mount Terrible. I was hoping
that it wasn't named by cyclists, but I was assured that it was
not too difficult in this direction. My knee was glad that it
didn't live up to it's name as it turned out to be a gently graded,
although long, climb. The descent though was terrific, long and
really fast. So fast in fact, that I went flying by the Ludlow
control, which was right at the bottom of the descent, and had
to make a U-turn further down the road. 170 miles done and only
another 580 to go ... Some delicious pasta and some of that American
delicacy, PBJ's, later, we were back on the road. The next control,
at Middlebury, was almost 70 miles away and we would be passing
over some of the toughest climbs on the event before we got there.
We largely followed Route 100 on this section, which is a main
north-south route through the Green Mountains. Despite this, there
was again very little traffic, apart from what were, to me, surprisingly
large numbers of cyclists. I hadn't expected to see anything like
that amount of people cycling in the country where the car is
king, but instead of that, I was seeing many more people cycling
than I ever do in "green" Ireland. Against that, Tom
informed me that Vermont is one of the most popular places for
cycling in America. The beautiful scenery, which must be mind-blowing
in The Fall, and the challenging terrain, act as a magnet
to cycling afficianados, and there are many companies which offer
organised cycling tours in the area.
We joined up with a few other riders along this section, with
Tom setting a steady tempo on both the flat and on the climbs.
The drag up to Killington sticks in mind as quite tough, as do
the ski-lifts on the way up the climb. So there is an easier way
to get up these things ! However, the climb that I was trying
to keep something in reserve for was the one over Middlebury Gap.
Steve and Pamela had told me a few tales about it that left me
a bit apprehensive. Because of my knee I was unable to apply anything
like full power to the pedals, which made the long climbs a slog.
I found getting out of the saddle very painful and could only
manage this by unweighting my left leg each time. Darkness fell
before we reached the hill and once we started to climb I switched
my generator off and relied on my battery front light and Vistalite
at the rear. There were a few steep sections where I found myself
in bottom gear and out of the saddle, wondering how much longer
this would go on. However, a guy from New York, who was at the
head of our group, rounded a corner and yelled out that we had
made it. We heaved a collective sigh of relief as we got onto
the flat section of road, thinking that it wasn't so bad after
all. I reckoned that it was probably just the usual randonneur
Chinese whisper effect, where roads get longer and hills higher
as you talk to more people. But no ! We then rounded another corner
and hit the steep section of the climb ! There followed a struggle
to the top, but we made it. Not too far now to the control, and
all downhill. Even the descent though, proved to be tricky. It
was very fast and twisty but extremely exhilarating by night.
My kamikaze instincts took over and I tore down it, nearly freezing
to death in the process. The lure of the control and somewhere
to rest my weary body was pretty powerful !
We all arrived at the control, with 240 miles/400 km done, just
after 10 pm.. We were alsolutely frozen but the warm welcome and
excellent food more than compensated. The sleeping accomodation,
in a large, warm gymnasium, was better yet and I enjoyed snoozing
on a very comfortable vaulting mat. Four o'clock seemed to come
rather too quickly though, and the road beckoned. Or at least
in a figurative sense ! It was a chilly, foggy morning that greeted
Tom and I when we ventured outside, wearing most of the clothes
that we had with us. Dawn was a prolonged and painful affair.
It seemed to take forever for the sun to crawl above the horizon,
while simultaneously, BOTH my knees were feeling swollen. Thankfully,
this soon eased away as I warmed up, something that was easily
accomplished, thanks to a series of rolling hills. We soon found
ourselves cycling in a small group, trading stories of the previous
day's exploits. A secret checkpoint in Burlington came at a convenient
time to remove reflective gear and warm clothes. Then it was on
again, destination Montreal. I didn't quite know how to feel at
this point. I was elated to have got so far, especially considering
the terrain. Against this was the fact that I knew that we would
we returning through the same mountains. Miraculously, my knee
didn't seem to be a whole lot worse than it was at the start,
although that wasn't saying much ! It's always important in long-distance
riding to adopt a divide and conquer approach. So, while I was
tempted into thinking, for the first time, how great it would
be to finish, I dismissed the thought and aimed for the next control.
This was to be at Rouses Point on the U.S.-Canadian border.
The fact that the terrain would be getting flatter from here
to Montreal did nothing to dampen my bouyant mood either. After
a quick mid-morning food and liquid stop (at which I was introduced
to the poor man's Powerbar - BitaHoney (if I've spelt it correctly
!), Tom and I found ourselves alone again. The gentle terrain
and pleasantly warm and sunny conditions ensured good progress
as we passed alongside Lake Champlain. Compared to the previous
day, the scenery was less inspiring but nonetheless pleasant.
