Last Saturday I took part in a famous East Coast ride known as theDeerfield Dirt-Road Randonnée (D2R2). Don't be too impressed: I only did the short Green River Tour, augmented slightly to make it an even 50 miles. It was a good way to test my comfort level with unpaved riding, and I had a wonderful time.
The D2R2 happened unexpectedly. For the past two years I'd tried to go, but each time it did not work out. This year I did not even consider it, for lack of appropriate bike. So I wasn't training, and hadn't done any unpaved riding in months. Then a couple of weeks ago, Rawland Cycles offered me to try a new bike they've just released - a sporty model with 650B wheels and fat tires. When I mentioned the D2R2 was coming up, everything happened quickly. The Ride Studio Cafe took delivery of the bike just days before the event, assembling and tuning it with miraculous speed. On Friday I took it on a shake-down ride on some local dirt trails and determined that I'd be able to ride it. A friend borrowed a van with room for three, and could give me a ride to the start. Late in the evening I packed, printed out a cue sheet, and devised a method to affix it sturdily to the handlebars. Then I tried to stifle my excitement and go to sleep. Finally I drifted off, to the sound of rain against the window.
The D2R2 is more than a ride; it's an event. Many arrive the evening before and camp out in tents. Neither I nor my carpool companions were able to do that, so we left the morning of. At 5:30am Somervillain and our friend Brian arrived at my door. The rain started up again as we rolled my bike into the van alongside the other two and secured it with bungee cords. The rain continued as we drove toward Deerfield, MA. I began to wonder whether it would get so muddy that I simply would not be able to do the ride, but tried not to think about it.
In the early hours the roads were empty and the drive took us less than two hours.The D2R2 start is an enormous grass field, surrounded by patches of woods and cornfields. A thick fog hung over it all. In the distance we could see rows of colourful tents.To the side were rows of densely parked cars and vans, laden with bikes. Riders were assembling their bikes, changing clothes and shoes.
There were cyclists riding in circles on the grass, as if warming up before a race. The start times are staggered, with the 180K having already set off before we arrived. Brian and Somervillain would be doing the 100K route, with a 9:00 am start and mine was the 9:30 start. We had plenty of time.
It was clear from the beginning that some treated the D2R2 as a competitive event and others treated it as a party. Groups of riders in team kit were gathered in clusters discussing game plans.
Others chatted with friends, as if they did not have a care in the world.
A row of portable toilets stood picturesquely, against a backdrop of mountain vistas. The rain seemed to be easing up, but the fog and the overcast skies remained. The grass was wet. My cleats sunk into the mud as I walked my bike toward the registration tent.
Not having pre-registered, I expected chaotic crowds, but it was civilised and well-organised. I registered and received a number to pin on my jersey and bracelet granting me entrance to dinner later. Each rider was also given a sticker with an ID chip (like the kind they use to track pets!) to place on their helmet, so that they could keep track of our times and whereabouts in case of emergency, since there is no mobile phone reception throughout much of the route. This is the first year they did the ID chip thing, and I have mixed feelings about it. But I dutifully affixed the sticker, and got my number pinned on. I have never done a ride with such official trappings before.
A hot breakfast was served, with coffee and vegetarian frittatas. There were also bagels, hard boiled eggs, pastries and juice.
I was so excited that I wasn't hungry, but forced myself to sit down and eat - jumping up occasionally to greet people I knew and to photograph all the fabulous bikes.
Most of the cyclists I knew were doing the 100K ride, with a few opting for the 115K and the 180K. I began to question my decision to do the short, flat route. But then I remembered that it wasn't about the distance and the climbing itself, but about doing all that on dirt roads. I am not a confident off-road cyclist, to put it kindly, and I've only done short stretches in the past. The shorter route was enough to start with, if I could even handle that much.
As the last of my acquaintances set off for the 100K, the sun came out, slowly bathing the green field in a warm glow. The sky turned blue. Now I was eager to get going.
Even though I'd now met some people who'd be doing the River Tour route, I decided to ride alone so that I could stop whenever I liked and take pictures. I'd brought my big, heavy DSLR camera in my saddlebag. I wanted to enjoy the scenery and take my time. I arranged the cue sheet at an angle that was easily visible from my vantage point on the bike. At 9:30am I set off, allowing the first wave of starters to go on ahead of me.
