Yesterday morning, New Year’s Day, 2008, about a dozen randonneurs assembled in a cold Lexington, North Carolina parking lot prepared to become some of the first American randonneurs of 2008.  There was another brevet beginning in Florida and one more was scheduled to start a little later in Texas, but there was a pioneering feeling in the parking lot as the next randonneuring season was about to begin and we were among those who would begin it.  In keeping with the pioneering spirit of this brevet, Tony arranged to have us ride through Gold Hill, North Carolina which is the site of the first gold strike, and ensuing gold rush, in the United States.  

    I was one of the dozen and I had very mixed feelings about being there.  Since this is my first winter in North Carolina, I was a bit leery when I saw a brevet scheduled for New Year’s Day.  Before transferring to Colorado College, I spent a year at William and Mary in Williamsburg, Virginia, but that was 1972-73 and I don’t remember what that the winter was like.  What winter was to hold for me in North Carolina was still a mystery, but I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be as dark and wet as the Northwest winters I had suffered though during the previous seventeen years.

    I did think it would be neat to be one of the first randonneurs of 2008, but I didn’t think it would be neat to suffer miserably for hours and hours on a mid winter ride.  I will say that the Red Randonneuse didn’t seem to have any concerns about the ride and didn’t seem at all bothered along the way even though my nose ran a fairly constant stream that dripped all over the top tube throughout most of the ride.

    The weather:  This was the spoiler for me.  I watched the weather reports on the Internet for ten days before the brevet and I watched it change a couple of time a day throughout that period.  Finally, on about Friday, it looked like it would be pretty decent so I went on line and registered for the ride.  That’s probably not the way a hardcore randonneur should do things, but it’s the way I did this brevet.  After Friday, which, by the way, was two days before a cool, very wet Sunday, the reports started looking worse.  It was supposed to be clear or mostly clear, but the high was dropping off toward 50° and it was going to be windy with gusts to thirty miles an hour.  As it turned out, the day before, New Year’s Eve, was a beautiful day with little to no wind and temperatures in the low 60’s, but , unfortunately, New Year’s Day was much cooler and windy; as promised.  

    My fitness:  This was another concern.  Not only is this the middle of winter when most of us simply don’t ride as much as we should, but I’ve been suffering some kind of sinus turmoil since November.  I took a course of antibiotics for an infection in December, but that didn’t solve the problem.  I think the thing is taking a lot out of me and I feel pretty lethargic some days.

    Enough about me.  When we assembled in the parking lot, it was about ten degrees colder than it was supposed to be, but there was no wind.  As I watched the start time pass during our briefing, I thought we should get as many miles behind us as we could before the wind started, but the briefing went on to 8:08 -- two miles lost.  The wind was supposed to come in from the northwest and west and we were supposed to go south, west, north, and finish coming east.

    Finally, we started.  Steel bikes with fenders made a good showing at the start.  There was a Surley, an old Schwinn Voyager, a Silk Hope, my Coho randonneuse, and another steel bike that I can’t identify this morning.  We had the roads to ourselves for most of this New Year’s Day brevet and we quickly found ourselves in rolling North Carolina woods and farmland.  As a new immigrant to the state, I wonder about every nice little community I come through.  I wonder if we should have moved there instead of where we did.  I always remind myself that we are happy with our neighbors and they are happy with us and that is important; especially to Nina.  

    Yesterday, I liked Denton, and Gold Hill was just perfect, but it probably attracts tourists.  I saw the perfect little red brick house along one quiet road, but it had a big ramshackle shed behind it instead of a tidy shop.  I saw a too big brick house with an almost perfect brick garage behind and to the side of it.  Bricking over the garage door, would make that garage into a wonderful shop.  The first house and the second garage, in the right community . . . oh, but I dream.

    The wind came on at 9:35 and it was soon right in our faces.  At times we were in fairly thick woods and they gave us some respite.  When the wind started, it was still in the thirties or maybe forty.  I am not a great pace line rider and slipping off the pace line meant a real struggle to get back to it.  When we arrived at the first control, I was a bit behind the front group and a bit ahead of the back groups.  The control was just outside of Gold Hill -- the town itself was shut down for the holiday.  It was a very tidy little gas station.  A different Tony was out front signing cards, and since I had food in my Berthoud bag, I didn’t need to go inside, so I snapped a picture and headed out.  Mike Dayton joined me.

    I’ve started two 200k permanents with Mike and I know he is a stronger rider than I am; and he is in a lot better shape this time of year because his motivation to ride a lot is stronger than mine.  Mike didn’t have a cue sheet.  He rode the brevet on the pre-ride and couldn’t get credit for it again, but he didn’t say why he was without a cue sheet.  (He also didn’t have to carry a brevet card or worry about DNFing.)  

