Positivo Pages

29 April 2022

Wheel No. 29

I finally built up a replacement wheel for my Dura Ace rear hub (FH-9000). A new version of the same go-to H Plus Sons Archetype 32 hole rim, and Sapim CX-Ray spokes.  Why fix it if it ain't broke? The last time I replaced the rim, in 2019, I reused the spokes, so this time the makeover was primarily aimed at isntalling a new set of spokes, and the rim probably could have lasted awhile longer. I will replace the bearings in the hub as well, to make it a new wheel except for some of the longer lasting hub components.

A rim design that remains attractive, in my humble opinion.


Very modest wear on the Ti freehub body. More durable than most.

Proper wheelbuilding - rim spoke hole located directly over the hub label.


Time for a New Deuter Race Rucksack!

Back in the waning years of the first decade of the first century of this millennium, a long long time ago, I got a Deuter Race rucksack for use while cycling.

The Deuter Race is relatively small for a pack at 12 liters capacity, but large enough to carry anything I could need on a long single-day ride or, together with my Rixen Kaul rear under-seat bag or Ortlieb (or Guu Watanabe) front bag, on a 2-day brevet. The Deuter Race has an "Air Stripes" system of two meshed foam vertical sections that hold the pack slightly off my back and allow air circulation. This makes a huge difference in terms of me not overheating and not getting the pack covered with sweat. It also has an attached rain cover (hidden in a zippered compartment), and it is designed to accommodate a 2-liter hydration bladder and hose--great for a multi-day ride where some sections require me to carry more water than can fit in my two on-frame water bottles. There is a main compartment, two small zippered small pockets, one of which is on the top and designed for wallet, keys, brevet card, etc., and 2 open mesh external pockets.
The rucksack has proven durable. And despite trying a number of others before and after it, I have never found anything that works as well -- in terms of "fit" on my back, secure/snug but not constricting feeling while I ride (and shoulder straps long enough to work with my long torso and "barrel chest" figure, room for enough (but not too much) gear, adaptability for rain, etc. I put reflective tape on the rucksack so that I could wear it OVER a reflective vest on a brevet. Heck, on our last 600km ride, I pinned a small Audax reflective triangle (signifying "slow moving vehicle") on the back so I did not need to worry about whether my vest was inside or outside the rucksack. And, of course, I could ship the rucksack home with my rain gear and other unneeded items mid-ride without difficulty.  Professional reviewers agree.
But I did manage to damage (slightly -- still usable) one of the plastic clasps on the waist strap as I got it ready for shipping. And the rucksack is pretty severely discolored from the grease and grime of many years. When the rucksack arrived the next morning by Yamato Takkyubin, my wife suggested that maybe it was time to replace it. In fact, she was so enthusiastic about getting rid of the discolored, aging rucksack she offered to give me a new rucksack as a gift. How could I refuse?!
Old and New

The "Air Stripes" are a winning design feature.

What to get as a replacement? Another Deuter Race, of course! There have been some updates in the intervening years -- the shape seems slightly more rectangular, the straps and clasps are slightly different, and the wallet/key compartment seems noticeably larger and has much wider zippered top access (resolving one of the only flaws I can think of from the original design). Will this be the last cycling rucksack I ever need? Possibly. This time I may work a bit more at cleaning it regularly (yearly?) to keep its color. And maybe an attached reflective triangle will mean I don't need to cover it with reflective tape?

25 April 2022

Further Adventures in Rough Stuff

The bloody knee, hair style, and pipe fit well my image of an eccentric Brit.

Before there was mountain biking, or bike packing, or gravel bikes, or the Japan Odyssey, or the Transcontinental Race ... there was the Rough-Stuff Fellowship.

I recently stumbled across a Bicycling.com review of an amusing coffee table book about the British adventure cycling group, the "Rough-Stuff Fellowship", founded in 1965. 

One book was produced a few years back based upon the club's archive of nearly 20,000 photographs. The publication inspired members and former members to submit further photos, swelling the archive to 75,000, and necessitating a second book, Further Adventures in Rough Stuff, which I have just acquired. I highly recommend it as a gift for the cyclist who has everything.

I quickly realized that Positivo Espresso must up our game if we are to have true cycling "adventures". We barely carried our bikes at all on the snow-covered back approach to Mitsumine Shrine last month, and not OVER any real obstacles, just where the snow was too deep to keep pushing the bike along the roadway. And sure, this weekend we rode in the rain and dark, complying fully with Rule No. 9. But we have got a long way to go for bragging rights. Sure, we break things, but I have never ridden a tire with quite this style of patch:


And we need to increase the share of our rides that involve (1) rock climbing with a bike, (2) snow, (3) deep mud, or (4) water crossings.  (Only small versions of photos of photos below. Buy or borrow the book for the full sized full collection.)







We also need to master the "3 baguette" style.

