|
||||
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
Gentle Start 200K Brevet
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
A Not-So Gentle Startstory by Ken Dobb; photos by Marilyn Freedman and Dan Herbert For the past few years, the Gentle Start has been the unofficial start of the club's brevet season. Now usually held on the first Sunday in May, it is a chance for club members to catch up with one another after the winter layoff, and to test rusty muscles on a route that, while not "gentle", provides just enough challenge to start the season. This year, over twenty cyclists showed up at the start of the ride in the shopping centre parking lot, of whom fourteen would go on to complete the entire brevet distance. While the dynamics of no two brevets are exactly alike, the beginning of the Gentle Start was very much like the opening hours of most club brevets. On the earlier, quieter roads, riders grouped together in pairs and in conversational groups and swapped chat On Britinnia Road - a somewhat busier road in the section south of Milton -cyclists formed a single file, and the pace picked up. At Walker's Line, Britannia Road jogs south up a short sharp hill before continuing west There was an initial selection of the group here, with slower riders falling to the back of the group. The gradual ascent of the Escarpment begins at this point - 20 odd kilometers into the ride. In quieter traffic, the route crosses Guelph Line at Lowville, then dips and rises sharply to Cedar Springs Road. Britannia Rd. continues to ascend until, at Milborough Townline, the route again flattens out By this point the group was fragmented, with six slower riders off the back. In the next few kilometers, the remaining riders reformed into something like a cohesive group and, by the beginning of the long, flat section of the route on the 4th Concession Road, had formed up into a double paceline with one of the club's most experienced riders acting as ride captain. An equipment problem caused me to halt temporarily to make an adjustment; the ride captain slowed the pace of the paceline to allow me to catch up.  At St. George riders stopped to refuel and refresh at a local grocery. Those riders who were going to turn back to the ride start gathered here to eat lunch and discuss the remainder of the day's ride. After a stop of about fifteen minutes, at the point when the main group was about to push on, the six slower riders arrived. Riders left St. George in small groups, but reformed into a larger group before the route reached the Grand River. East River Road northwards towards Highway 24 is rolling and a further three riders - including myself - soon fell off the back. A relentless wind out of the east - in Southern Ontario, a storm wind - cut across our route from right to left. At Highway 24, the three of us formed into a group that rode together into Cambridge, where we found the main group already at lunch at a local donut shop. Over chicken salad sandwiches we had fun at the expense of a certain shaven-headed Italian protessional cyclist and swapped tall tales. The chill of the relentless wind led to a staggered group start with some riders soft pedaling from the lunch spot with the expatiation that those lagging over lunch would catch up. A pair of riders went strongly off the front and, subsequently made a wrong turn that would cost them twenty kilometers and an hour of cycling. On a pretty stretch of road which climbs hills just outside of Cambridge, the laggards, pulled strongly by a tandem, breezed by, leaving in their wake myself and the same other two riders who had fallen back after St. George. The three of us formed a group that found its way on the roads among the farmlands in the triangle formed by the cities of Guelph, Cambridge, and Waterloo. We passed over a quiet stretch of the Eramosa River just outside of Hespeler, followed almost immediately by a remarkable whale-backed single-lane bridge over railway tracks - a nightmare remnant of some 1920's engineering. The pretty Catholic church at Maryhill, with its architectural style reminissent of South Germany, became a landmark on our horizon.  We arrived at Maryhill just as the main group was about to leave. We three riders went about the business of filling out control cards as quickly as we could, but by the time we were ready to assume our places in the group, another two riders had headed off by themselves into the wind. Our stay with the group was shortlived as we watched the main group, now reduced to the tandem and three other riders, pull away from us on a short hill just outside of town. We were riding at a cross angle to the wind, coming over our front wheels from the left as we rode southwards.  On County Road 34, we turned face on into the wind for the first time, and cycling became a struggle. After another south-bound jog, we found ourselves again headed eastwards into the wind, but this time with a measure of shelter afforded by the trees lining quiet First Concession Road. At one point just before Crieff, a turkey vulture, wiry held stiffy in a characteristic shallow V, paralleled our group, hanging like a parasail in the wind. Shelter was found amongst the forested lands surrounding the Mountsberg Resevoir, and, before too long, we found ourselves at the Campbellville control. As we approached the control, we met the two riders who had left the main group at Maryhill, and, shortly after we had seated ourself at the Bruce Trail Eatery, the main group headed out. Soon enough, we too found ourselves face on into the wind with no shelter to be found among the flat empty fields along Britannia Road. Nor did the three of us work very well together, strung out in a long line rather than bunched together in a tight group.  Our group got back to Erin Mills after a ride of just over 10 hours. What in past years, had been a pleasant day's outing, had been made more tiring by the unusual weather. We waited at the control for the remaining riders to roll in, each complaining about the day, but content to have, once again, completed a spring ritual. |
|
|
|
|
|
