Day 4 meant break over, such as it was. The route was 88 miles and included a climb to the high point of the seven-day ride. It also represented a low point in Kathy’s and my relationship on the bike. Kathy had never ridden all of Day 4 before, so I was hoping this would be the year she made it. She did, and we did. But I nearly ruined the ride for both of us in the process. It’s a testament to our 40+ years of friendship that I didn’t. Maybe even a refutation of the prevailing notion that tandems are bad for relationships.
I’ve split the Day 4 recap into two parts, of which this is the first. The stats below relate to the entire day’s ride.
Route: ridewithgps.com/routes/46874134
Miles ridden: 87
Feet climbed: 3,885
Total time: 10:11
[NB: some photos courtesy Mel Embree and Chris Eisenberg]
Paso Robles to Half-Way to LA
Our plan for Day 4 was different from other days. Whereas I wanted to beat the clock on Days 1 and 2 and beat the heat on Day 3, there were no such pressures on Day 4. The following day, Day 5, would be the shortest on the ride. We could start later on Day 5 if we wanted and we planned to hit every rest stop because Day 5 is Red Dress Day and we knew there would be lots to see. So there was no rush to get Kathy extra time to recuperate.
Nevertheless, Day 4 started poorly. With so many cyclists staying in town everything was backed up. Kathy texted to say breakfast was a disaster and that she’d be late, then texted again to tell me the line at Starbucks was huge. The only thing worse than running late, in my opinion, is riding with a partner who hadn’t had a good breakfast. I told her that was fine and to make sure she got plenty to eat. But running into road blocks like a disastrous breakfast scene and huge lines is stressful. Standing around in a dirt parking lot with nothing to do but wait is a drag.
Kathy arrived much sooner than her texts suggested she would. She waited for me at the start while I walked the tandem through the usual morning starting queue. We moved off to the side, set the bike up (attached heading, radar, mount water bottles, stash food, drugs, spare clothes, etc.), and soon enough were on our way.
Though Kathy has never ridden all of Day 4 on the ALC, we’d ridden the main parts of Day 4 on the tandem back in late-January. We split the day’s route into two rides, caravanning to the finish to leave one car, then driving together back to the start. We rode from lunch (near Morro Bay) to the finish at Santa Maria one day, then from the start in Paso Robles to Cayucos on the next. So we knew what to expect and how to ride each section well.
At least we thought we did. The weather in January was steady: a slow rise in temperature throughout the day. In June, the route was checkerboarded with sub-climactic changes. Like Kathy says, Day 4 is a poorly written day. This is one of the reasons. Over the course’s eighty-eight miles we went from warm to cold to hot to cold to warm to hot. There was, as she wrote, no coherence to the plot.
The first part of Day 4 includes a climb over the coast range on Highway 46. ALC riders dub this the “Evil Twins” because there are two major climbs. We were delayed for a while on the way due to road construction, but no big deal. This was our “time doesn’t matter” day.
Rest Stop 1 lies at the base of the first big climb so we pulled in for a quick breather. Soon enough we were on the climb. All went well. We’d ridden it before, so we knew what to expect: drop into the granny, sit up and breathe, and settle into a long, slow climb. Take time to enjoy the view and the fact that (in our mid-60s) we are fit enough to be 250 miles into a 545-mile ride. Two friends sharing a long day’s ride in the country. It was warm, but not yet hot. The air was fresh. Riders passed us, we passed others. Still others walked or took breaks along the side of the road. Typical ALC climb.
Speaking of side of the road, one thing that amazed me was the number of flat tires we saw every day. I swear it seemed there was an average of one flat every mile of the ride. At the finish on Day 7 I met three riders who were carpooling back home. Of the three, one had had three flats and the others had had two each. I’ve never seen so many flats on an organized ride . . . or an any ride for that matter. I still don’t know why that was. Though I will admit that the one near confrontation I had was with a rest stop worker who asked me to park the tandem in weeds. I refused, saying I’d be happy to if I were riding tubeless, but that there was no way I’d park a bike with tubes anywhere near a goathead (aka puncture vine) infested field. I later apologized for my attitude, but damn if I would pick up a thorn intentionally.
Anyway, we climbed the Evil Twins without incident, slowly, slowly, one might say. Just past the summit are pullouts on the left side of the road. In years past, the first pullout was designated as “Half-Way to LA.” For some reason ALC moved the spot a little further down the road to the next large turnout. Because this was a highway, and because we had to cross, there were volunteers who required us to stop, dismount, and wait to be herded in groups across the highway during breaks in the traffic. Personally, I would have skipped the photo op. Making it to halfway to LA didn’t seem all that notable to me, maybe because I’d made it twice before on unsupported rides. But Kathy insisted, and remember, this ride was all about Kathy! Right? So we stopped and I put a cork in my negative attitude.