    Putting me in charge of navigation isn’t a great plan.  We started down Saint Stephens Church Road and rolled past the Gold Hill gold strike and the little town built up around it.  At the edge of town, we crossed a good size road, and I told Mike we go straight on Saint Stephens for 4.6 miles to Kluttz Road.  The name was appropriate because I’d looked one line down on the cue sheet for the milage.  We were supposed to go 2.1 miles to Kluttz Road.  As we approached Highway 49, we assumed we’d reached Kluttz.  When it turned out to be Highway 49.  We stopped.  I said, “Kluttz Road should be at mile 37.1.”  Mike said his cycle computer said we’d come over forty miles.  I had a tiny map of the brevt route so I dug that out and saw that we weren’t supposed to go very near 49.  We had to go back about three miles and look for Kluttz.  It turned out that the Kluttz road sign was down, but the little 2435 that marks the old road designation was still posted.  

    Riding with Mike, I kept pace with him figuring that when the fast group picked us up, I could slow down and recover on my own.  Realizing that they were well ahead of us now, I decided I needed to slow a bit now if I hoped to finish.  I felt bad about the trouble I’d caused and told Mike, “You’re screwed now.  You don’t have a cue sheet and I don’t have the legs to ride as fast as you go.”  We both assumed it was going to get cold fast after the early sunset.  Mike’s a good sport and tried to make me feel better and we enjoyed a windy ride though beautiful countryside.

    At the next control, there was a copier so we got Mike his own cue sheet, but he rode with me on to the next control.  That control was in Landis and Mike said the town was named after Floyde when he won the Tour de France.  I opined that he hadn’t “won.”  

    Finally, we started bearing east and picking up a good tailwind.  We had four miles on Amity Hill Road where we had a good road surface, a slight down hill, and a good tailwind.  It was a breeze and most welcome.  We didn’t notice how much the wind had picked up until we rode past the Freightliner Truck plant in Cleveland.  The wind was right behind us as we came to a red light.  Waiting for the light, we had to hold our brakes to keep the wind from blowing us into the intersection.  When we made the turn, that wind became partly a crosswind.

    We talked about bicycles on and off and Mike, who was riding a Silk Hope from builder McLean Fonvielle, whom I wrote about two blogs ago, asked me which is the best bike I’ve ever owned.  I told him it is my yellow roadie and he said that his favorite is a frame built in 1958.  If he told me the name of the builder, I’ve forgotten already.  Shame on me.  I think the coolest things about hand built steel bicycles is that some of them can be just perfect for a specific rider.   In the old days, when everyone raced on steel bikes, the name on the down tube was the name of the sponsor, but often not the name of the man who built the frame and fork because some builders were better at determining what a rider needed than others were.

    After Woodleaf, Mike pulled slowly ahead and I didn’t see him again until the end of the ride.  I made some wind myself at that control and I was a lot more comfortable when I got back on the Red Randonneuse who, by the way, was behaving perfectly.  I enjoyed the last part of the ride.  The wind was almost always behind me and it was dying down anyway as the shadows got longer.  Riding through the trees, it seemed very dark, but out in the open, it was still a bright sunny day.  This is all farm country and it is very pretty; even in the middle of winter.  Some of the farms are postcard perfect and some of them are very, very old.

    Seven miles before the last control, I crossed the Yadkin River.  It is a good size river and the woods along its banks used to be the hunting grounds of Daniel Boone.  As I turned off Old 64, I switched on my lights and at the control, I took my wind shell off, donned my vest, and put the shell back on.  I also slung my obligatory reflector sash over my shoulder and strapped my ankle bands on.  Even though I had expected it to cool off after dark, with the wind dying down, I was comfy on the last 12 mile leg.  

    On the road into Lexington, I finally found some traffic and when I saw a traffic light ahead, I thought I was about to make my last turn onto State Route 8.  The cue sheet said R SR 8 E 10th Ave.  I expected to turn onto SR 8.  If I had looked more carefully, I would have seen the 10th Ave and assumed that meant that SR 8 would become 10th.  When I reached the light, I saw a sign that said 10th and that didn’t click with me.  I was looking for SR 8.  “Nuts,” I thought and went through the light wondering if 8th street would be SR 8. When I came to 7th Street, I stopped and looked more closely at the cue sheet and noted the 10th Street addendum so I turned around and rode back three blocks.

    I turned onto East 10th street, which a little later became SR 8.  I was about finished and pulled into the parking lot at 6:38.  I was the second to last rider with one DNF, but some of the other riders hadn’t finished long before me.  Mike was still there and a car with a bike on the back pulled out as I pulled in.  I stood around talking for a while, but started getting cold after a while so I strapped the faithful Red Randonneuse to the back of the car for a cold trip while I got into the warm part of the car and began my 35 mile trip home.

    Today, is much colder than yesterday and the wind has been howling all day.  If today was yesterday, I don’t think I would have bothered finishing.  As it is, I’ve bagged one of the first brevets of 2008.  I’m kind of a pioneer, like Daniel Boone and the rest of randonneurs who rode the Lexington 200k yesterday.  My thanks to Tony who sponsored the brevet.