Ferry–Roubaix

Paris–Roubaix is a one-day professional bicycle road race in northern France near the Belgian frontier. Famous for rough terrain and cobblestones (setts), it is one of the 'Monuments' or Classics of the European calendar. It has been called the Hell of the North, and a Sunday in Hell.

Ferry–Roubaix is a one-day extended tour through central VA crossing the James via a drawbridge and ferry with a unofficial race after the Robaix sign is passed in the Chickahominy swamp, totaling ~125 miles. Famous for rough launguage, 40 ounces, the James Town Ferry, and gravel stones (shetts), it is an 'Homage un Coq' or a Classique of the Virginia calendar. It has been called the annual two wheeled wander through the Shires of Kent and Surrey and York, the Counties of Prince George and King James and King Charles, The Burg of King William and his queen Mary per the Rooster.

“When hurt is the only thing that will ease the pain, that is Ferry-Roubaix.”
A quote from the great Rooster himself, Fantastique!

Bonjour
The day started early at the Haines Châteaux as we loaded our vélocipède à deux roués into Le Truck using a fine wedging plank of pin.


We were soon en route to the spring residence of le coq some 37 kilomètres east. A fine country breakfast of bacon and moufflets awaited the hungry participants. Garcon, Coffee!




From New Kent to Charles City County
The morning air was still pretty cold as we began the day rolling through the country side. Like any good European roadway, we negotiated two carrousel manège on our way to the Benjamin Harris Bridge across the mighty James. A state trooper was waiting at one roundabout and waited to megaphone Toddy G with “single file”.

I found my inner road bike roots and soon settled into the peloton for a few good pulls. I guess DNA from French ancestors on my mother’s side of the family can’t be denied.


Toddy G reaches for a snack, perhaps a croissant?


Our first river crossing loomed in the distance as we approached the Benjamin Harris drawbridge. The steel mesh grate of the vertical lifting span induced a space/time warp captured by my camera obscura!




South of the River
Upon reaching route 10 we stopped at a filing station. Many a rider took advantage of the chance to dispose of fluids and refill. A 650 milli litre bottle of Miller was rumored to make an appearance. And oui, er…, we were off!

Powered by hops and barley, Metro pulled many a mile in fine form. The tour took us through pleasant country roads nestled between the river and le voie publique, known to locals as route 10.

Stopping at a corner store in Surry let every one replenish supplies, gator aid, water, snacks, a 22oz of Modelo, and a bottle of Sam.

Ferry tale
After an extended tour of the fine lands of the south side we arrived at the landing of the namesake of the tour. Ahoy! The Ferry awaits, let us embarque on the good ship Pocohontas!

The peloton weaved past all the awaiting cars and motorcycles.


Whoa, says those motorcyclist, Plassman don’t care.


On the Ferry bicyclist are first in…last out.


We had to lash our bikes to the sides of the vessel…



And then a hike a bike, Ferry style…





Colonial Route Panoramique
Once off the ferry, we skirted the James river on our way to Colonial Williamsburg via the Colonial Parkway. The parkway surface was characterized as “rattling your tater hole” by one of our fine participants. The unmarked pavement is made of rounded "river gravel" set in a concrete-mix, providing an unusual earth tone color.

Café and entrés
After pausing on a bridge to collect our rank and file, we made our way to café Aromas. The venue was a bit of a zoo on a truly nice Sunday afternoon of this spring.



A sweaty bunch of cyclist get a little extra elbow room in a café full of typical colonial tourist. Whoa… says a girl waiting for her latte, as I ask the barista to fill my water bottles. Plassman don’t care.

Rough Road Ahead
The peloton rolled out of Williamsburg and headed for York River park. We approached the entrance to Camp Perry and peeled off to the left down a causeway that would turn out to be a bit douteux.

The recent spring thunderstorms had blown down a ton of debris into the shoulder we were riding on. Making matters worse were numerous folds in the asphalt shoulder. Pretty soon the riding became nasty ass as we bounced on sticks, pine cones, and pavement cracks. Mountain bike skills kicked in and it was not so bad, just smack that road right back.

We turned off pavement for our first gravel road section that took us to the York River. One sharp right hand corner tested the bike handling skills of many. We blazed by some startled folks who were on mountain bikes. Once we got to the river, Scottie D caught me and led the charge. A surprise drainage culvert came up way too fast and required me to bunny hop into the transition and catch some air on the way out.

On to Roubaix
The tour stopped at a sign that would have you think we were in France. A motley crew indeed!


