Browntown Fondo!

AKA Urban 100. Damn that ride is a pain in the ass. Too many friggin' distractions in the city. Too many mechanicals and flat tires as well. On the up side, stopped to change a flat, found a nickel bag. (The rest of that story is confidential.) Of course it was disposed of properly!

Yeah, yeah, I know it says 87 miles, but the computer batteries died about 5 miles from the finish. Davis has like 95 total on his. A few trails were left on the table so we now know it is in fact doable. Ran out of time (dinner reservations), besides, my tongue was getting caught in my derailleur it was hangin' so low. To paraphrase Davis' quote of Richard Childress quoting Dale Earnhart Sr, I had to soak my socks in kerosene, cause the ants were bitin' my candy ass.

We're calling it done so we can move on. Note the trick, super secret back entrance to Pocahontas SP at Courthouse Road and 288. Sweet! No photos, camera is just dead weight and yet another distraction.

Next weekend I vow to spend less than seven hours on a bike! My ass is sore.

Wild Bill's Skyline Double Fondo

AKA: Reversal of Fortune!

Damn. What better way to spend a weekend than back to back centuries up & down the spine of the Blue Ridge? Well, how about making it 8-stages, fully self-supported, ultra-light touring style. No sag wagon, no bailouts. This ride had everything: hills, thrills, chills, canadians, bikers, chicks, canadian biker chicks, rain, pain, food, beers, bears, scats, flats, blowouts, blowups, fog, horns, foghorn and at least one speedo, to name but a few.

Eight well-nourished and perfectly sane souls left Rockfish Gap on a perfectly beautiful Friday morning, and blissfully pedaled north into Shennandoah NP with only the provisions they could carry on their backs and/or racks. The pleasantries lasted precisely 22 minutes before the attacks started coming. And it was on! While not formally a race of any kind, there was no recordkeeping, it was pretty apparent that some people were taking this shit personal. It wasn't long in the oxygen deprived state that foghorn imagined himself in a 2-day stage race. There are no turns, and rest stops with food and water and toilets, etc are 25 miles apart along the route-Perfecto!

Joe Fish, Scottie D., British Dave, Wild Bill, Foster, J-Pac, Foghorn and Jeremy;

Joe Fish established himself as a fixture at the front early and often. In fact the only time we could put him in distress was when he was only the pay phone at aid station 3 and we all jumped on our bikes and bolted! Keeping his wheel on the climbs was quite a good bit of work and the descents were screaming! In true tour style there were no granny gears so even when you were in your lowest gear it was grunt-fest. Two & three guys, loaded with gear, bombing down hill at 35+ mph, dodging cars & potholes & whatever else the road may throw at you was a blast. Pass on the left, draft on the right, pass on the left, draft on the right... incredible!

The Big Meadows Protein Pill

Big Meadows lodge and campground is the high point and half-way point of the ride (both days). It is cold and windy as shit there. The food is decent and there are plenty of tourist to feed. Once you roll out "it's all down hill from here!" Day 1 allows some bomb-ass downhills of like 5 and 7 miles into Front Royal. Unfortunately, Day 2 begins with the "Reversal of Fortune," all that descending is stacked up in front of you, first thing in the morning.

Missin' ya, good buddy!

Sir Tony Brown, this ride had your name written all over it, literally! It's really hard to imagine that you weren't actually there. It's a good sign that we can have fun without you, though (all puns are intended).

This was good visibility in Stage 8.

The "Reversal of Fortune" reared it's ugly head again at the start of Stage 7, when the elements turned a bit nasty. Fog, wind, rain really put a damper on the downhilling, and made climbing into the unknown abyss excruciating. The photo above was an area of good visibility! A few minutes before Scottie D, a black bear crossed the road here.

In the end the attrition rate approached 50%, as British Dave succumbed to a nasty tire blowout, J-Pac refused to get out of bed on Day 2, and Bill, well as of post time, there is no report on Bill. I am sure he's fine. Scottie, Joe and I left the last aid station together, and Scottie and I watched Joe hang it way out on some slippery, foggy down hills, and slip away into the mist on the ensuing climb. A solo 20 mile ride to victory. Ahhh, youth!

Finishers Club!

Jeremy, Joe, Foster, Scottie, Foghorn behind the lens

Day 1 here 6 hr 43 min/8200 calories

Day 2 here 7 hr 37 min/8700 calories

Love It When a Plan Comes Together!

Unfortunately, Saturday's "TB Farewell Urban 100" ride was not one of those instances. It typical Foghorn fashion, poorly organized, sparsely attended, a SNAFU from the gun. It was like a ride that never wanted itself to happen. In a fitting farewell, TB showed up late, rode off the front early (like mile #0.5) and was gone. We found him 2 hours later showered, dressed and painting his bathroom. Some say premeditated, some say typical TB membo (aka: male bimbo). Beyond that, the first couple of hours saw several crashed, two flat tires and an episode hither to only be referenced as the "poison ivy pandemic". I'm still itchin' all over, although the rash never appeared.


This was the last we'd see of TB.











Foster & Jeff on the flood wall.












This was the last we'd see of Pibby & Dave.













THe selection was made, and the chosen few got lunch and beers at Chez Andy. Actually, I think that was beer and lunch. Bob and Andy jumped in for a post-lunch Powhite session.





In the end, it was 100K not 100m for Scottie D., Mean T Green, Jeffrey and myself, but my ass was pretty whooped regardless. A lot was learned, and a lot was left on the table for the next attempt. Forest Hill turned out to be a right decent base camp, Stu showed us some new new trails and one helluva poison ivy patch. We got to see our peeps in the Urban Insult on both sides of the river, and the after party was mellow but awesome, with a backyard presentation of Cutters. Thanks to Ian & Molly for that. Wish I had some more photos, but I either had a handlebar, BBQ sandwich or beer in my hand pretty much all day.

Appropriately, the GPX file for that ride mysteriously became corrupted, and in that sense, it really never did happen. So no ride map for you techno-geeks, sorry.

FOghorn will be in seclusion this weekend on Skyline Drive for Bill Rider's (love that name, why can't I have a cool name like that?) Skyline traverse, an unsupported out & back event from Rockfish Gap to Front Royal, and vice versa. Fingers crossed for a successful event and safe return. Report next week!

Check out Peter!

Check out FLP sponsored rider Peter G. in the Urban Assault!

Also gets a bonus for a noble attempt (emphasize attempt) at sneaking through both heckle points along the course. Didn't happen though.

That ride time puts you on top of the podium in women's expert, Pete!