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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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