After following the cue sheet through a short stretch of paved side streets, I finally arrived at a dirt road leading through some corn fields. The dirt here had turned to mud from the rain, and had not yet dried out even though the sun was out now. I gave it a try and found that my tires could handle the mud.
It did get pretty bad in a couple of stretches - deep and viscous. I accelerated through it to keep the bike going. Later I had to clean mud out from under my pedals.
After the cornfields came a stretch that was unexpectedly un-D2R2like: a manicured bike path, and some main roads with awkward turns. This went on for about 5 miles and I tried to get through it as quickly as possible. I began to pass cyclists who'd started before me. Some of them looked worried and confused - clearly not having expected to be on the road with cars for such a long period of time, and not able to read a cue sheet
and ride at the same time. Finally the cue sheet directed me to a (still paved) back road that was much quieter and passed through some scenic farms. But still no dirt.
It was not until mile 10 that the pavement ended again and the scenery changed from farms to forest. Here the dirt and gravel were damp, but not wet or muddy. There were ruts and some loose stretches, but all perfectly manageable on fat tires.
The Green River Tour is described as flat, and it is compared to the longer routes. My 50 miles included about 2,600 feet of climbing. The 100K, while only 15 miles longer, included 7,500 feet of climbing. Still, even the Green River route is not pancake flat. On the outbound leg, there was a general upward trend. There was also a scattering of very short, but steep climbs throughout. My computer registered 10-14% grades on a few occasions and I would see cyclists walking up the steeper inclines. Riding uphill on unpaved terrain is more difficult than on asphalt and requires lower gears than would normally be used for the same grade. I did use my low gears liberally over the course of the flat ride.
The Green River winds through the woods picturesquely, and I found this part of the route extremely relaxing. The air smelled like leaves and grass and dirt after the rain. I could hardly feel the heat of what was now a very sunny day with temperatures in the 80s. I was torn between wanting to go slowly to prolong the experience, and wanting to go fast because it was fun and I was full of energy. A couple of times I turned around and went back just to have another look at something that I passed too quickly on the first go.
At around mile 15 there was a checkpoint with water, food and portable bathroom facilities. The volunteers were exceptionally nice. I refilled my nearly empty bottles and ate a banana.
The beautiful dirt roads continued after the checkpoint, until finally I saw ahead what could only be the lunch stop: a red covered bridge surrounded by a sea of cyclists. The organisers were clever with the route design, so that all the riders ended up at the same half-way point lunch stop, which remained open from 12:00 noon until 4pm.
This spot was so gorgeous, words and pictures can hardly do it justice. Green water flowing so smoothly, that the river surface resembled a sheet of malachite. Then, suddenly, a waterfall, white water frothing over rocks. Thick leafy canopies provided natural shade. Soft fragrant grass and pine needles made for a cushioned sitting surface.
Cyclists arrived from all directions.
Bikes were placed everywhere.
The lunch tent was beautifully situated, spacious, and offered many food options - sandwiches, snacks, potato and pasta salad, and buckets of sliced pickles.
I made use of the pickle juice when refilling my water bottles, which made for an interesting conversation with a roadie who thought the stuff was there as a joke. Nope. And yum!
Some riders tried to rest, or tend to their bikes.
But most treated it like a big party, circulating and eating and socialising.
No one looked dead-tired or miserable. Most were not in a hurry. I saw lots of cyclists arrive but not many leave until I myself got going after 2pm.
The return route was slightly different, affording more glimpses of unusual structures and landscapes. It was difficult not to constantly stop to photograph things. There were several long, winding downhill stretches here made somewhat treacherous by viscous mud, puddle-filled ruts and loose gravel. I was surprised at how easily the bike handled through it all. I was really just thinking about how pretty everything was the entire time, not about the riding itself.
