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The Road Less Traveled

09.15.2009 by Ray Niekamp // 4 Comments

HemmelsRide

Sometimes it’s good to get away. A lot of times, that’s exactly what cycling provides, an escape, be it from work, stress, boredom, whatever. Every so often, however, I think we need an escape from our own everyday ride. That’s why this summer, just before leaving for vacation, I put a roof rack on the car and took my bike along for the trip.

My destination alone provided enough of a diversion. My normal routes at home in Florida are flat, flatter, and flattest. There’s also usually a lot of traffic to deal with at various points of the journey. Contrast that with these scenes from the Adirondack Mountains of Upstate NY. The roads were quiet, the hills occasionally quite steep, and a lot of times the peloton consists of some pretty slow-moving guys with black spots. See, there’s a hillside full of them now:

Cows

My favorite part, however, was that I often had no idea what was around the next bend. Sure I had explored this area on mountain bike before, but with my road bike my range became so much farther, and the sights so much more unexpected. One day I pedaled down a nearly deserted road, crested a hill, and discovered this:

River

On the journey home, we stopped in Alexandria, VA, right across the Potomac from our nation’s capital. Though my riding gear was buried deep inside our Thule cartop carrier and the next day’s schedule called for some on-foot exploration of the monuments and Smithsonian, the friend we were visiting urged me to get up early and check out the Mt. Vernon Trail. It was worth it. Winding directly alongside the river (as well as, for a few surreal moments, the runways of Reagan National), it afforded amazing views of the city. Stuff like this…

Potomac

And if you cross the bridge, this…

WH

Sure, I could see these sights in typical tourist fashion. On my bike, however, it all seemed so much cooler. I not only had the freedom to go where I wanted to go, but I often had no idea where the path would lead. And I loved every minute of it.

I’m home now, back in Florida, and back on the familiar, flat roads and paved trails I’ve ridden time and time again. The break from the norm, however, made me appreciate even more just how great cycling is. And made me even more curious about what’s around all those corners just beyond my normal cycling backyard.

That’s why the bike rack is staying on the car this fall. Because some weekend, when the routine is getting a little too routine, I’m going to see what’s out there…even if I have to drive a few miles first to find it.

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Bike-Chasing Dogs…And Dog-Chasing Bikes

07.31.2009 by Ray Niekamp // 9 Comments

hemmelsride3By Jeff Hemmel — Let me say first, I love dogs. Truth be told I’m not so big on cats, but dogs are my kind of pet. Just not when they’re chasing me on my bike.

Most of the time, that’s not an issue. Leash laws and traffic combine to make things pretty quiet animal-wise on my typical ride. Every summer, however, I get the chance to escape to the Adirondack Mountains of Upstate NY. And while I absolutely love the climbs, the scenery, and the lack of traffic, I don’t like the increase in furry friends I encounter during the course of my ride.

About two weeks ago, I was just beginning the steep, lengthy climb back home when a particularly ferocious dog seemingly came out of nowhere. The dog’s timing couldn’t have been better. Given the abrupt steepness of the hill, I couldn’t outrun him. The road was also narrow and I was approaching a blind curve, meaning I didn’t want to chance making a turn and speeding back downhill. I had no time to grab my water bottle and give him a squirt, and was sure if I attempted to slow and unclip I’d either let him take a chomp or fall. With every turn of the pedals my calf inched closer to dog chow.

So I let instinct take over. I yelled. Then, unable to speed away, I hit the brakes, causing the dog to briefly shoot past. I can’t call what happened next any masterful plan – it was more like pure rage. But I planted my front wheel right on the dog’s tail, like Lance pouncing on Bradley Wiggins. Muttley veered left and I followed. He veered right and I followed again. The look on the dog’s face was sweet revenge, as he clearly didn’t like the idea that my spinning tire was not threatening to take a bite out of his miserable behind. Yes, it would have been a disastrous fall had I actually hit him, but all I could think of at the time was how delighted I was to be turning the tables. Instead of a dog chasing a bike, this was now a bike chasing a dog. Take that, canine.

It worked, albeit briefly. The dog finally broke away, and I rode past, stringing together a combination of curse words that I don’t think even a linguistics professor could decipher. As the dog sat down, I turned my attention back up the road. And that’s when I heard the unsettling sound of nails against pavement.

Yup, the angry pup was answering the bell for Round Two, and I hadn’t even had the chance to rest up in my corner. This time around I lunged for the water bottle, almost wiping out in the process. Problem was he was now attacking from behind, so every twist to see where he was caused me to wobble dangerously in the road. Eventually he made a lunge, and I got him with a decent squirt. One more and he ended the chase.

In the moments that followed, the reality of what had happened began to set in. Fortunately no cars had come along at the same time. I’d hate to think what could have happened had I been worried about both the dog and traffic. I also began to think about how close I came to falling while frantically twisting from side to side to track the dog once he attacked again from behind. I was furious…and scared.

And wondering what to do the next time around. I’m sure fellow Noob readers have had similar close calls. Any suggestions? I’m wondering about keeping a small air horn in my jersey pocket. Think a deafening blast at close range would scare him off?