The rest stop was mobbed. It seemed all 1400 ALC cyclists wanted a chance to grab one of the handful of “Halfway to LA” signs and get their picture taken while standing on the edge of the pullout with a view of Morro Bay behind them. No, we weren’t in a hurry. But it hurt Kathy’s back to stand and to walk on uneven ground, and it grated on my nerves to have to wait to pose for a photo. You may notice I rarely smile in my pics. There’s a reason for that. But again, this was for Kathy! She found an abandoned sign off to the side and we stood in front of some non-descript weeds. We got someone to snap our pic, then I agreed to snap pics for a few others.
Halfway to LA to Highway 1
Picture taken, right side of the highway regained after being shunted across, it was time to start the long descent to Highway 1 and the coast just south of Cambria. And here, at the high point of the seven-day ride came the low point of our six month tandem partnership. The distance from the summit to Highway 1 is about 15 miles, most of it downhill. We set the drag brake and settled into a reasonably-paced descent. Not all out, but a good clip in the mid-20 miles per hour range. Nothing we hadn’t done earlier. As usual, once the brake was on Kathy gave a very audible sigh of relief.
The shoulder was wide, but not ideal. To the right was loose gravel and other detritus that invariably collects on the margins of a road. To the left was a shallow rumble strip. The pavement in the shoulder itself was usually good but had rough patches. Plus, of course, there were riders coming from behind to pass us as well as those ahead whom we would pass because they were riding more slowly.
So, we were tooling along at a decent clip, as I say, and we came to a situation: A rider in front of us going much slower than we were. We had two options: (1) slow down behind them and call out loudly that we were passing and hope they would move to the right and stay there while we passed; or (2) Cross over the rumble strip onto the highway and pass. To me, taking the highway lane and passing the rider was the safest approach. I didn’t trust the rider not to swerve into us, and I didn’t want to be caught between a nervous rider and a rumble strip. I also wasn’t sure about the condition of the pavement. Best to avoid both. Which meant crossing over the rumble strip to pass. I had no problem with that. But Kathy did. The rumble strip freaks her out because in past ALCs riders have been medevac’d out by crashing due to the rumble strip on this descent. She’d made this point before and she made it again. As Kathy remembers it, I said something to the effect that if they crashed crossing this rumble strip they didn’t know how to ride a bike. I probably said something snarky like that. Either way, she thought I was overestimating my ability, or just being cocky, or both; I thought she was overly-worried about a non-issue. The bottom line is that in addition to having a visceral fear of crossing the rumble strip on this hill, she felt disempowered, unseen, unheard. I finally got that when she said, in a non-playful manner, “Fuck you.”
Hearing the anger in Kathy’s voice and recognizing her fear based on her past experience and her utter lack of control over the situation made me change my mind. I slowed the bike, decelerating more rapidly than I’d have like to, and rang my bell and called out that we were passing on the left. We passed slowly once the rider finally shifted right. All without incident. At least, that’s how I remember it.
Either way it was too late. The damage was done. Kathy never offered more than a one syllable response the rest of the way down the mountain. She was no longer helping me pedal on the uphills, and the difference was such that I reached back to make sure the drag brake was off. It was a very long descent from the summit to the sea, literally and metaphorically.
[Kathy interjecting here. We have two completely different memories of this moment. I remember it vividly and, to me, it went like this: Rider(s) and/or cars coming up on our left, slower rider ahead of us, and the rumble strip needing to be passed to go around the slower rider. When Scott said he was going to pass, I’m pretty sure I said I’d rather we slow down (my thought being until the rider felt it was safe to move over). My distinct memory is that he passed anyway, going once over the rumble strip to pass, and once more to get back onto the shoulder. Scott clearly remembers that he didn’t cross it, and I clearly remember that he did.
My fear of that particular descent and that particular rumble strip is not irrational, nor borne of naïveté or lack of skill. That particular descent has caused hideous accidents almost every year I’ve ridden (there were two this year, one requiring an ambulance and one not). Riders who have ridden many more years that I have say that there’s always an accident on the stretch, except for when the fear of God is drilled into the riders the night before. At any rate, it is one of the most dangerous parts of the whole route, and my reaction had ZERO to do with my assessment of Scott’s skill riding a bike. At that moment, I didn’t give a flying fuck how skilled Scott was—there were so many other variables at play, including (and one could argue, especially) my clearly stated and repeated request to not do it. I was scared and pissed, and yes, I said fuck you with an immense amount of anger and fear and disappointment. I honestly don’t think I would’ve gotten so freaked out and massively angry had he not crossed the strip but… he says he didn’t.