24 April 2022

600km Azalea (つつじ) Ride on Route 11

Mt Fuji from the Okuzure Kaigan just SW of Shizuoka-shi

Jerome and I still needed a 600km brevet to complete our qualifying rides for Cascade1400. There were some interesting 600km rides sponsored by Kanto area Audax groups between now and early June, and we could always repeat the 600km Okitsu Classic (would be my fourth time?!) on May 23, but we wanted to finish qualifying as soon as practical. That way, we can plan our cycling with complete freedom rather than needing to check the box for an Audax event ... well, complete freedom except for work, family, and other commitments.

As we scoured the Audax club websites earlier this year, the best candidate seemed an April 23 Randonneur Tokyo event -- ride to Hamanako just west of Hamamatsu city in Shizuoka, go around the lake (30kms?) and then come back. The ride was relatively flat, many sections were familiar, no truly remote areas without support, and so it seemed to offer a pretty high chance of completion with relatively little ride-specific preparation. On the downside, it involved an all-too-familiar long trip out of/in to Tokyo, as well as coastal areas that are dense in population, and not as high a ratio of spectacular cycling areas/scenery as on my recent 200, 400, and 300 km brevets. 

Of course, when we planned our rides, last weekend was supposed to be a "rest" weekend between the 400k and our 600k. Instead, with the postponement of our March 300k, on April 16 we rode our toughest 300k in memory in between, leaving only four days to recover. 

The signup for this event was delayed several times, but when we inquired by email, Tsumura-san, the maestro at R-Tokyo, assured us that it would go forward in due course. When the event finally opened for registration, it was as an "N2" format brevet. This Covid-19 countermeasure format means that instead of all gathering in a group, riders have a significant window in which to start their rides, in this case a week ending at 6AM, Saturday April 23.  Since a rider need only declare his or her start shortly before heading off (using a Google Form that R-Tokyo set up), it offers maximum freedom to avoid bad weather and match schedules. But the N2 format also means it is easy to do an entire brevet and never meet another rider, especially if you do not start at 6 or 7AM on Saturday morning. That was my experience last Fall when I did an N2 400k event entirely alone. 

Jerome and I both decided we would do the ride on Thursday/Friday, April 21-22. That would offer a bit more of a simulation of what we will face during Cascade -- 5 days straight of long rides like these. And, I hoped, I would be "fresh" for work-related duties the following Monday. We each had obligations on Wednesday the 20th, (Jerome's was a family event that would go relatively late at night), and in the end Jerome needed to go to Osaka on Saturday afternoon for work-related meetings and a dinner. I did not feel bad about doing the ride on weekdays, as I have work during Golden Week this year.

I started checking the weather forecast on Monday. Rain was forecast for Thursday afternoon, evening, and into Friday morning in Shizuoka -- the middle half of our ride. And it looked as if the rain would be quite heavy at its peak. The forecast held steady. Well, Jerome could not push back our start by a day, so we would ride in the rain and look at it as training for Cascade, a ride I started and finished in the rain back in 2012, and where this time our first day route goes around the Olympic Peninsula, a rainforest that averages 150 days of rain each year (though June is a relatively low precipitation month).

I wanted to get out of Tokyo before the morning traffic, while Jerome could not get to sleep early, so needed a slightly later start. In the end, I started at 4AM and Jerome at 6AM. That gap meant we would probably end up riding together after he caught me at some point over the next 40 hours. Indeed, he caught up half way through the return leg and we ate lunch then rode the final 25% together.

3:40AM, crossing the Tamagawa at Marukobashi

Fenders on the Sky Blue Parlee -- for a non-sky blue ride!
24x7 dynamo lighting for this trip, so non-matching front and rear wheels still.

The weather was perfect heading out of town, and the roads were nearly empty for me as I rode the the start (leaving home at 3:15AM), and the first few hours on the course, until about 6AM. The route is a "standard" way for R-Tokyo brevets to head Southwest. First, a long stretch of Nakahara Kaido, then another one on Chogo Kaido, and finally, heading south around the western edge of Hiratsuka to hit the coastline at Oiso. From Oiso to Odawara, we take Route 1. Somehow, I would expect a trip by bicycle from Tokyo to Hamamatsu to involve a lot of riding on Route 1, but this was the only section, and one both familiar to us and very easy to ride. (Another bit between Yui and Okitsu follows a path alongside Route 1, but does not require actually riding on the road). 

Heading west through Kanagawa at first light

The Sagami River shortly after dawn

Finally, some traffic.

North of Hiratsuka as the route heads toward the coast


Hazy Mt Fuji in the distance

I stopped at Odawara briefly to get a snack and refill a water bottle from a spigot on the west side of the castle grounds. The scene was lovely at 7AM, only a few people around and flowering azaleas and wisteria.