And so it begins!
After 80 miles of touring and a few more miles of pavement, we arrived at the gravel road that signified the start of the unofficial 40+ mile race. I was feeling pretty spry as we hit the gravel and I jumped on it. Tom Haines joined chase and the Rooster was hot on my tail.

I put in a nice hard effort and shook most of the Peleton, but Tom was steadily pulling a gap on me. We were riding our road bikes on the gravel faster than can stand the test of common sense.

Transitioning back to road, Mr. Haines lit the engine that turned him into a cruise missile. I struggled to keep him in sight, but he steadily pulled away. Tom and I were out front with no one in sight from the rear. Some seriously strong winds were sapping the juice out of both of us, each of us riding separately in our own breakaways.

Other riders were wiser and teamed up to pace line. Eventually I would get overtaken about 2/3 of the way to the end. Tom remained in the lead and would have been the 1st to finish were it not for a round about directional faux pas. He came in second by seconds.

I was glad to find the finish a few riders, and a few minutes later. My legs were officially french roasted. The rest of the cyclist all put in strong finishes and we celebrated with a fine spread of open faced sandwiches and excellent home brew.

A special thanks to the Rooster and Scottie D for hosting the event and marking the course

Cheers, Jeff.

~ Fini ~

Sneak Peak

It looks like the team bikes are almost ready to be delivered. It will be great seeing them debut at the MMM next month.  Enjoy the sneak peak.

Camp Hilbert #1

It was a dark, cold morning and a bone-chilling mist crept through the forest.
Once again, the DPR clan set out early in search of dragons to slay. This time the battle would be on the clan's home turf...

syke.

This is just going to be a regular non-fiction race write-up.
Or rather, my rookie-racer write-up.

Damon and I pulled in to Camp Hilbert Sunday morning at about 8 am for Hilbert Race #1. David Reid must have gotten there at 6am for some warm-up laps or something because he had the very first parking spot.
This was my first race of the season, first race with Design Physics, and the first actual xc race i'd done since i was probably 15 years old. So I walked around nervously for the hour leading up to the race trying to act like I knew what was about to go down.

The Enduro racers started at 9, and the under 35 Sport class starting siren went off at 9:02. Not really knowing how my legs were going to hold up, or what my strategy should be, I figured I might as well start strong and made my way towards the front before we hit the woods. I think i was in the top 12 or so once we were on the singletrack and we immediately hit the back end of the Enduro riders. The first lap was pretty much chaos from there on out. I kept leapfrogging places with a few different guys as we passed the enduro riders. I couldn't believe that i hadn't seen any crashes yet with all the full speed, through the bushes and over logs passing that was going on, when i hear some kind of cougar yowling from around the next bend. Actually a younger guy, maybe 13 or 14, was hugging a tree and his bike was 10 feet down the trail. Two guys stopped to help him, so I kept going. I never heard what happened, so i hope he was ok.

As the field stretched out and the passing died down, I ended up riding almost the entire second lap by myself. Eventually I spotted another Design Physics jersey up ahead and caught up to Paul, who I'm pretty sure was whistling Madonna's 'Like a Virgin.' He was pootling along, I guess it's hard to whistle and ride fast, so I stuck with him and caught my breath for a few minutes. I felt like i had pushed it pretty hard up to that point and was a little worried about burning out. Despite slowing down for a minute, the second lap turned out to be my fastest.

Making the turn onto the third lap, I saw that a guy with a Carytown Bike Company jersey was coming up behind me. I did my best to hold him off for almost the entire lap. I even crashed hard on that gnarly pile of roots down along the creek and managed to stay out of sight. Toward the end I caught up to some guys that, based on their pace, were riding enduro, and I kept trying to find the legs to pass them, but just didn't have the guts for it. I wish I had bit down and made the move though, because with not much more than a mile left, Carytown passed all of us and made me feel like a pansy.

I finished just in time to see some of the other classes start and almost get run over by Jeff going for the hole-shot into the woods. Despite feeling pretty burned at the end of the ride, I know I could have given it a little more, especially on that last lap, and I'm really looking forward to knowing a little more about myself next race.

Post-race, Hinmaton was flipping burgers with his phone, Roger was flopping cheese with both hands and Jason was counting cash like Young Money. The burgers, dogs, pasta salad, cookies, etc. were really excellent. Thanks to all those that contributed to the feast. All the other race attendees definitely appreciated it too, the grill crew could harldy keep up with demand.

