Pretty River Valley 300K Ride Reports: June 16, 2002
With contributions from Phil Piltch, Alan Thwaits, Oliver Moore, Lori Matthews, Jaye Haworth, and Cameron Ogilvie.
Ride Organizer's Report
by Phil Piltch
In spite of some heavy early morning showers just before the ride start, all those registered to do the ride showed up. 10 people did this ride: myself, Lori Matthews, Don Magie, Norbert Kraft, Alan Thwaits, Jaye Haworth, Oliver Moore, Dan Herbert and Marilyn Freeman on their tandem, and non-member ( but soon to be member) Cameron Ogilvie. I am pleased to say that all successfully completed the ride, and in good time, considering that this is one of the hillier 300's (more on that later).
The route started out from Maple, and headed west along Teston Rd. to Kleinburg, giving a taste to the hills to come with the crossing of the Humber River just before Kleinburg. The group hung together for the first few K, but quickly sorted itself into 2 distinct groups - a faster bunch, with the tandem, and Alan and I a bit further back. It seems the faster group further divided with the tandem and Oliver off ahead of the main fast bunch. The route out was identical to the Georgian Triangle up to Alliston, thus those that had done the 400 the week before were treated to the same rollers along Albion-Vaughn Townline/Mt Wolfe, and Gore Rd. As with the 400, there was a lovely flat section just before the climb and descent into the Alliston control. Alan and I decided to stop at a convenience store near Hwy 89/CR15 for water. As Alan and I were leaving the control we found the others also on their way, having left the Tim Horton's. Once again the faster bunch split on the long climb out north out of Alliston. Here the PRV300 diverges from the GT400, continuing up CR15 to Camp Borden, then going east along 15th Sideroad to CR 13 and up to Lisle.
At Lisle, the route then headed west, and, after a bit, the grueling climb of the Purple Hills began. There was a rather stong westerly wind, and I fell back of the rest, while Alan took the lead of the bunch. The Purple Hills climb is pehaps one of the most challenging climbs of the Escarpment, not only being fairly steep in places, but also quite long. Needless to say the group spread out quite a bit as each paced him or herself up the hill. We regrouped just after the last section of climbing, and then continued on to Reddickville for a water stop at the general store. After leaving the store, I had stopped briefly to adjust my rack pack and tried to catch the group, but found the headwind quite strong and fell back. And I began to feel my engery zapped by mild bonk. Taking it easy, I reached the second control at Feversham, and found the group was still there, having only arrived 5 or so minutes earlier. Don had mentioned seeing Oliver as they arrived, having lost his wallet( but not his control card). A number in the group went to the rec centre to find washrooms, while Alan, Don and I remained at the general store and waited for a while. Having seen no sign of the group, we decided to carry on.
The treat of the route is the descent of the Pretty River Valley, which proved spectular. We carried on west, and Don got well ahead, while Alan and I kept together. We stopped briefly at Fairgrounds Rd, and I took a couple of pictures. And then notice the rest of the group was about to join us. At first Alan and I stayed ahead of the group, but soon we merged and rode more or less together to Creemore. At Creemore I stopped to call in on a pager request, while the rest of the group carried on. I wound up riding alone to Angus, although I caught sight of the rest of the group as I went south on 3&4 Sideroad. I arrived at the Tim Horton's in Angus, fully expecting to see the group, but none were there and I got my control card signed and ordered some food. As I began to eat, I finally noticed the rest of the group.
All of us rode together but soon some were well off the front. We stopped briefly at the Pete's in Cookstown, then continued on to Maple.
I recorded 2146 metres of TVC ( total vertical climb), less than the 2916m I recorded on the 400 the week before, but at 100 km less, would seem to make the PRV300 a bit more hilly. I recorded about 330m of TVC from Airport Rd to Honeywood for the Purple Hill of Mulmar climb. All in all a nice route, and a welcome, if challenging addition to the club's rides.
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A Fixed PRV
by Alan Thwaits
This was truly a lovely ride. It ranks as my favourite ride of the season so far.
As Phil has noted, we all did pretty well, considering the lousy weather at the start and the nature of the climbs. The weather turned out to be almost perfect, though. I think the ride would have been much more difficult in very hot weather. And there appeared to be no route sheet errors, so the few times that riders went off course could only be blamed on inattention brought on by good conversation and the magnificent views.