At Odawara Castle

More Odawara


It was late enough now so that I experienced full traffic conditions on the next stretch, Route 135 along the coast. Heavy traffic, but at least it is another familiar stretch, and before I knew it I was in Atami.  I took another short rest by some azaleas at roadside, ate a half bagel I had brought from home, and started the climb. 

Azaleas and a brief rest in Atami

Just as I got to a really steep ramp as the road went around a sharp bend, I stood up on the pedals and applied a lot of torque ... and heard a big "ping" snapping sound from my rear wheel. A non-drive side spoke had broken. No worries. I had a spoke wrench and was able to adjust the tension of the two adjacent spokes on each side of the broken one so the rim was "true" again. Indeed, with a deep rim carbon wheel, the rim is stiff enough that I think you could probably ride it with a few broken spokes and not notice much. Then again ... I did see video of Wout van Aert and Christian La Porte's wheels pancaking catastropically last week on Paris-Roubaix, so better safe than sorry! I used to break spokes pretty regularly, even with decent attention to spoke tension. Maybe I am reverting to my former self as a cyclist? That is, indeed, my hope for the year, that I can regain most of the form I had in 2012-2017 or so. 

The cue sheet says to take Route 11

Anyway, the climb was painful ... but not as painful as other routes over the mountains above Atami. I think I will use this road again. And the tunnel at just over 400m elevation saves a lot of time and effort as compared to cresting Atami Pass.  After exiting the tunnel, there is a long descent to Kannami, at least 7-8 kms. The road is relatively straight and fast. After the first control point (PC) at a convenience store just above Kannami, the route cuts through Mishima/Numazu area. By now I was in heavy morning traffic, in a part of the world that is pretty much car dependent. Patience was required ... as well as some tactical maneuvering onto the sidewalk to pass lines of standing cars. 

Hazy Fuji in the distance as we slog through Numazu area.

My conference call stop.

Approaching Okitsu Kenko Land -- regular Audax Kanagawa Start/Goal location

I made it out to the coast and almost to Fuji-shi when I needed to stop 20-30 minutes for a work-related call. I headed into the wooded area and up a stairs to the top of the tsunami wall. The sea and sky were hazy, the boundary of the two indistinct ... reminding me a bit of some of Hiroshi Sugimoto's seascape photos at the Enoura Observatory. Anyway, the call was a bit longer than I hoped, but I did need some rest now 6 1/2 hours from the start, and felt I could spare the time as I was already 130kms into the course and done with the only significant climb of the first half! Jerome reported that he had stopped for breakfast at a Gusto, so he was not yet making up too much time on me. 

The route took more familiar territory as I rode through Fuji City, Yui, Okitsu, Shimizu, and then to a PC at the foot of the Miho peninsula. From there it was on down the Ichigo Line (Strawberry Line). This is a very exposed stretch of road along the ocean, so I was relieved not to be facing any significant headwind. Then it was along the south edge/oceanside, of Shizuoka City, through the Okuzure Kaigan area where the road climbs about 100 meters above the crashing waves, then down into Yaezu City.

Still dry, Okuzure Kaigan

Yaezu's harbor area

The R-Tokyo route turned left along the fishing harbor and hugged the coastline on local roads -- an improvement over the main road I have taken more often between Yaezu and Omaezaki. Everywhere here, as elsewhere, there were azaleas in early bloom. Again I took a short rest -- pulling into a parking lot for a park, attracted by the signage "Discovery Park". Again, I could walk up onto the tsunami levy and this time even enjoy a rest on a bench. 200kms done!

The coast at Discovery Park Yaezu

Randonneur snack

A few drops of rain started to hit me as I left Discovery Park. Within another 10 minutes, I put on my rain jacket.  15-20 minutes later I put on my rain pants and changed to my Gore tex rain socks. And by the time I got to the Omaezaki checkpoint (km 227), the rain was steady. Jerome had been gaining on me ... but he also had stopped for a work call. I enjoyed a snack of 7-11 pasta with cream sauce, and pushed on. 

Steady rain then dark from here ... so no more Thursday photos. ... except

I have usually taken National Route 150 along this stretch of coastline -- Omaezaki, then the southern edges of Kikugawa, Kakegawa, Fukuroi, and Hamamatsu. So it was good that the R-Tokyo route is a parallel road just inland.  The rain strengthened as I rode west. My lower half was soaked -- the rain pants apparently useless -- but my upper half still somewhat dry and at least it was not too cold. I was glad to have fenders both front and rear wheel. I stopped once at a pedestrian underpass that sheltered me a bit from the rain, where I could eat an onigiri and call Jerome to check in. 

