This weekend, Knox and I rode the Seattle to Portland Classic. Doing it at least once is de rigeur if you call yourself a biker in the Northwest. In fact, it was the one big ride I wanted to do this year; all the other ones we just added in our cabin-fever enthusiasm this past winter.
I enjoyed the ride very much. For the most part, it wasn’t terribly scenic, though we had magnificent views of Mt. Rainier as we rode towards Renton, and traversed some pretty farm country in southern Washington. There were thousands of riders, in all varieties: the super-fast cyclists, of course, as well as families with kids, folks with physical disabilities, and occasional riders who were struggling in pain the whole way.
In a ride of this size, one didn’t really have a chance to pretend to be riding alone, but people were well-mannered for the most part. I had to chuckle, though, about the various archetypes that manifested themselves:
those with the need for speed, passing constantly on the left with nary a heads up or a gap between themselves and the slower bikers
the wanna-be bike teams, often a collection of the above, riding back-tire-to-front-tire, as though this were a race where drafting mattered or made much of a difference
the social butterflies riding two or three abreast in spite of the rules, taking up the whole wide shoulder and making it hard to pass
the super-conscientious bike-citizens, gesticulating wildly now with their left hand, now with their right, at every single minor bump, pothole, and grating on the road
the citizen’s posse, a collection of the above, who would emit a chorus of “stopping” “STOPping” “stooopping” “stopping!!” followed by “going!” “Going!” “GOOO-ING” “going!” at every stop sign. The imp in me was very tempted to see whether I could start a chorus of my own by infiltrating them and yelling out “farting!”
Cascade’s support was really good, I thought: the food was ample and delicious (the best PB&J I’ve had, and some delicious turkey wraps). There were long lines for food and water at several of the rest stops, though; I wonder whether there’s a way to organize that better.
We’re thinking that the next time we bike to Portland, we’ll do it on our own, but I was glad to get this ride under my belt. It was the first time I biked two centuries in two consecutive days!