And the scenery really was incredible. I was prepared for the Pretty River Valley stretch, having done that bit on the return leg of last year's Huron Shore 600. Even that was different, though, for a couple reasons. One was that I was less tired this time around, having ridden only 160K to get to the park this year, against 400K or so last year. Second was the fact that last year, I did the Huron Shore brevet on a multi-geared bike, whereas this year I did the PRV on my fixed-gear. Running my low-gear combo of 44x17 (68 gear inches) on the fixie made the long descent through the valley interesting, to say the least. The view from the Purple Hills of Mulmur simply blew me away. The climbs were certainly arduous, and I walked the last bit of the second set of hills. But the view to the south was beautiful beyond words.
I'm happy with how the fixed-gear machine carried me through this hilly brevet. I didn't quite scamper through the hills the way Oliver did (no surprise there), but managed to climb well, and stayed with the group much of the time (except on those long descents, where I'd fall off the back of the group). Never let it be said that a fixie is only for flat-land riding!
As always, the ride was made that much more enjoyable by the good company we shared. It's been a great season so far.
Another (and Faster) Fixed PRV
by Oliver Moore
I'm not actually sure how it happened - rain, yahoos, hills and fixed-gear aside - but I had a fabulous ride on Sunday. And fabulous in many more senses than the time on the clock, it was quite simply a "good ride"
Cameron, who I'd met a few days earlier at the club meeting, came by my house at 4:30 sharp, only to find me still stumbling around in a bathrobe. Wonderfully motivated to get my act together at that point, the two of us were out the door within 5+ minutes. The road was dry as we left, but a light sprinkle (or a heavy Scotch Mist, depends on how you categorise these things) began around one-third of the way to Maple. By the time we were half-way to the start the pleasant mistiness had given way to much more serious rain. We continued on, pissing and moaning at great length about the perfidy of all those farmers whose votes apparentely outweighed ours, and got to Centro Bakery fully soaked and prone to chilling
After the usual farting about, the group rolled out on or about 6am. It started drizzling again not long after we started, though I was lucky enough to avoid real rain for most of the rest of the day. With some fluctuation, some back-and-forth, on the road, the group stayed generally together until about half-way to Alliston. Alan decided to hold off the pace a bit, saving his knees for the real challenge, and Phil stopped for a quick pit stop and was never seen again
I stayed longer than I would have liked in Alliston, was hoping for a 10-15 minute break but it somehow became a 20-25 minute stop. As events transpired, an extra 30 seconds to make sure I still had my money, key and ID would have been a good idea. But off I blithely pedalled
Rather cold from the air-conditioned doughnut shop, I pushed a bit hard up the hill out of town and soon found myself on my own. Looking back every so often, I occasionally noticed the spectral outline of what could have been a bicycle, but which could as easily have been the wicked witch of the north come to claim my soul. But sure enough, as I assumed my characteristic pose at the side of the road (shoulders hunched, forearms straining, sighing deeply), Dan and Marilyn's tandem went sailing by at a good clip
I fully intended to slow down enormously when I hit the real hills, and was glad to do so when I came to them. (For once I'd like to climb those hills without bucking a headwind!) What might reasonably be called the "first half" of the Purple Hills was not nearly as bad as I remembered it. The "second half," though, was just as bad as I remembered it. I struggled my way up, tried to enjoy the view through blood-filmed eyes and offered a slight benediction as the last bit was crested
Through Redickville, I tried to pick up my pace again but found that my legs had other ideas. Trying instead to recover on the bike, I took it easy in advance of what I knew was a fair stretch of hard-pack/gravel. As luck would have it, a light rain started shortly before I hit the dirt and I was left wallowing (pardon the hyperbole) my way through. As I approached Feversham I was reminded of my proposition by the counter-clerk last time and wondered mildly whether she would be working again
But my newfound friends were of a different stripe this week. A group of young yahoos lounging around a pickup truck decided that they had discerned my heretofore hidden homosexual tendencies and offered a string of pleasantries as I sat on the steps, pondering my lack of money and ID and wondering what the hell I was doing in Feversham. Dan and Marilyn came in not longer after me (they had fallen over during a particularly unsuccessful attempt at a gear shift and had also stopped to put their rain coats back on). They very generously lent me some money, and I was munching cookies when most of the other riders came in. I called VISA to cancel my card and rolled out, with the last hurled comment from the local inbreds ringing in my ears
Feeling the cold, Dan and Marilyn had left shortly before me. They seemed to be feeling the ride, though, and I gradually caught up with them. We slingshotted back and forth on the road, now they were ahead by a klick or so, now I was. We regrouped in Creemore (not long after I saw a convoy of five trucks carrying a grand total of eighty (80) portapotties - leaving much room for stinky humour, but I was unfortunately alone at that point) and cruised the last 25-30K to Angus.