The route travels along the coast south of Hamamatsu, and I had managed to hit Thursday afternoon rush hour traffic as cars zoomed by me along one particularly crowded stretch. There were lots of signs for central Hamamatsu, but no city. The most obvious landmarks were some hotels -- "Dior Seven", and "Bel Grave". They were obviously love hotels, lights lighting up the evening sky, beckoning couples. There were also some golf driving ranges, huge nets along each side, but they lacked signs or features to distinguish one from another to the untrained eye. I think people around here probably give directions like "take a right turn just before Dior Seven, proceed to the second traffic light after Bel Grave, then another right turn." Anyway, Jerome's son now works for the real Dior, so he snapped a photo of the hotel just in case the real Dior thinks it is worthy of a trademark infringement lawsuit.

Finally, I arrived at the 281km 7-11 PC. It was now raining cats and dogs. Even the area just along the front of the store, under the overhang, was too wet to sit. Jerome was still way behind me. I told him I would push on to the hotel, near km 320. 

And thus began what should have been the highlight of the ride -- a chance to go around Hamanako (Lake Hamana) by bicycle. But by now it was dark, and the rain was hard. And the wind from the NNW was straight in my face. The next 20 kms seemed to take forever, pushing into the wind and rain. After a few kms there was very little traffic, at least. 

At last I reached the northern tip of the lake and the route turned toward the west then southwest, with a wind from the rear right. I felt like a sailor on a boat that had come about and swung toward a broad reach. Finally progress was easy. But the next PC was not a convenience store, it was an unmanned and nearly unmarked train station. As I cycled up a slope, I finally saw a hut that might be a station on the left side of the road. I dismounted and walked over. The platform showed a mark "Sunza" as the name.  I pulled out my brevet card/sheet and saw that Sunza was not the PC. Back on the bike and a few kms further along when the highway again neared the train tracks, I finally pulled off again at the correct station. The station waiting room was empty, but at least the door was open so I could go in to take out my card and get my smartphone camera ready for a "proof of passage photo" as instructed. 

late Thursday ... proof of passage photo

The route soon turned off the main highway and followed a small road along the lake for some kilometers. There was dark vast water on the left, water on the road, and water falling from the sky. I could imagine that this was a nice place to have a vacation home, or to visit and stay in one of a few hotels or resorts I passed. I will need to go back when it is light out and not raining.

After another 30-45 minutes on back on the bike, in the wet, I stopped at another convenience store. I asked if the hotel, Route Inn, was ahead. The clerk confirmed that yes, it was not far, and was visible from the road. I got some food to eat once I got in my hotel room -- it would be after 9PM by my arrival, so I could not count on a restaurant being open, nor would I want to "waste" time I could use for sleep hunting for food. 15 minutes later I arrived at the hotel. I apologized for being soaking wet as I trampled through the lobby. The man and woman at the front desk ... immediately handed me a bath towel so I could wipe down. Ahh. I asked if there was a place I could keep my bicycle dry and secure for the night. They said "if it is a road bike, you can take it to your room".  I was a bit surprised. "It is really wet, and a bit dirty".  They said it was just fine. Wow. Very different from the reaction one would have gotten at a Route Inn or similar ten years ago! I guess the local cycling promotion activities around Japan (Hamanako had lots of signs for a bike route around the lake, similar to Ibaraki, and Izu, Shimanami Kaido, and other places) has had an impact on the hotels.

Jerome was still 90 minutes behind. After a hot bath and some food, as I was getting ready to sleep, he called me reporting trouble finding the train station PC. His GPS unit had gone haywire so he was navigating using ridewithgps on his smartphone screen. I calmed him down and got him to switch the phone to Google Maps, where he could find the exact location of the station, not far away. I lay down in bed and was immediately asleep. It was already 1030PM. I had planned to be on the road at 130, but decided to push it back to 2AM (with a generous 30 minutes to get dressed and out the door) as the rain was not supposed to stop until 2-3AM.

I woke after an hour, then again was out immediately. My alarm woke me at 130AM. The rain seemed to have let up, but not entirely. There was a text message from Jerome -- "call me when you wake up" -- that continued to say he would probably not join but leave later. I called and woke him. He had just gone to sleep ... said something about getting a bit lost, about drinking a large beer with his food after arriving at the hotel and said he would sleep more and follow later.

Very very early Friday, somewhere out there is Hamamatsu, or maybe Iwata

I stowed my rain pants, dressed in my clothes that had been hanging but were still very wet, and headed out. The roads were quiet, and the next PC was about 12kms away, at km 331. It turned out to be the same 7-11 as the 281km PC. By now the rain had stopped entirely. In a few hours, with the morning sun, the roads would be dry! And it was warm enough so the weather was no longer a factor.  Before long, I saw the Bel Grave and the Dior Seven, still lit up even in the wee hours.

I called Jerome at 330AM. He answered immediately and said he was preparing to leave the hotel. So again a 90 minute head start. The stretch to Omaezaki was flat and I could roll at a decent speed without much effort. I reached the Omaezaki PC just after 5AM. A bit of a tailwind heading NE, and another rest at Discovery Park around 645AM -- this time Mt Fuji visible in the distance! There were lots of Mt. Fuji views today, almost as many as there were azalea. 

