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Unicyclist Survives Davis to Folsom ride



 
 
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Old June 29th 04, 05:37 AM
Cycle America
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Default Unicyclist Survives Davis to Folsom ride

What follows is TransAm unicyclist Patrick Thomas's description of the
ride you saw Reno Wheelman bike prez, Mike Damon, talk about a few
weeks ago now as per
http://www.nationalbicyclegreenway.c...Reports/Archiv
es/cat_2004.php#000239. While Mike and Jack Martin were buzzing back
and forth on the beautiful American River trails appraising city
officials of our status, and us Hi Wheelers were trying to maintain the
brisk pace Jacques Graber and Robert Howe were setting as they easily
pedaled away and Don Loomis struggled with his overloaded recumbent
bicycle and Barbara Hatch followed up the rear on her Rollerblades,
Patrick who kept having to take breaks because of the heat, fell further
and further behind. When I'd see Don at the stops I kept asking him how
Patrick was doing and if he at one point had told me Patrick was out of
food, I did not hear him because of all the excitement that was at hand.

And now that it's over, about all I can do is chalk Patrick's difficult
ride up to is experience for which I accept much of the blame. And I can
only hope to improve upon this run next year. I know Patrick, who has
not once complained about this or any part of of his ride, learned a
lot about his own personal limits as well...

THX Patrick. U have the respect of cyclists far and wide!

And before I give you Patrick, here is how Max Chen introduced Patrick's
handwritten fax that he transcribed for us:

========================================
while i was typing this I kept thinking, "if 50 miles
is this torturous, he's never going to make it." but
i guess he's somewhere past Reno now. vultures have
probably singled him out and are constantly circling
above his head. i eagerly wait for the next
installment.
-max
========================================

Days 2 and 3/ June 12 and 13

As a preface, I wish to thank the following
individuals for helping me get the word out: Max
Chen, for typing these words; Martin Krieg, for
motivating me to write, in the first place; Ade
Adeyemi for posting these words to my site and Larry
Hamel, for setting up the on-line journal on my
behalf.

I took advantage of a rest day on Saturday, June 12,
to hang out around San Rafael. On Sunday, June 13, I
made a plunge eastward to Davis, in order to connect
with cyclists for a ride to Folsom on Monday, 6/14.
Sunday was a fantastic day. Travelling through the
breathtaking, rural roads of Novato, and the
vineyard-draped paths of Sonoma and Napa, I arrived in
Davis.

As I passed through the town of Sonoma, the locals
were celebrating the Hanging (sp?) Bean Festival. The
central square was beautifully decorated, bands played
and several booths sold everything from tempting
delicacies, to irresistible jewelry. As I walked
though the square, one man, who was sitting in the
grass, got up and stumbled over to me. It was clear
that he was under the spell of a drink or two, but
during the whole episode, he was totally cool with me.
He pointed at the unicycle that I was walking with,
and said, ìI bet you can't ride that. By this time,
he and I, all of a sudden, were performers on a stage
and several people had already taken their seats to
watch the show.

I knew that no explanation, such as the fact that I
was tired and/or taking a break from riding, would
placate the crowd. Out of fear of causing a riot and
being pelted with rotten cabbage, tomatoes and eggs, I
mounted my unicycle and, to the glee of the audience,
pedaled to the other side of the square. Encounters
like these remind me of how unusual a mode of
transportation the unicycle is. It never ceases to
amaze me. I have been riding a unicycle for almost
30 years and do so for my own enjoyment and not as a
performer. When I do attract attention and bring joy
to others by doing what I love, it only heightens my
pleasure.

Monday, June 14, was an incredible day. It was a
launch date for the National Mayorís Ride
(www.bikeroute.com) from Davis to Folsom. It was a
gorgeous morning, sunny and warm, and we gathered in a
park. The mayor was present as were delegates from
Davis's sister city in South Korea, who were looking
into ways of making their city more bike friendly.
There were many 2-wheeled cyclists, Penny Farthing
specialists, recumbent pilots and Barbara, our
honorary rollerblader. After a few brief
presentations, including proclamations by the mayor,
expressing her support for creation and upkeep of safe
and accessible bike paths, and the customary photo
shoot, we were off, through the streets of Davis and
on to Sacramento.

