Ride Report: Finishing a brevet is always the goal, but not always the outcome!

 Route / Event: St. Thomas to Paris 200 / 200km Brevet [ Ride Log ] 

Another Saturday morning arrival at another Tim Horton's for another brevet with Randonneurs Ontario. This one in particular was located on the eastern edge of St. Thomas, Ontario, and the intended route would have the group cycling out to the town of Paris (no, not that Paris) before looping back to St. Thomas. 

I unloaded and packed my bike in the dark parking lot, beneath the crackling of an intimidating transformer tower. I grabbed some breakfast (the usual: Farmer's Wrap and OJ), and greeted other fellow randonneurs as they arrived. One such randonneur approached me and said "Hey man, it's good to see you again!". After a quick double-take, I realized this was my friend sadrik. He and I had worked together in the early 2000s, and though we hadn't seen each other much in the last fifteen years, I had noticed that he was putting down some serious cycling miles, and invited him to come join us for a brevet. Fifteen years combined with the impressive physical transformation that sadrik had undergone had me not recognizing him immediately. I was looking forward to catching up with him today. 

Once we were ready to go we numbered eight; a little low from the standard pre-pandemic turnout numbers. Nevertheless, with the sun having cracked the horizon it was looking to be a gorgeous day. 

sadrik, John, Brenda, Fred, Tim, Jerzy, Jay (enroute: Mark)
Photo Credit: Brenda

We were only just shy of 6km into the ride when the group rolled over a set of train tracks that heavily protruded from the paved road. Almost everyone exclaimed at the jagged overpass and sure enough, Mark had to pull over; his rear wheel having lost it's air. While Mark was perfectly capable of changing his own tire, those who were immediately present stopped and waited. In so doing, there was rather an unspoken agreement that, due to the low turnout, and the fact that we had two first-timers joining us, today's ride would be a team approach; more akin to audax cycling rather than traditional randonneuring. (See Sidelight). 

SIDELIGHT: Audax cycling vs. randonneuring: The sport of randonneuring has roots in audax cycling. Derived from the latin word for 'bold', audax cycling came about in 1904 as a group riding event where teams would ride together and support one-another over great distances of 200km and beyond. As audax continued its evolution into a competitive team-based stage-race (think Tour de France), the Audax Club Parisienne, the central governing body of the sport, introduced randonneuring. In this amateur sport, cyclists would ride as individuals in similarly long self-supported brevets. And so audax cycling remains a team-based ultra-cycling event while randonneuring is strictly individual. 

Mark's flat mechanical should have been a standard roadside tube replacement, but he was having issues keeping the new tube inflated due to a faulty valve in the spare tube. Being unable to install the new tube, and unable to patch the old one (which seemed to have a leak no one could find at the time), Mark was ready to call his day. The group waited while Tim hoofed it back to the Tim Horton's grabbed his truck, leaving it with Mark on the off-chance he could get his ride repaired. They say randonneuring and camaraderie go hand-in-hand -- this is why they say that. I felt bad for Mark, but I figured it was better that this issue happened early in the ride rather than at the furthest possible point; a thought that would haunt me later. Especially when I realized that, while I had a patch kit with me, I may have forgotten to pack my spare tube. Don't jinx it Fred -- you'll be fine! 

Learning the art of the draft

We continued on as a group of six. Once we were through Belmont I noticed that I was tiring more quickly than usual. I checked my GPS and noticed the speed I'd been averaging was well above what I'm accustomed to, and I questioned whether I could sustain that speed for the duration of the day. In true audax style however, whenever I would fade off the back of the group, Tim, Brenda, or Jerzy would be there to pull me back in. Not being an experienced group rider, this drafting effect was actually a new, and rather surreal, experience for me. I realize that the physics of aerodynamics are have a part to play here, but it felt magical how their mere presence made me a stronger, faster cyclist as I would catch up to the group without any additional effort. Once again: camaraderie.  

Checkpoint 1 - Newark, ON

At the first control checkpoint, 60km into the ride, we learned that Mark wouldn't be rejoining us, but that he was able to return Tim's truck and get himself home safely. As a group we didn't stay long here as the earlier delay did put some pressure on us ensuring we would make the Paris control in the allotted time. 
  

For the next leg of the ride I was very focused on group riding and drafting etiquette (or draft-whoring as I heard it called). Drafting the other cyclists was the only way I was able to sustain the 25-28kph speed we were traveling. But there's another benefit to being in a group and that's the increased awareness on obstacles. After all many eyes are better than two. 

Disaster at the halfway point

We were only a few clicks from Paris, so I allowed myself to fall off the back of the group. But just then I saw a massive pothole in front of me and only managed to get my front tire around it before my rear wheel took it head on. I'd hit it VERY hard. I coasted for a bit, wondering if there was change in stability, and there didn't seem to be, but just to be safe, I stopped and checked my rear tire. It was flat. 

I looked up the road and could barely see the group off in the horizon. No worries, I don't need their help to change a tire -- all I needed was a spare.....oh shit!