All of us were pretty knackered by now and a slightly longer break seemed in order. Tim Horton's, to my horror, no longer sells chili in a bread bowl, but I managed to settle for a normal bowl or chili, a doughnut, coffee, fruit leather, water and a handful of biltong (perhaps best described as the south african version of beef jerky). Having rested our duffs and our legs for a full half-hour, we rolled out again at 4 o'clock sharp.
We again gradually split up on the road. I felt by now that I was going painfully slowly and hurting a fair amount; even the side-winds were aggravating. But I pushed on, munching on fruit leather, eating great handfuls of biltong and swigging all the water I could stomach. Around the marsh and down Jane, I felt seriously rough and considered again my reasons for doing this stupidity. But it all came good at the finish when I realised that the stretch from Angus had been perhaps the fastest leg of the whole trip. 3 hours and 5 minutes to do 85 kilometres, I was very pleased. The tandem came in only 5 minutes later. I scarfed down pizza, cookies and coffee - declined the very kind offer of a lift into town - and bolted for home.
Overall, a much better ride than the time I did the same course three weeks ago. I was stronger, the wind was less malicious and - despite the rain - I finished in a much better mood this time.
Bring on the Lake Ontario girdle.
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Good Thoughts
by Lori Matthews
Hats off to Alan and Oliver for attempting and finishing the ride on their fixed-gears. Although I was having a particularly bad climbing day, even in my best climbing form I think I would have hurled a fixed-gear bike over the edge on the Purple Hills. Job well done.
I would like to thank Norbert and Cameron for blocking the wind for me for most of the ride yesterday. Thanks, Jaye, for the ibuprophen, which helped me finish the final 100 km from Angus. Phil, thanks for arranging the sun for me from Cookstown home. This allowed some of the new members to endure my singing voice.
As most of you know, I am not a rain rider, and under most circumstances would have stayed in bed yesterday. I must say it was a beautiful route and the rain was not that bad. I'll work on a more pleasant demeanour for the next rain ride.
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Saved on the Hill
by Jaye
I agree with Lori - Oliver and Alan riding the Pretty River 300 on fixed gears is absolutely amazing!
By the time I got to the top of those Purple Hills, I was in my tiniest rings, front and back (plus I have a triple!), with nowhere else to go. The view from the top (plus the added bonus of being saved by Jesus at the little holy roller-looking church at the summit) made it all worth while!
The descents were sooooo much fun! And the Pretty River Valley, is indeed, very pretty! I loved the run down into Creemore.
Good companionship, good route. The weather early in the day wasn't the most inspiring, but that beautiful last blast of golden sun, coming into Maple, at the end of a challenging day made the entire day's effort worth it.
And I have to say, that last interminable stretch down Jane, is only redeemed by the shortness of the Teston Road jog - it's such a relief, to finally make that turn off of Jane, and be able see the lights at Keele, knowing that the finish is close at hand.
Thanks fellow road warriors, it was wonderful.
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My First Brevet
by Cameron Ogilvie
After much preparation, planning, and courage, I finally summed up the nerve to register for a brevet. A 200 you say? No, none of that for me. My first brevet was the PRV300. The decision to start with the 300 was not as foolish as you might think. I have been serious about cycling for the last couple of years and have put in several 160-190 km rides already this season with other club members (Jaye, Alan, and Norbert).
So, being the enthusiastic young chap that I am (aka penniless wretch with no car), I opted to ride up to Maple for the 6 am start. This doesn't sound too exciting, but when you consider where I live (Queens Quay & Bathurst), it does make it a greater challenge.