The traffic though was a bit heavier but not unduly so. Tom's
route awareness again paid dividends on this stretch. I was leading,
intent on catching a few riders ahead. They went straight past
a left turn and I did likewise, only to have Tom call me back.
Unfortunately, they were too far ahead to call back and we didn't
have sufficient excess energy to chase after them. One of the
riders ahead was Scott Sturtz, who had qualified for RAAM, but
who had broken his collar bone shortly before he was to take part
in the race to end all races, and had to withdraw. He had taken
the later start time and had caught us, but unluckily for him,
was to get in a few extra miles today. We later met his friend,
acting as his one-man support crew, frantically searching for
Scott, and were able to tell him that he had gone astray. Just
short of the control at Rouses Point, we met the first person
on their way back. It turned out to be the sole French entrant
who seemed determined to do in an American event what Scott Dickson
had done in Paris- Brest-Paris - finish first. Leaving that control,
Tom and I teamed up with Karl Stuermer, also from Ohio.
Crossing the Canadian border, I was the cause of some delay,
due to being a non-American and having to get my passport stamped.
The border official seemed surprised that I was only planning
to spend some 6 hours in Canada ! The landscape now consisted
of flattish, very badly surfaced roads and corn fields. We were
also getting buffeted by a cross/headwind and were glad to join
up with a group of about half a dozen other riders. We traded
introductions and stories and were soon travelling along very
merrily. However, we were doing too much talking and nearly missed
a turn again. Luckily a woman who was doing support for another
rider saw us and chased us down ! As if that excitement wasn't
enough, the Canadian road authorities had decided to resurface
some of the roads on our route today. We came to a section of
road works and were waved on through. Seconds later we were all
yelling in agony ! The freshly laid tar was not only soft but
very hot. It stuck to our tyres before being sprayed up onto our
legs and causing some not inconsiderable pain. We took our only
option, dismounted and walked up the side of the road until we
had got past the road works. I still maintain that I cycled the
whole route though !
Entering the outskirts of Montreal, we followed a tortuous route
to the turnaround control. This was the only part of the whole
route that I didn't enjoy. The frequent stopping and starting
at the Montreal-style four-way stop junctions played havoc with
my knee. I was surprised at this stage to see Steve and Pamela
on their return journey because I thought they would be much further
ahead. It later turned out that all the stopping and starting
had also strained Pamela's achilles tendon. To make up for that,
the reception at the Montreal control was superb, as was the food.
I was on top form, as I had just achieved what seemed an impossible
objective at the start, and cycled the whole route in one direction.
I was getting plenty of teasing though about my tomato-coloured
face - I had forgotten to put on sun screen at Rouses Point and
was now paying the price ! I wasn't too sure how my knee might
handle the return section out of Montreal, but I couldn't wait
to find out ... It was now late afternoon and our group began
to wind the pace up in an effort to get back to the Rouses Point
control before dark. The group was working together really well
and the pace got faster and faster. Curiously, my knee started
to feel better and better and my overall level of well-being also
improved. This is an effect I've noticed several times in the
past on long rides where a feeling of fatigue and lethargy can
actually be improved by going faster ! However, Tom and Karl thought
the going a bit too fast and decided to drop off the back of the
group. After so many enjoyable miles together, I wasn't going
to leave them at this stage, so I dropped back too.
We made our own way to the control and actually got there before
the others because they ended up taking a wrong turn ! I was all
for grabbing the bull by the horns at this stage and continuing
on to the next control at Middlebury, which would mean riding
through the night. However, Tom persuaded me to spend the night
at Rouses Point with the help of a little bribery - the offer
of a motel room in Brattleboro the following night. And when some
fresh pizza arrived at the control, it helped me see the logic
of Tom's idea, so stay in Rouses Point we did ! Unfortunately,
I didn't have a great night's sleep because the sleeping quarters
were cold to say the least. (this by the way, being totally beyond
the organisers' control). Tom had sent on a sleeping bag and mat
to this stop, so he had everything under control. We were on the
road again before dawn, with the target of a diner down the road.
It's lights had a Dickensian-style welcome to them, offering the
warmth and comfort you normally take for granted. It was still
slightly dark as we left, feeling the better for some pancakes
and coffee.
When daylight did come, it did so with a vengence. Temperatures
rocketed and I made sure not to forget to put on my sun-screen.