Descent after Omaezaki PC

On the road to Yaezu

More Fuji

More azaleas

Back at Discovery Park

I passed the Okuzure Kaigan again, just before 8AM, and the Shizuoka checkpoint around 830AM. The Ichigo Line wind was blowing and had shifted, but at least it was not a direct, full-on headwind.


Dramatic, crashing surf all the way from here to Ichigo Line

Jerome was catching up, and we agreed to try and get an early lunch together in Fuji-shi or Numazu. There was a Gusto family restaurant (our standby) directly on the route. He was flying now, and was less than 30 minutes behind me, and closed most of that gap by the time I crossed the Fujikawa. I arrived at the restaurant only 5-10 minutes ahead of him, and we rode the last 150kms together.

I was a bit worried about the time limit for this event. By stopping at the hotel from 9PM to 2AM, I had lost all my "savings" and placed myself in a bit of a time deficit. The R-Tokyo organizers had provided us maximum flexibility by not imposing interim time limits at the PCs.  I had 200kms to go with 13 hours left -- plenty of time. But coming out of Gusto after 11AM, we had under 9 hours for nearly 150 kms, including the Atami climb.

Passing through Numazu, we saw ... at least 4 riders headed the outbound leg, including Tsumura-san himself. They had used common sense and started Friday morning, after the rain, and were enjoying the lovely, even warm day!  (Update: I heard later from Tsumura-san that they faced constant headwinds in the afternoon ... that "defeated" him. So we actually may have made the smart move by riding into the impending rainstorm?)

Azaleas everywhere!

Back through Numazu

We were both hot by the time we reached the Kannami PC, which was a different convenience store down nearer to the town.  At least we had caught up with the "time limit" from our lunch break and were again well "ahead" of the notional cut-off time as we entered the PC, so a 15km per hour pace would mean we finished in time. 

But we dawdled at this PC. And when we were about to leave, I suggested to Jerome that I could save a lot of weight and heat if I put my rain gear and cold weather gear plus some other unneeded items in my rucksack and sent it on by Yamato. We went in the convenience store. After about 5 minutes of attempted discussion, it was clear that Lawson only handles Japan Post, and their only relevant service "Yu Pack" would not take a bare rucksack. 

We finally left and headed to start the climb. Maybe if we were lucky we would find a place to ship my rucksack (and Jerome's -- he had adopted the idea).  About 150 meters ahead ... there was a 7-11. But it was still a challenge to ship the items. The arubaito working there had never done it before, it seemed. What were the dimensions of a shapeless rucksack? Would I buy a plastic bag to put it in so the straps were not loose? I wanted to just throw some money at him with the address label and run out the door. I said "we are in a big hurry, so I am happy to pay a bit extra and don't need it measured exactly." He got the message, charged me JPY 1750, and handed me the receipt. Jerome was still trying to have the same discussion with the other clerk, and I said I would ride ahead.... I knew he would catch me on the long climb ahead. We had burned in total at least 20 minutes trying to send our bags, after the 20 minute rest stop that preceded it. Now there was not a moment to lose!

Actually, I made it up the climb I thought in pretty good shape. It was shorter than I had thought, and not nearly as steep as the East side, of course. Jerome caught up with me only after I had gone through the 2km tunnel at the top and was starting the descent. 

My rear brake cable had been acting up a bit and seemed stuck somewhere at times  ... and early on the descent it snapped entirely. Oh well, 75-80% of braking power is the front brake anyway. But this was a steep winding Atami descent, and I would be sitting on the lone brake, heating up my front rim. Now was NOT the time for an accident, or a heat-induced burst tire tube. (That also has happened to me before a few times when riding aluminum rim clinchers ... it happened back when I was breaking lots of spokes.)  So I took it slow going down the hill, and even stopped once for a rest to let the rim cool. ... I also noticed that my front brake pads were getting ... very thin. If needed, I could swap the now-useless rear ones into the front, but I hoped the current pads would make it through all the crazy hills on Nakahara Kaido.

We reached the Tokyo metropolitan area just as Friday evening rush hour was in full swing. At times we had to ride past lines of standing cars and trucks. Lots of trucks. Anyway, we made it safely to the goal at 730PM with about 30 minutes to spare. At least it was enough time so that, once past Odawara, I knew there was enough time without too much worry. Jerome, starting 2 hours later, had plenty of time.

We celebrated with steak dinner and beer at the nearest place to the finish line. Then home to sleep.