Davis IS a bikerís mecca and it is a head rush to
navigate a city whose streets are designed for drivers
and cyclists on an equal basis. San Francisco too, is
bicycle friendly (with a lot of work yet to do, ed)
but Davis takes warmth towards
cyclists to a level all its own. It seemed that every
street (or every other street) is paved with bike
lanes and the drivers are respectful toward their
two-wheeled sisters and brothers. Davis rocks!

As we made our way toward the causeway (great bike
path that parallels highway 80), you could have
thought that the circus had arrived to town! Imagine
the scene: conventional, two-wheeled cyclists, Penny
Farthing navigators, recumbent bike pilots, a roller
bladder and unicyclist in tow! With Davis's mayor and
the South Koreans along for part of the ride, we
formed a United Nations on wheels!

To watch a Penny Farthing cyclist in action is a sight
to behold! It reminds me of the huge bird (perhaps,
the Condor) as it lifts off and takes flight. The
Penny Farthing cyclist takes the first couple of fleet
steps, hops into the saddle, spreads his/her wings,
gains altitude and starts to soar. Though a bit
awkward and unsteady at the outset, once the cyclist
is in the air, he/she is simply the embodiment of
grace.

For the duration of the ride from Davis to Folsom
(approximately, 50 miles), the theme of my thoughts
was: what was I thinking. It became obvious, early
on, that on my 24-inch unicycle tire there was no way
I was going to keep up with my multi-wheeled
companions. Jack (from Folsom), Faye (from Palo Alto)
and Mike (from Reno) were very patient with me. Bless
their souls! While I was pedaling away, drenched in
sweat in the 80 to 90 degree heat and feverishly
trying to keep up, my three mates were mercifully
riding at 1/3 of their potential speed, so as not
to leave me behind. While Mike and Jack stopped and
waited behind for Don (from San Jose) to arrive, Faye
and I cycled together toward Sacramento. She was a
wonderful riding companion and I as so glad to have
her because, for the bulk of the remainder of the day,
I was going to ride alone.

After brief and welcomed stops before the Capitol in
Sacramento and Old Sacramento during which we ate only
cookies, we entered the American River Parkway,
multi-use path toward Rancho Cordova and Folsom. This
would be the last I would see of most of my traveling
mates because, by the time I finally reached Folsom,
several hours later, they had already returned home.

Before mile 5 on the Parkway, I had already gotten a flat on a brand new
tire and tube, both of which I had just bought 4 days
earlier. After a quick fix, I was back in the saddle.
If I had been by myself, I probably would not have
finished the course. Knowing that my mates were
waiting for me, miles ahead, was the main motivation
that propelled me onward. There was no relief from
the relentless heat that ravages your will and
consumes your resolve. Every single fountain I
encountered was an automatic dismount and hydration
break. The problem was, the temperature of the
fountain water was normally a degree or two below
boiling so this provided little or no relief.
Furthermore, the cookies we ate in Sacramento were not
enough fuel in my tank. Looking at the map, I
rejoiced at the fact that at mile 18, there was a bar.

I fantasized about getting a drink and sandwich
before plowing ahead. Upon reaching mile 18, I was
devastated to discover that the bar depicted on the
map was not a food and drink bar but rather a sand
bar. I was beside myself at this point yet I decided
to channel my dire disappointment toward forward
motion.

By the time I reached the fish hatcheries and the
Folsom Dam, I could not ride anymore. I was sore,
hungry, tired, parched and disillusioned.
Nevertheless, because I had already reached beyond
mile 40, there was NO force in the universe that could
keep me from reaching Folsom. If I had to crawl the
remaining 5 or so miles, I would have. Don kept
checking in on me, monitoring my progress and
encouraging me. He kept telling me that I was close
but, as far as I was concerned, if I could not see the
pizzeria where he was waiting, I was leagues away.

When I finally stumbled across the pedestrian/bike
path, that crosses the American River and leads to
downtown Folsom, and dragged myself into Classicoís
Pizza on Sutter Street, I was a changed man. I had
been razed to ashes in the fire and rebuilt. The
cauldron of the human spirit is potent, indeed.
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