To ride for miles and miles and miles without seeing any cars, stores or pavement, was really something. The smells of undisturbed forest on a summer afternoon put me in a trance. It was at this stage that I added a short extra loop to my ride, to turn the 44 miles into an even 50. While I was not ready for the challenging climbs of the 100K, I did wish for more distance. But I didn't wander too far from the prescribed route, as my phone had no reception and I did not want to get lost.
It was sad when the dirt roads ended. But luckily, the paved stretch was more pleasant on the return route than it had been heading out.
Rolling up to the finish after what had basically been a road-to-trail photo expedition with a lunch break, part of me wished that I'd done the hilly 100k and challenged myself more. But I was already starting to forget that just that very morning I hadn't even been sure that I could handle the short ride. One step at a time.
Fortunately no one gave me a hard time about my choice of the easy route. However, my ravings about how much I
loved the dirt roads were seen as a promising sign that I'll join more unpaved rides in the future.
Once the 7pm cutoff came, results were swiftly published.
A hot dinner was served, along with locally made beer. The party continued.
It's hard to describe what made the atmosphere so special, but everyone around me just looked so genuinely happy. There was a feeling that you could approach anyone and start talking to them.
All around, people looked relaxed, open, unguarded, sunkissed.
And in that moment it felt that everything was right with the world. That feeling comes over all of us sometimes, however briefly. At the end of D2R2 I sensed that many of us felt it all at once. That's what made the event special.
As for the riding itself, I would describe the Green River route as relaxing, scenic and not challenging - provided you have a basic level of comfort with riding on dirt and gravel, and can handle the distance. The length of the official route is 44 miles, with just over half of that unpaved. The terrain rarely gets technical, and when it does you can simply walk. You can also walk up hills if your gearing is not low enough; the steep ones are short. I would, however, recommend wide tires (35mm+ should keep you comfortable) and reasonably low gears. Bring lots of water, as there will be nowhere to get it until the rest stop. And - very importantly - learn how to read a cue sheet. GPS computers can be insufficient and I found the cue sheet worked better. I was asked for directions at least a dozen times by riders who could not manage to read and ride simultaneously.
As far as training, I would say just aim for being comfortable with the distance, keeping in mind that riding on dirt and gravel is more effortful and tiring than riding the same distance on pavement. If you've never ridden on unpaved terrain before, seek out some local trails just to get an idea of what to expect. And if trails are lacking, try riding up and down a grassy slope - the effort and traction are similar. Because riders are basically given all day to finish the route, there is no pressure and the Green River Tour can be anything you make it. You can see how fast you can complete the entire course, or you can meander at 5mph and take all day. All sorts of cyclists did this ride - from fast experienced riders who simply wanted to take it easy that day, to cautious novices.
Those who did the challenging D2R2 routes spoke of many things I did not experience. Grueling climbs rewarded by visits to a peach orchard and mountain-top views. Terrifying descents on loose gravel. A crash of a rider unknown to us, an ambulance struggling up a dirt road with the sirens on. Pain, sweat. Sweat, pain. But in the end the riders' faces showed mostly joy. Not the "thank God this is over" kind of joy, but joy from the experience of the journey.
For me, taking part in D2R2 felt like a mini vacation. I loved the landscape, the terrain, the camaraderie, the bikes - all of it. From reading and hearing about D2R2 in previous years, I could not get a sense for what the supposedly "easy"Green River route was really like, and so I hope this ride report was helpful for those on the fence about their ability to handle it. Next summer I would like to return and attempt the 100K route. The Rawland demo bike I rode was just perfect for the terrain and I will post a review soon. A thank you to Rawland Cycles and Ride Studio Cafe for making this happen at the last minute. A thank you to my friend Somervillain for the carpool. Thank you to everyone who organised the ride and volunteered, as well as the Franklin Land Trust (you can donate to support them here). And a thank you to everyone who tolerated my picture-taking and made for such great company. I hope to see you next year. More pictures of the event start to finish here.
The weather here has been awful since I've returned from Vienna. So while I've used my bicycle to get where I need to go, the long "welcome home" ride I fantasized about does not seem to be in the cards. Stretches like this remind me to take advantage of good weather whenever possible, and so I offer these photos from one of the nicer cycling days we had at the beginning of the month.