In total, I rode 633kms. Not bad. Then again, for a course like this, I would have expected to ride it in under 36 hours, not 39 1/2 hours. Sure, this ride was only four days after the monster 300k, and neither of us had enough sleep the night before. We rode in rain (and full rain gear) for six hours (Jerome for more). And the hotel stop was 5 hours, the work call 30 minutes, the Gusto lunch at least 45, the Kannami dawdling another 20+ longer than expected, and the two mechanicals, one of which required extra caution riding the last 100kms. But there is relatively minimal climbing on this route (for Japan -- "only" 3660m elevation gain total), no gravel, no serious headwinds, no searing heat, and so I was expecting to do it several hours faster. There is still more work to be done before Cascade. But at least I am done with the qualifiers! And done with my first 600k since 2019! And my body experienced an intense two-day effort while still recovering from the last brevet, or maybe the last two brevets. So I think I am on the way.

The R-Tokyo route can be found here on RidewithGPS.

18 April 2022

5391m of climbing on a beautiful 300km brevet in the Ibaraki Hills

Sun breaks through during rain. Like a sign from heaven!

Spectacular countryside this time of year!

RAMAX and rider rest

Jerome and I needed to complete an official 300km brevet as part of our qualification for Cascade1400 in June. 

Jerome had planned to join a Chiba 300km brevet back in late February or early March. That Chiba 300 was postponed at the last minute due to a snow forecast. He rode it on his own anyway, as there was not any actual snow accumulation ... but it did not count toward qualification.

I had already done a 300k in November 2021 (the brevet year starts November 1) ... but when I checked with the organizer of Cascade1400, Susan O., she told me that they really wanted us to do the qualifying rides in the calendar year 2022, not the brevet year 2022. And why wouldn't I do a 300km event anyway, for preparation?  She helpfully noted that I could substitute a longer one for a shorter one. Yes, I needed to prepare. In fact, I REALLY feel a need to prepare thoroughly this time. I have a nasty habit recently of not completing 1000km+ events, I am not in the kind of cycling shape that I was back when I was doing lots of Audax, and I am not getting any younger. So I am highly motivated to train well for Cascade1400. I think that this ride, and PBP 2023, will make or break me for whether I want and am able to keep doing these rides into my 60s.

But I wanted to train by riding lovely places as and when it suited me, rather than slogging in and out of urban areas, eating convenience store food, riding in inclement weather, etc. Audax rides cannot take closed rindos, for example. And they cannot adjust to the weather forecast in real time.

Anyway, we signed up for a Saitama 300km event in March .... But it was postponed due to Covid-19 "stop the spread" countermeasures. We rode to Mitsumine Shrine instead -- a better choice as we had never taken that route, and good for training, but not a qualifier.

Jerome and I each did separate 200k events, he one in Kanagawa, me the Nishi Izu ride (that met my "no urban sprawl" criteria extremely well ... but involved several hours of riding in heavy rain and dark).

So we needed an alternative 300km (or longer) ride. We had already signed up for (and did complete) the 400km Chiba ride around Boso Peninsula on April 9, and we are planning to join the Randonneur Tokyo 600km event for April 23. So it was a matter of finding something held on this weekend (April 16-17), or waiting until the last moment in May to qualify. This is flechè weekend in Japan for many Audax clubs ... the only 300km ride in the Kanto region was another Chiba Audax event. But it was a Chiba event not held in Chiba ... The ride started from Lake Kasumigaura in Ibaraki and went north, entering the hills at Kasama city and taking two "wide area agricultural roads", the Beef Line and the Green Furusato Line, all the way to Kita-Ibaraki on the coast ... then back again. See the course here.

The course looked attractive -- low traffic roads through the hills -- with few traffic lights. I remembered the Beef Line from a ride in the wee hours of the morning on a freezing cold 400km brevet we did in 2015. I also had ridden it during a 200km Utsumoniya-based event in 2010, one of my first Audax rides. As with the 400km Chiba event last weekend, and the 200km Nishi Izu (AJ Nishi Tokyo) one two weeks earlier, this was another chance to start and finish a ride beyond the edges of greater Tokyo's urban sprawl, avoiding the slogging that cycling in and out of Tokyo entails.

It did look as if there would be a lot of climbing. AJ Chiba had ranked it 4 out of 5 stars for "difficulty". We signed up quickly, as many Chiba events fill up within days or hours of registration opening.

We need not have worried about it filling up. In the end, the list of registered riders had only 16 names on it, out of 50 slots.  Why? Well, the start location is a long way off the beaten path for most Tokyo-based riders--no way to take a train to Tsuchiura and join the event without riding 20+kms to the start, and only one small lodging option I could see anywhere nearer. So this event would be pretty much limited to people who could show up via car, or who don't mind a lot of extra riding at odd hours before and after an event.

But somehow the location did not stop the full complement of 50 riders from signing up for a parallel Chiba Audax 400km event held the same day from the same start location! So why was the 300km event not more popular?

So many of these signs ... it was almost a joke.