It seemed like almost the whole team hung around till all the events were over, drinking beer, chowing on burgers and talking about bikes, races, gnarly crashes, excuses for being slow, and how long its taking to get those dang Stijl frames done.

Everyone that was out there get's a huge high-five because Design Physics|Stijl Racing has now bumped up to second place overall in the VORS standings.
Nolan, Damon, Jeff and Joe all finished second in their respective classes. A lot of top ten finishes for the rest of the team as well.
Official results are here: http://www.runriderace.com/chrs-1-results-2011/

There a ton of photos on RunRideRace's flickr (High fives to RunRideRace for such a great event too!)
and on the facebookz: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Virginia-Off-Road-Series/229702229900

A Dragon's Tale

Epic – A journey where the task is grand, the outcome difficult to predict, and surviving may be in question.

2011 Dragon's Tale MTB Race
The journey started early for the DPR clan. My cursed rooster roused me with a shrill heckle a few winks shy of 4:00am. I managed to rouse my humors with a bowl of porridge and a sip of java as black as the sky.

Three would be dragon slayers loaded the good ship Haines at Ashland road and we embarked for the mountain lair of the Dragon. A quick stop near the cross roads of Mount Zion gave a chance to raise full sail.

Our Journey would soon take us through the majestic mountain pass of Afton, still awash in shades of purple from the suns first yawn.


We made our path down the Shenandoah Valley and found our way to the old village of New Castle. The narrow waterways alongst Craig’s Creek afforded many a glimpse of the Dragons lair. The day would soon be upon us and each member of the clan prepared to battle the Dragon.

Sir Todd prepares his trusty goblet with sustenance.


Sir Tom queries: What manner of shield would fare best against the beast? Me thinks full gauntlets for mine arms.


We were joined by many other Virginia clans of the knob tire to do battle with the beast in the rocky velodrome of North Mountain.


Then a surprise member of the DPR clan joined our ranks. Twas Jennie that smiled upon us making our clan the full count of four.

The sage Chris Scott leads the charge from atop his horseless carriage. Thar be the Dragon!


And so it began as we followed the charge to the foothills of the beast.

The battle was joined as we left the road for cobbles. Soon we were flogging our velocipedes at full gallop and began fording the icy waters of Craig’s Creek. We crossed the rapids a full count of a man’s toes on one soaked foot.

Soon our assault began with the ascent of the Grouse Trail to the lair of the dragon. During the ascent, I gazed upon Sir Tom who showed a fine display climbing. Upon summit we landed on the tail of the slumbering beast only to make our way back down the mountain for a fresh assault. This day, Tom would unleash a terrible fury on the Dragon and I would not see him again until the quest was finished.

Once more up the Grouse Trail to climb the dragons back. For the second ascent I was joined by Sir Todd. Soon he would slip from my sight in another fine display of cycling.

I roosted a vile switchback that lead to the spine of the beast. Just then, my legs fell victim to some sort witchcraft! They temporarily became possessed by some daemon and refused my bidding. I quenched my thirst using my trusty drinking vessel.

While riding the spine I happened upon Sir Todd who had been nipped by the dragon on the arm. The hind wheel of his velocipede suffered a bite as well, ripping its intestine.

Riding the dragons back seemed to rouse the beast and it soon reared up mountainous shoulder blades we would have to scale.


Soon my legs fell victim to devilry once more. Todd tended to me for a few minutes and led the charge up the next vile and crusty shoulder. I believe he may have heard the daemons whimper from my legs as I struggled to climb. I told Sir Todd to leave me to my fate. Only after I stiffly protested his Aid did I lose sight of him once more.
I scampered and struggled up the rest of the Dragons back only receiving relief when I could mount my trusty velocipede and gallop down the trail. Finally I was getting off the back of the great beast!

A stroke of luck, I happened upon a band of merry folk at Stone Coal Gap who had food and drink. I ate and drank the share of two men!

The final attack on the Dragon started with another climb that led me to Lick Branch Trail on top of the head of the beast. I raced down between dragon eyes and made a final climb up it’s nose on Ferrier Trail.

I smiled as I laid waste to the last of the beast! Then I enjoyed the blessings of the sweet descent to the valley floor!

Back at the camp I met with Todd, Tom, and Jennie for roasted beast and glasses of mead.




After a fine showing from all Dragon Slayers in the DPR clan we headed back to the midlands of Richmond. Arriving home at 10pm ensured a sleep as sound as that of the Dragon.

The result of our grand adventure can be found scribed here