It all began at 3:30 am. Beep-beep-beep-beep-SMASH!-beep-beep-beep! Thud. I was up, more or less. I had agreed to meet Oliver Moore at his place at 4:30am so we could ride up to Maple together. So, I made my coffee (double shot latte), ate as much as my surly-morning stomach would permit, looked at the Environment Canada web site regarding the weather, and dressed as I thought would be appropriate. Low of 12, high of 19, partly cloudy, chance of afternoon thunderstorms, POP 60%. The latter portion of the forecast was a bit disturbing, but I had agreed to meet Oliver at 4:30am, so that's what I had to do.
I got dressed, got outside, got on the bike and began to ride. It was delightful. Warm, but not too warm, calm and quiet. I thought I would have the road to myself, but thanks to the World Cup, traffic was as busy as it always is, and the drunks were just starting to stumble home after the game.
4:28 am: I arrived at Oliver's house (in the thick of Little Italy/world cup district) and expected to find him outside affixing lights or some such. But no, when I finally found his place I found a note on the door, "Dear Cameron, Please come on upstairs and bring your bike. And please be as quiet as you can." As I attempted to scale the steep hardwood steps in my cleats, I felt like the other patrons sitting near the old lady trying desperately to remove the cellophane from her cough-candy at the symphony. Oliver was still in his bathrobe and it looked like it would take some doing to get him out the door.
4:40 am: Finally we were off. Hurtling northward at what seemed like a blistering pace, but thanks to Oliver's late start we had about 32km to travel in 1 hour so we could make the 5:45am bike inspection. Anyway, we made it, but the ride up to Maple was perhaps the worst part of the day. As we got further and further north the 60% POP became a 100% POP. Light mist, heavy mist, rain, heavy rain, and then intermittent torrential downpour. I was so glad I had just cleaned my bike the day before.
Finally after winding our way north and west off in the distance, a blinker could be seen (flashing LED rear bike light). It was our fearless leader Phil. At that point, Oliver was greatly relieved to see him, because he wanted to be able to qualify for some event in Boston. (I suspect the Montreal-Boston-Montreal, but I could be wrong.) And without the ride organizer, it would be much more difficult because of the lack of upcoming 300 km events on the Rando schedule.
By this point I was still warm (due to our thermally-motivated blistering pace) but my feet was absolutely soaked. Squish-squish-squish with every stroke.
6:02 am: Official ride start, and I was very very glad to get rolling again. I was dry shortly thereafter, except of course for my soggy feet, which gradually dried out over the course of the ride. The temperature was mostly tolerable during the morning but later in the day, Jaye was kind enough to lend me her vest. It was exactly what I needed. Thanks again Jaye for the vest-loan, and the painkillers. I would have been much slower on Jane street if it wasn't for them.
Feversham was a point of interest. Most notably because Oliver had come to the realization that he had lost his ID/money/visa/keys etc. The first thing I asked him, "Do you still have your control card?" Only because of our conversation much earlier in the day (5:25am) about qualifying for Boston, because, without this brevet, he wouldn't be able to go. However, Oliver was quite wrong about the redneck in the pickup. He wasn't pondering his sexuality, but he was reminiscing his days not so long ago when he was doing the time-trials on Warden Ave in Scarberia (Scarborough).
The Purple Hills were quite a challenge. I would love to do them again on a shorter ride so I could climb with more of my usual reckless abandon. On the second part of the climb, Jaye came flying past me. "Cheater!," I shouted. To which she replied, "I've got a triple!" But, she wasn't even using it. I looked to me like she was using her 39-25 (or maybe it's a 27 in the back). After I pointed this out, she dropped it into her real granny and continued to fly up the hill. I sorely wanted to dance up the hill, but at this point we only about 1/3 of the way through the ride, so I decided to pace myself and take it easy. Norbert & I "tacked" our way up the hill, which really took the edge off. At the top, I met up with Jaye, and we waited for Alan and some others to regroup before we hurtled off again.
At the 250km mark, my left knee started to hurt. It really slowed me down from the Marsh onward and it made the last few hills on Jane street very very tough. I walked a bit, and mostly rode, sometimes clipping out on the left side and single-legging it up the hills. Surprisingly enough, it only added 10 minutes to my ride time. I was amazed that I didn't lose more. And the most surprising of all, aside from some muscle stiffness, I don't hurt anywhere (the day after, that is).
A beautiful day, a beautiful ride. Thanks to my new and old friends!
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