I looked more closely at the Ride with GPS route of the event. It showed that the course has 7639 meters of elevation gain. That little detail, and the 4-star difficulty rating, explained the small number of registered riders! I recalled that Chiba also holds a 200km "gravel" event on Boso peninsula, one that looks extremely challenging and involves riding some barely passable streambeds and washed out roads -- a course suitable for the Rough Stuff Fellowship ... but that must be completed within standard Audax time limits (13hr 30min for a 200km ride). AJ Chiba never let the absence of high mountains in Chiba prefecture get in the way of a really difficult ride.

This is the elevation profile for the 300km ride via RidewithGPS:

Of course, RidewithGPS overstates elevation gain, especially on a course with tunnels. We knew it could not be anywhere near 7639 meters of climbing ... that would be a positively Himalayan climb! I looked on Google Maps at the hilltop sections ... and could find a few tunnels that would save elevation, but fewer and shorter than I would expect. The course never exceeds 560m elevation -- no real mountains -- but the middle 200km would be very hilly and very hard. I was guessing that we would have around 5000m of climbing -- something more Andean than Himalayan. The only time I have done that much climbing in a day's cycling ... was on the first day of the SR600 Fuji, or the first half of an aborted attempt at the SR600 Nihon Alps. Those were very hard days, and none since in 2017.
It looked as if the approximately 30 km stretch of the Beef Line would be just a warm-up, and the real hills would come along the Green Furusato Line, a nearly 70 km stretch that led to the turn around point in Kita Ibaraki.
Anyway, I was awake by 4AM, picked up Jerome at 5AM, and we approached the start area by car shortly before 630AM ... only to see a line of riders akready leaving. Oh no ... were they letting everyone go early, THAT much early? We asked the first person we saw in an Audax reflective vest ... and he told us they were doing the (much easier - 2 stars) 400km event, which had a 630AM start group. Ahh. I did not even realize the two brevets started at the same location. Whew.
We set up our bikes, left the car, and went to the start area. As we were setting up, Jerome suggested he would use his fenders. I told him he would not need them ... though it had been raining at night, it was dry now, and the forecast was that light rain would be only 30-40% likely for the first hour or two of the ride, then we would enjoy dry conditions, with sunshine in the afternoon and clear skies at night. I was more concerned about the stiff wind from the North forecast throughout the day or at least throughout our northward first half.
Just as the ride briefing ended, it started to rain again. Jerome wanted to go back up the hill to the car for his fenders. I told him not to worry. ... but my reassurance lacked confidence. It did rain very lightly for the first hour of the ride. Fortunately, it was never enough to get us really wet, nor to cause any water to build up on the road (that would require a fender).
We started out heading along Lake Kasumigaura, crossed a bridge and turned NNW. We found ourselves in a headwind even before reaching the bridge. But the wind was a factor only for the first 15-20 kms, as it dissipated further inland and in the mountains. Jerome was riding faster than me ... he started with a pull, then eventually I lost contact with him.
Soon after, a taller Japanese rider passed me going just slightly faster than I was. I jumped on his rear, and soon noticed that another rider had joined and was just behind me. Eventually we reached a red light and I could ask our leader his name -- Ken(taro) Eshita. I stayed on his rear the rest of the way to PC1 at km 42.6. Jerome had arrived 5-10 minutes earlier and was there waiting. Jerome, Ken, and I headed out of the PC together with another rider whose bike had at least 80mm deep rims on its wheels, front and rear. ... really more appropriate for a track event or windless TT than for this kind of Audax ride, he said. We stayed together until the entrance to the Beef Line, 7-8 kms further on. This started with a nasty short 10%+ uphill stretch. Eshita-san mused "I wonder how many times we will need to do that?"  I had an answer ready -- one hundred. He seemed surprised. I said, well we just climbed at most 50 meters. The total climbing on the sections ahead, ridden in both directions, is around 5000 meters, so 50m x100 times. He didn't flinch. 
Jerome and Eshita-san both went ahead while I took it easy. I think Jerome made it to the second PC, between the Beef Line and the Green Furosato Line, around 10 minutes ahead of me. We again headed out together and he quickly powered ahead. I did not want to consume the energy it would take even to draft off of him. 
On the Beef Line





Jerome fades into the distance ...

Somehow, the route seemed more difficult going north than returning to the south, despite our increased level of fatigue. I don't think it was the wind ... barely noticeable in the mountains. We each felt this way, and agreed it was mostly psychological. Going North, we had no idea how hard the ride would be nor how much time would be required. We only knew that the climbs got longer and longer, until the high points 125 and 135 kms into the 150km leg, before a long descent into Kita-Ibaraki. Also, going North we were uncertain whether we would be able to complete the ride within the time limit. What if it was really 5500, 6000, or 6500 meters of gain ... closer to the RidewithGPS total? There were lots of seesaw up and downs apparent on the RidewithGPS profile, and they did look real -- no tunnels after a few kilometers into the Green Furusato Line. If we had used anywhere near 1/2 of our 20 hours to get to Kita-Ibaraki, it would be foolishly optimistic to think we could turn around and complete it a second time as fast or faster. In the end, Jerome got to Kita-Ibaraki 8 hours after our start, and I did so 34 minutes later, so he had 12 hours and I 11 hrs 26 minutes for the return trip. 