I found the only piece of shade I could find -- 30cm across provided by a telephone pole. I took my tube out and proceeded to search for the damage. I didn't find it immediately, so I tried to pump up the tire and realized it wouldn't hold any air -- the damage must have been considerable. 

It was around that time that I was greeted by two guests; the first was a stray cat who wandered across the highway and sat just out of reach to watch me. Rando (that was the name I gave him) just sat there and watched me pump up my tire without even so much as an encouraging meow. I asked, and he didn't have a spare tube with him either. Useless cat. 

The second (and more useful guest) was Andy, who pulled over in a pickup truck. 

"You look a bit stuck -- can I give you a lift back home?" he asked. 

"Well, I appreciate that, but my home is in London." I said. 

"In London? How the hell did you get out here? That's hours away! I could take you into town, but I don't know if Paris has a bike shop." (NOTE: It doesn't)

"I've got a group at the Cobblestone Pub -- can you take me there?" I asked. 

"Sure can. Is that your cat?" Andy asked. 

"Nope. Left my cats back in London" I said as we loaded up my bike and took off up the road for Paris. Bye Rando! 

Lunch and out

Once I was dropped off at the Cobblestone Pub I greeted my fellow randonneurs, who were already enjoying refreshments on the patio. I appreciated the team's effort in helping me restore my wheel. We tried to boot the snakebite in the tube, to no avail. Tim also let me use his spare tube. It was made for a slightly thinner tire, but should have sufficed. Unfortunately as we inflated it, it burst. I took that as a sign that we should just declare my day done, and I would focus my efforts on getting home safely. Still, talk about camaraderie!

After a reinvigorating meal involving a 10oz perch, and a refreshing cider, I bid the group, which now numbered five, adieu and set about finding my way home. 

The rescue

I couldn't call my wife for a lift. She's the commanding officer of London's Army cadets, and was tied up in an all-day virtual conference with other commanders around Ontario. So I started with Uber. It was going to be $125 to get back to St. Thomas. The driver that acknowledged the fare was 18 minutes away. I sent him a quick message asking if he would be able to fit my bike in his Lincoln MKZ. The driver called me and asked "Is it a small bike?"

"It's a bike-sized bike", I replied. 

"I just don't want to drive 15 minutes and find it won't fit -- I have a small car" he said. 

"15 minutes is plenty of time for me to separate it into three very manageable pieces" I said, thinking I could just take the wheels off, and load the frame into his trunk with the wheels in the back. 

"I don't think it will work. Can you please cancel?" he said eventually. 

So I did. My next call was to Grand River Taxi. 

"Can you take a fare from Paris to St. Thomas?" I asked. 

"We sure can" the agent replied "Where are you?"

"I'm at the Cobblestone. Also, I to need to know if you can take a bike too". I explained that I'd broken down, and that my car was back in St. Thomas. The agent, who I learned was the owner of the cab company said he'd send Brenda (not our Brenda...another Brenda), who I later learned was the co-owner of the company, and his wife. Brenda arrived within 10 minutes with a black minivan. I was able to load my bike into the van (in one piece!) and we set off for the trip back to St. Thomas. 

Brenda had a lot of stories to tell on the way back to my car. I heard about how she and her husband almost drowned in the riptides of Costa Rica, and about how people will call the cab company for the dumbest things -- such as the score of the football game!

As much as I enjoyed Brenda's company, I was happy to see my vehicle when we pulled into the Tim Horton's in St. Thomas. "Okay, so that'll be $250" she said, pleasantly. 

I paused. That much?!? I'm sure she did tell me this back in Paris. Or at least she told me what the mileage rate was and to actually know how far we were driving and further expected my rando-fogged brain to do the math. But I wasn't about to bicker and haggle -- this was the price of being unprepared, being rescued, and doing so in a completely self-sufficient manner. "Thank you so much" was all I said as I e-transferred the money. 

Getting home was less eventful. I had my tire replaced within an hour of being home; something I felt I needed to do if only to prove to myself that I could repair this problem, and to reinformce that I should bring the right parts along next time. 

sadrik, who had gone on to complete the brevet, came over after the ride was done. He hung out for a swim, and we debriefed our days with each other. We'd never gotten the chance to catch up during the day like we intended, so that worked out. In fact I have no regrets about the day over all. I'll always aim to finish brevets, and I could do without them costing over $300 all-in. But I do this for the adventure, and to have real human experiences, and I definitely had a bunch of that today. 

Lessons learned form this ride: 

• You may not bring a spare tube with you on every milk run, but remember to pack it for the longer rides, dummy. 
• Low tire pressure is comfortable, but puts you at increased risk of pinch flats. Consider tubeless (but still bring a spare tube). 
• Randonneuring is indeed synonymous with camaraderie. Despite it being an individuals sport, randonneurs are social people with big hearts. 
• I need to work on raising my cruising speed. More than a few people recommended to me that it's time to clip in. Will acquire shoes and pedals accordingly.