What's Ahead

"Switchback

turn, turn,
and again, hard-
scrabble
steep travel a-
head."

Gary Snyder, from Hitch Haiku.

I've made two relatively short rides since the last post. A few days back, late afternoon, rode to Middleton and out Airport Road to test out the start of the ride. But I didn't have a map or recall the course, so I simply rode out Airport for awhile, crested two good-sized hills, admired the view, and turned back toward town. I caught the tail end of good ol' Pleasant View Road, a part I'd never seen before (so many discoveries), so I followed that, a remnant country two-lane, still hanging onto its old nature, but with signs of civilization creeping ever in on it, mostly on the backside of urbanization.

The road rounded up toward a junction with Old Sauk Road, and an ancient white and tiny Lutheran Church, used, I understand, only for ceremonies now, not regularly. As I climbed the hill toward the junction, I noticed a tiny cemetery, maybe six or eight tombstones, off the side of the road. Someone is caring for it, but I couldn't help wonder about the souls there, no doubt placed when it was isolated lonely countryside, now more or less an urban afterthought. Anyway, I took Old Sauk into town, and back home, maybe 15 miles, but it was dinnertime after all.

That night I checked the map and the route. Next day, after dropping Daniel off at camp, I drove a detour and followed Airport out to the aptly named Enchanged Valley Road, a few more miles and hills out from Middleton. A remarkable little road, winding two-lane blacktop, past farms and country retreats and the slightest hint of an exclusive development, which appears to have been stalled by the economy. I drove past a herd of goats, and past a pair of horsewomen trotting along the highway, and caught Hiway P, which I followed to Cross Plains, then home on 14. Once again, a delightful discovery, and I determined to ride it soon. But weather and obligations kept rising up, and it got put off.

Until this morning.

I set out in a breezeless sunny dawn, got one mile out, just before the point of safe return, and realized I'd forgotten my ID and money; I debated briefly, then turned back -- if I'm going to have an accident while alone on country roads on my bicycle, I think I'd like whoever comes across my broken body to know who I am without undue delay; besides, I was envisioning breakfast or brunch in Cross Plains. Another couple miles added to the start. I deliberately rode down Mt. Nemesis, a delightful descent, and followed the bike trail under University Avenue and then parallel to it. The route then turned away from University, and I followed, past nice old lakefront houses, some really little more than gussied up cabins. I liked the new route, a back way across town, behind the busy streets. I was delighted to come upon "Baker Avenue", which I took as an omen. I knew I'd seen it before, from University, and thought I'd found its other end; but I was wrong.

Turns out the bike route was simply meant to move bikes away from the Avenue for a bit, and then I was dumped right back there, a few blocks further west after several blocks north, then south. Purty much a waste of time and energy, but I reminded myself I was in this for the ride, not the accomplishment, and there was no hurry. Then to Century Avenue, up a long hill, and out Airport, over those hills again, sweat dripping in my eyes (forgot the bandana, too). Stopped shortly after beginning Enchanted Valley Road, at a large isolated tree, where I stood and ate Gu and a few bites of a Clif bar, hearing Sherpa words in my ear, "take it easy, do it right, no hurry, at your own pace." I tipped my water bottle toward the image of Paul, and set out again. Pure country, almost heaven, as Mr. Denver might have sung. Past goats, cows, horses, cattails, a murky green-capped pond, sun warm but not hot, grasses and trees and wildflowers, a bit of strain, and gentling into a glorious long descent into calm flatness. As in Theodore Roethke, "The hill becomes the valley, and is still" (from The Right Thing).

Suddenly there was County Highway P, and the road to Cross Plains. And then, sooner than seemed right, I was in Cross Plains, a fairly unlovely little settlement, at least what I saw, gas stations and fast food, convenience stores; a school and houses; and then I was on Highway 14. I'd meant to continue on P, but what the hay. I went where I was headed.

And that was down 14, a busy undivided highway, cars and trucks whizzing past, the sun beginning to get hot, no shade, blotches of deceased wildlife marking the roadway, gravel and debris on the shoulder, mostly flat. Not pleasant, but tolerable and I averaged in the upper teens all the way into Middleton. I toyed with the idea of closing out the ride by climbing Nemesis but said the Hell with it, let him triumph for once, and rolled on home, 30 miles in about two and a half-hours, and feeling pretty damn good. A quick shower, and to the office to do some official work.

So, the dilemma remains. Can I do this Century? 30 to 50 miles I'm good, I handled the hills, but 100? Who knows? Neighbor Rob and I are planning a 50 miler this Sunday. Maybe then I'll know. Stay tuned.