On the return leg, we each knew we had enough "savings" in the time bank to clear all the time limits. 

Looking down as we start to climb on the Green Furusato Line


Heading South later in the day.

Looking down toward the coast.

Support for Ukraine displayed by the Ibaraki road construction team?!

Unlike the Chiba ride last weekend, this time I had no stomach issues, I remained well-hydrated and well-fueled. We started with headwinds and a bit of rain, but most of the way had ideal weather. As in 2015, the mountains were chilly -- a roadside thermometer in the hills showed 6 degrees C (43F) just after 6PM, while still daylight. But despite the lack of cloud cover -- in fact, we had glorious moon lighting -- it was just enough warmer as we headed south, toward lower elevation, that my clothing, especially my Q36.5 Amfib gloves, were sufficient. And despite plenty of stomping on the pedals on all those climbs, I had no "hot foot" issues (having added a thin gel insert to my shoes on top of the insole around the ball of each foot). Yes, this was a very hard course, and I did pull off to the side of the road twice in between PCs to rest for 5 minutes or more -- once going and once coming back. But I never felt the kind of exhaustion that often hits mid-ride on an event that takes more than 12 hours in the saddle. 

The RAMAX handled very nicely -- it is a refined, comfortable ride, and gave me a very stable feeling on the fast descents! 
Darkness fell after the first major climb and descent on the return trip, still 100+kms left ahead. And the night riding gave everything I love about such trips in Japan. Most of the time I was entirely alone on the road -- no one in sight in front or behind, no cars or trucks. The sky was clear, the stars were out, and a very bright, almost full moon rose at dusk and reached high above a few hours later. On many stretches, I felt as if I could almost ride without a front light on the bike even as I accelerated down the hills.

The moon rises ... just after my first big descent on the return leg.

Moonlight photo.

Jerome finished at midnight, after 17 hours. 
I followed at 1:31AM, 91 minutes behind, in 18 hrs and 31 minutes. 
According to the organizers, in the end 19 registered for the ride. 4 did not start (DNS), 3 did not finish (DNF), and the remaining 12 completed. Eshita-san finished in 17:30.  I was one of the slower riders -- no surprise given my weight and the elevation gain, just physics. But 6 out of 12 were in the 18-19 hour range, 2 in 17-18, 2 in 16-17, the fastest at 13:32, and second in 14:57. 
In the end, after uploading my GPS track to Strava, it shows 5391 meters of elevation gain.
That just tops either Day 1 or Day 2 of the SR600 Fuji, also as uploaded to Strava. So this ride might be the most climbing I have done in a single day, ever?  My time was not fast, but I had more than an hour of "extra" time at each PC, so never felt rushed. Indeed, on the way back, I could even enjoy the climbs as I knew the route and was confident that I would finish.
And if I think back to the 300km I did with Jerome in October last year that had 1800m less climbing, but took 30 minutes longer, I can be satisfied with my progress. 
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It is a thing these days (called "Everesting") for younger, lighter, stronger riders to go up and down a hill repeatedly in a single ride until they have climbed as high as Mt. Everest, 8848 meters gain. A young Australian cyclist did this on his home hill, and set up a website as it became a thing. Apparently others could not resist.  I have never been tempted.
Well, I think we need a new challenge for over-50 cyclists.
The Nevada Del Ruiz challenge? That is a volcano in Colombia Elev. 5389m. Perfect height. Then again, 23,000 people died when it erupted in 1985, so maybe not ideal as a name for a challenge. Sure, people die on Everest every year, but most of them assume the risk by trying to climb it. 
The Mt. Foraker challenge? At elevation 5308m it is close, and it is the second highest peak in the Alaskan range, neighbor to the higher Denali. But who was Foraker? A politician from Ohio, who apparently had a passion for racial justice.
There are dozens of candidates in the 5000 meter range. 
Or another idea -- we make it a challenge open only to those at least 50 yrs old. If 50, you must climb the equivalent of Mt. Kilimanjaro -- 5891m. Then subtract 100 meters for each year of age. And limit the effort to 20 hours. So our ride would qualify for anyone 55 or older. Perfect for Jerome, and a decent fit for me. The Kilimanjaro Challenge! I like the ring of it. Let's see, if I still want to do the Kilimanjaro Challenge at age 70, I would need to do a ride of 3891 meters elevation gain in under 20 hours. At age 75, 3391m. At age 85, 2391m. At some point the two lines of what is achievable, and what meets the challenge, will cross. But not soon, I hope.