These photos were taken in front of the Metropolitan Storage Warehouse in Cambridge, Mass., which is a local landmark of sorts and has been functioning since 1917.
We do not usually have a good reason to visit this area, but I was intrigued by the Vassar Street bike path controversy that I had read about on 
I am not certain what my stance is on the Vassar Street critique; it is a complicated issue. But I do enjoy cycling through the MIT/ Cambridgeport neighborhood during non-traffic hours. When these streets are empty, I feel that the personalities of all the warehouses and industrial sites and contemporary constructions really come out, and the abandoned urban landscape becomes "communicative". Is it all in my head? Maybe so. But that does not make the experience any less interesting.
We are staying on the North Shorefor a while, and the weather is unbelievable. Yesterday began with a thick, frigid fog, giving way to blinding sunshine and oppressive heat, followed by a sudden darkening of the skies and a mini-redux of the previous day's violent downpour with a temperature drop of at least 20F - all in rapid succession and repeated every several hours. It was as hilarious as it was frustrating, as we kept scrambling to start one thing after another, only for our plans to be thwarted by the elements. Food was rained on, warm clothing was shed no sooner than it was donned, camera equipment was hastily put away no sooner than it was set up, several pairs of shoes now needed drying, and my hair was a hopeless rat's nest of a mess. Others might have given up at this point, resigned to spend the day under a blanket with a bottle of rum. But we are stubborn - and also perversely delighted by the irony of finally being able to get away in August like normal people (instead of September as in previous years), only to be greeted by Autumnal weather as usual. Maybe freezing, stormy holidays are just "us" and we shouldn't fight it. Also, the closest town is a dry town (!) and there is no rum.
While I'd thought my improvised wool swimsuit would be bulky and uncomfortable, it turned out to be anything but. The fabric clung to my body as well as my synthetic swimsuits and kept me warm not only in the water, but also once I got out and air-dried without a towel in the cooling evening air. Pretty amazing. I liked it so much compared to wearing my normal bathing suit, that I think I'll just keep wearing this if I ever get a chance to swim here again. The beaches are not especially glamorous around these parts, so I don't think anyone cares. But this makes me wonder whether anybody actually makes contemporary wool bathing suits. I don't mean nostalgic/retro 1920's style garments, but a normal, "athletic coverage" type of swimsuit that's a mix of wool and spandex. A preliminary search has not yielded anything promising (though the Ibex website shows young ladies frolicking on a boat in their wool underwear), but I will keep looking. Has anybody else tried swimming in wool?
This ship is the George A. Kohler, which was a schooner that was grounded in a 1933 hurricane. This ship sat on the beach for ten years before it was burned for her iron fittings during World War II. The remains of this shipwreck has report to be seen both in the surf and on the sand.
And one shot of the gorgeous, bathed in setting sun beach. Notice how empty it is right now!
Living the life in beach paradise!
But you see those clouds in the distance. Not a good sign. Nope, not at all... Stopping briefly in Willcox, I continued on to Chiricahua. I got to the turn off to the park, saw the dark clouds hanging low over the mountains four miles away and quickly turned around and went back to Willcox. I knew that the campground was in a canyon beneath a canopy of trees that provided a good deal of shade. Seeing that layer of dark clouds overhead, I also knew that there would be no sun penetrating into the valley.
The view from the van, near dusk. It was getting cold.
And this is the next morning, after I had cleared off the windows, which were caked with heavy, wet snow. It was just cold enough to make it uncomfortable. I left Kartchner Caverns a few minutes after this picture was taken. I stopped to use the internet and checked the weather....with the forecast in hand, I returned to Chiricahua National Monument.
The mountains along the highway to Chiricahua were topped by a layer of clouds, but blue sky was starting to make an appearance, as was the sun!
The view from Faraway Ranch in Bonita Canyon at the entrance to Chiricahua National Monument, taken in early afternoon of April 23rd. As I set up my tent, there was a brief sprinkling of a rain-snow mix but not enough to cover the ground. Within two hours the clouds had nearly cleared up and the sun was shining. It turned into a beautiful day!
By evening, the clouds had moved back in, making for a dramatic sunset with the distant mountains as a backdrop.