Scott does not remember going over the strip, and I do. He remembers it his way, and I remember it mine. (We agree on the epithet.) We have had multiple painful conversations about this moment since and we have agreed to just to state our own truths and move on. We also agree, whole-heartedly, that we wish the moment had never happened, as it was truly shitty and still really upsets both of us.]
[And Scott commenting on Kathy’s comment: However it went down, what I did was wrong. The primary mission of tandem partners, especially the captain who has most of the control, is to communicate. Kathy clearly communicated her fear, and however I assessed the obstacles ahead and her assessment, I failed her by not listening. As she said, a moment we both wish never happened.]
Highway 1 to Lunch
Eventually we made Highway 1 and turned left toward Cayucos. The closer we got to town the more the air cooled, until we were riding in a cold crosswind under veil of low lying fog. I tried to explain my reasoning as we rode along, but felt I was getting nowhere. We made it to Rest Stop 2, a pullout a few miles north of Cayucos. I got snacks for Kathy and topped off her water as usual. Then she told me that one of the reasons she was so mad was that she thought I was sacrificing our safety for the sake of speed. I tried to explain that wasn’t the case, and maybe she saw that. But she was clearly still upset.
We rolled into Cayucos and stopped at the brown butter cookie place, an unofficial stop of the ride. Kathy bought some cookies and I took advantage of the free coffee they offered. Cookies helped. Coffee helped. We slowly warmed back into talking as we rolled along. Good thing too, because the next town, Morro Bay, had the most convoluted, inappropriate street crossing on the entire ride. It was confusing as hell, so I was grateful to have Kathy talk me through it. Basically, the ride turns off the highway onto a bike path. At one point the bike path narrows to a single lane and climbs a small hill before dropping rather precipitously down to spill riders out at a traffic signal on a busy street (Main Street, in fact). At this point, ALC riders are forced by traffic control to wait at two signals to walk their bikes across two streets in order to remount and continue their ride. At the first signal we were still in single file. It’s a short green and it must have taken us five minutes or more to cross. Another wait to cross again at the next corner., It probably took ten minutes total to get through this 50 feet of route. Kathy told me she has been backed up 45 minutes at that intersection in past rides, which was one of the reasons she couldn’t finish this day in years past. Absurd.
We rode alongside Highway 1 between Morro Bay and San Luis Obispo, then entered the highway further up. The cool ocean air gave way to hot inland air, the fog to bright sunshine. Like I mentioned earlier, the first 40 miles were warm, then, cold, then hot. We made it to lunch at Cuesta College. Roger met us there and he told me something funny. Apparently he’d mentioned to someone that his wife was on a tandem, and when distinguishing between the two tandems on the ride, the person said, “Oh, the one with the old guy.” Given I was probably thirty or more years older than the other tandem captain, that seemed appropriate. Either way, Roger and I got a little chuckle out of it.
According to Kathy, this lunch stop offered shade structures in years past. Not this year. I convinced her to go to the medical tent to ice her back because if nothing else they’d give her a chair in the shade. Then I went in search of a place to eat. People were hiding under anything that provided shade. For most, that meant sprawling in patchy ground under a few trees surrounded by dirt and protruding roots. I found a railroad tie in partial sun and sat next to another first-time rider and compared notes. Like most ALC meals I had when the music wasn’t blaring, it was great having a nice conversation with someone I’d just met. An easy way to pass the time on a warm day in the middle of our long ride in the country.
After lunch, Kathy apologized to me for Roger’s comment about me being the old guy. There were nuances there I didn’t know about. All I heard was that rather than getting a chance to relax, Kathy had instead endured a stressful lunch. I felt bad for her getting it from both Roger and me in different ways that morning. Ugh. I apologized to her for what happened on the hill, and admitted, not for the first time, that I was a dick. She didn’t disagree. But I think she was more angry with Roger than me at the moment, so I was out of the dog house for the time being.
We were in full sun and full heat now. I’d planned for this eventuality by packing along some tube socks. I filled a sock with ice, tied off the end, and draped it around Kathy’s neck. This was a trick I’d learned years ago on a Davis Double Century when the temps reached over 100 degrees. The ice instantly cools your neck, of course, which is a huge relief. But as it melts, cold water drips onto your jersey and your arms and the breeze that passes over you as you ride along turns the wet areas into air conditioners. It’s a life saver on a hot day, and it got Kathy through the first hot segment of the ride after lunch.