Does anyone bottle the scent of a vet’s office?

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Rollin’ With the Bobke

07.16.2009 by Ray Niekamp // 6 Comments

Jeff Hemmel was lucky enough to go on a ride recently with Tour de France commentator Bob Roll.  While we’re all in Tour mode, I thought it would be apropos (Mon Dieu, Noob!) if he told us all about it.

HemmelsRideSo anyway, the other day I was out for a ride with Bob Roll when…

Sorry. I’ll pause while you get out the broom. After all, that’s a pretty big name I just dropped. But come on, how often do you get a chance to say something like that? This is Bob Roll I’m talking about, legendary American cycling great, a guy I’ve watched on the Tour-DAY-France coverage for years, a guy who…well…who…who actually knows Lance! And not just knows him, but who actually was there when Armstrong was up in those mountains of Boone, NC pondering giving up the sport of bicycle racing, before Armstrong won all those Tour-DAY-France victories and before completely random people started wearing yellow bracelets with his message sunk into the rubber. The Bobke has played a key role in cycling history. He’s connected, an actual cycling celebrity, a charismatic, balding guy in tights.

And yeah, I was riding with him. Just my normal morning ride. Hanging out with the usual crowd.

Well okay, it wasn’t really that normal. And Bob and I aren’t really that tight. In fact, I’m not even sure I made much of an impression on him. But it was fun nonetheless, if only for the photos I sent out later to friends and family who suddenly wondered how it was I was standing with the Bobke’s arm around my shoulder, both of us clearly sweaty from the epic training ride we had just gone on together, the one where he had probably challenged me to a sprint finish and now we were just hanging out, having a few laughs, probably arguing about who was going to pick up the lunch tab, the Bobke or the Jeffke.

Yeah, that part was fun.

So how did I get this chance? One of my friends and riding buddies, Chris Lauber, saw it in the paper. (Chris is actually a pretty good story himself. Last year he turned 50, and rode 50 centuries in one year, losing a massive amount of weight in the process and whipping himself into shape. But this story is not about the Lauberke, it’s about the Bobke, so sorry Chris, your time is up.) As it turns out, an area bike shop was having a grand opening and Bob was the unlikely guest of honor. He was scheduled to do the classic meet-and-greet one evening, but for those who have jobs they can escape from on a weekday, Roll would also be doing a couple-hour ride in the morning. Who could resist?

I sense an epic coming on, so I’ll try to speed things up. We met up at the shop, posed for the group photo, and took off, a group of about 40 heading out on some pretty quiet roads south of Tampa. Chris and I both live on the beachy side of the bay and didn’t recognize any faces, so we started at the back of the pack, figuring we’d ride a nice paceline and eventually move our way up to Bob, who we assumed was somewhere at the front. I actually never saw him before we left, but I knew he was up there waiting to swap some great stories and grin that goofy grin with each and every one of us.

Or maybe not. By about 10 miles in, I still hadn’t seen the guy. A few more and I was beginning to wonder if he was even up there. Then I started to wonder if he was in fact there, but swapping those funny stories and grinning that goofy grin at some other random dude-kes instead of us. Obviously we had to take matters into our own hands, so we picked up the pace and started to move forward. We passed the guy in the vintage 7-11 kit. (Damn, why hadn’t I thought of that angle!) Elbowed our way past the guy in the Astana kit. (Dude, you work at the shop…you’ve probably already gotten the chance to talk to him for, like, an hour!) And finally, finally, we were riding right alongside Bob Roll. It would be the ultimate picture. I reached for the camera in my jersey pocket…and froze. On the one hand, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I had to do it. Then a headline flashed before my eyes: “Bike Noob Takes Out Legendary Cyclist While Trying To Snap Souvenir Photo In Crowded Pack Of Riders All Trying To Convince Their Friends They Know Bob Roll.”  Slowly I slid the camera back into my pocket.

Besides, my buddy Chris had taken the inside line and now he was the one swapping stories. And well, they were better than mine. Chris (so close to Bob they were practically sweating on each other in the June heat): “Hey Bob, I’m a former big-time professional photographer, and I shot photos of you back in the 7-11 days when you came through Boston.” Me (desperately trying to lean around Chris and sweating on, well, nobody who mattered): “Bob, Bob, I…I…I spent Christmas near Boone last year!”

Before I knew it, the moment had passed, and I dropped back, letting someone else have their shot at that sprint finish, those laughs, that argued-over lunch tab. Sure, I had a second chance back at the shop, and yeah, it lasted a little longer this time around. Bob and I actually talked briefly about Boone, the Florida heat and humidity (I don’t think he’s a fan), and he autographed a couple Tour podium hats.

Then I thrust my camera in Chris’s hand and said, “Quick, get a picture!”

Jeffke&BobLater I realized that the Bobke had actually put his arm around my shoulders, grinned that goofy grin, maybe even sweated a little on me.

I never did see him for lunch, though. Maybe he misunderstood the name of the restaurant…

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