We were now heading back into the mountains and sure enough, the
roads began to roll. The control at Middlebury was a welcome sight,
even if it did signify the beginning of the big climbs again.
After yet more haute cuisine, we were on the road again. It was
so hot that Tom and I striped down to just shorts for the climb
of Middlebury Gap, although Karl was comfortable the way he was.
The steepest part of the climb was at the bottom, so pyschologically
it was an easy one to surmount. The descent was magnificent and
we followed that with a quick stop for liquid. I felt absolutely
fantastic on the gently rolling roads that followed - one of those
(all too rare !) effortless, floating moments. On this section
too, we had the most sensual moment of the whole trip. Tom's feet
were killing him and both Karl's and mine were overheating. We
all had the same thought at the same time as we passed a gurgling
stream on a flat section of road. We stopped, took off shoes and
socks and waded in. The icy cold water trickling over our feet
and between our toes was sinfully pleasant and well worth the
stop. Thus refreshed, we hit the road again feeling like new -
well almost ! Reaching the control at Ludlow, we had 580 miles
done and 170 still to do, with 56 of those to our planned stop
at Brattleboro. This section had a tough start to it, with Mount
Terrible living up to its name in this direction !
Darkness soon fell, and with it came the exhilaration and devastation
that only cycling during the night can bring. The climbing and
descending brought an andrenalin high, but at other times drowsiness
took over and it seemed that we would never get to Brattleboro.
The extra care and attention needed to find your way at night
was also hard to muster, but also added to the adventure. Even
when Karl had trouble with his lights, it all seemed great fun.
We finally arrived in Brattleboro at one o'clock in the morning
and I was really surprised that Steve and Pamela hadn't already
been and gone. I had been talking to Dave at Rouses Point and
he had told me of Pamela's achilles tendon problems. I sincerely
hoped that they hadn't got too much for her, having suffered from
achilles tendinitis before myself. That motel room suddenly seemed
not just a good idea, but a brilliant one. A shower and a soft
bed seemed luxurious beyond words and we soon settled down to
appreciate their benefits.
Dawn, of course, seemed to come all too quickly and we reluctantly
dragged ourselves out of bed. Breakfast was taken care of at a
local eatery and we were soon back on the road. Unfortunately
Karl was suffering from a painful back at this stage and was unable
to pedal with his usual fluency. Barre, 55 miles away was our
next target, with some delightful scenery en route. We ended up
riding in a group for much of the way, with everyone very relaxed
now that the end was in sight. It was on this leg of the trip
that I met my namesake, John Bailey, from California. He saw my
Irish jersey, put two and two together and guessed who I was.
John, showing that age is no barrier to long-distance cycling,
rode totally at his own pace and put many younger guns to shame.
Also at around this time, I was surprised to have Steve and Pamela
overtake me on their tandem. I had assumed that they were bored
waiting for me at the finish but they were having trials and tribulations
of another type instead. Pamela's achilles' tendon had been troubling
her again, but a good night's rest had happily seen it recover
totally. They were now really moving and we just managed a few
words before they disappeared into the distance.
We met Dave again on this section too, offering us iced water.
I shocked him by throwing the water over my head instead of gulping
it down. He reckoned I had a drinking problem ! At the Barre control
we sought the shelter of the trees on the common in the middle
of the town while we topped up on liquid. Karl was now tinkering
with his saddle position in an attempt to reduce stretch on his
back and he told Tom and I to roll on without him. Reluctantly
we left him behind as we pressed on to the finish. I again found
myself feeling really strong and enjoying the heat, the roads,
the cycling, the ambience, everything in fact ! With about 25
miles left, Tom and I rewarded ourselves with a stop where we
consumed a sinful amount of Hagen Daz icecream and enjoyed every
last little bit ! Nearing the finish, we made our only navigation
error of any note on the whole event and added a few exasperating
miles on ourselves. However, this didn't take away anything from
the pleasure, pride and satisfaction we felt when we rolled into
the grounds. Everyone at the finish was on a high, elated from
their involvement in the event. I made a pig of myself at the
barbeque and enjoyed every second of a superb massage from Mike
Bresnahan. And to really top things off, Dave, in between his
support duties, had made a video of the event with a simply off-the-wall
commentary. We laughed our way through this back at Pamela's while
devouring heavenly pizza (long-distance riding always seems to
sharpen my taste buds !). It was a fantastic end to what had been,
for me, the most enjoyable cycling event I've ever done, bar none
!
read about Pamela's
ride
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