Ride Report: Newberg to Netarts via Nestucca! And back!

Approximately 76.4 miles one way, and 3175 ft elevation gain (and descent!)

March 27-28, 2010

by Elaine Bothe

Ten friends started out at Grandma Virginia’s house in SW Portland. An eclectic bunch at first sight: me, a mtb racer, my hubby Mark, who’s getting back into bicycle shape, Cam, a traithlete who’s training for the Coeur d’Alene Ironman this year, Cam’s brother Kevin on a loaner bike from Cam, Kevin P, and his parents Kay and Brad, all superbly fit and athletic people, susceptible to being coaxed into an occasional cross race when it’s on their own turf in Rainier, and three of their friends including Ryan, Jesse and Danielle, a young woman rocking a classic red Schwinn women’s frame ten speed and platform pedals!

Everyone except Kay, Brad, Mark and myself are in their 20’s. Brad’s over 50. Rock on. Brad recently traded in his ten-speed for a Look roadie that Cam bought and was too big. One big happy family! We all met through motorcycle racing, where Kevin P is exceptionally gifted. So is his brother Brian, their dad Brad, Uncle Keith and even Grandpa, in their day! RIP Keith and Grandpa.

Anyway, the P family owns a cabin in Netarts. They also own a big white van. Excellent excuses for a road trip.

We load up the Element with three bikes, Cam’s truck and the van with gear, more bikes and people. We shuttle to Newberg, park my car and Cam’s truck then disembark westward on a beautiful sunny day, with just a little chill in the air. Heading down Hwy 240, we stick to the main roads through the farmlands outside of town. Carleton comes up by the time we are warmed up, and now we are in a spirited pace line led by Kevin P. All of us. 20 mph plus into the foothills of the coast range. Including Danielle on her ten speed!

We break apart on some rolling hills. Brad P is driving the van, we change drivers about every seven miles. If someone wants to stop, they do, but most of us ride on. It also helps in navigation. There’s a map in the van and the driver stops at the major intersections to make sure everyone is doing OK, Hood-to-Coast style.

Cam the triathlete decides he needs a workout and blows past us on his tri bike in full race trim: aero bars, aero water container thingy, aero wheels and power tap wheel. We joke about getting an electronic reader board to strap across his back so his competition can know, at any time, what he’s laying down power-wise. 500 watts! For a second or two… in his garage…

Anyway, the climb up the coast range on the main road which goes by several names, such as Hendricks, Meadow Lake and finally the legendary Nestucca River Road. If you’re climbing, and generally heading west, you’re on the right road.

Cam, Kevin P, Jesse and Ryan on his blue ten speed with chrome wheels are gone. Brad and I are duking it out up the hill. Kay, Mark, Cam’s brother Kevin and Danielle are behind, but making good progress. Van change, some people climb in to rest, others got out. Now we’re in the forest, climbing the Coast Range. I have to pee really bad, and make a layer change at a van stop. We all get started again. Once the steep stuff really started I had a chain issue… fixed, then I saw a beautifully rusted out small dome hubcap on the side of the road. (I have a thing for rusty metal car parts.)

Hmmm. There are mile marker signs on the trees, maybe for logging purposes, my hubcap was about 20 yards west of 4 ½. Mental note. No, wait, I am not going to stop on the way back… downhill… for anything! So I turn around and head back down for it. Kay catches up, giving me a quizzical look.

“Irresistible!” I announce, holding up my prize.

I carry my treasure for about a mile before the van passes me. Danielle is taking a break to drive and I flag her down and toss the hubcap into the van. I also unload some unnecessary layers. What a resource!

I regain my rhythm up the hill. I see another car part in the middle of the road, a connecting rod, a big one, maybe off a truck. I’m tempted… but this is a lot heavier than the hubcap and the road is steep. So I sadly pass it by. I collect Kay and Brad, and somebody else and we sprint for the crest of the coast range, which happens only about 20 miles or so west of Newberg. I win the sprint! Well, I’m not sure anyone else sprinted, but I did. For fun. Food break at the van, wait for everyone to make it up the hill. Danielle pulls her red ten speed out for the 20 mile descent.

Turns out Hubby Mark had picked up that connecting rod earlier and it fell out of his pocket, denting his rear wheel in the process. Are we a match made in heaven or what?

Food pickup, water bottles refilled, layers back on for the descent. Past the reservoir, down, down next to the river. Winding through the ravines covered in moss, the bumpy pavement in places and the 3 mile long gravel section keeps the traffic count down and the scenery count wayyyyy up. But, downhill, I didn’t notice too much of the scenery. I’m hammering, my heart rate is sub threshold but just barely. I’m having a blast and feeling great.

Some of the pavement is good. Cam and Jesse rail past me, I can’t even grab their wheel downhill despite the invitation. Then Kevin P flies by me, with Danielle in tow! I can’t catch that train either!! I tried! Off they go. I hit 30 mph on the gravel part, but I’m not catching anyone! We come out of the forest 20 miles later, catch our breath and refill water bottles and jersey pockets.

Danielle asks if she can draft behind me, I say sure. We have about another 25 or 26 miles to go. The road into Blaine, then Sandlake to Hwy 101 is still slightly downhill. After spending a good 3 hours up there HR-wise, I’m ready for a little break myself. I find a good rhythm for myself in my high endurance zone, and I’m averaging 20 plus. Danielle hangs on just fine, even through some mild rollers. I keep checking in with her to make sure. I want to keep up a strong effort for myself, but my wheel is helping her a lot so I don’t want to drop her. I manage to do both.

We pick up Kay and Kevin Cam’s brother, and eventually Brad. I’m leading a nice train onto Whisky Creek Road. Everyone drops on the first smaller hill on that road, I ease up at the top to wait. Latched back on, we head to the final climb, another 2.5 mile or so climb that leads up to Cape Lookout. Brad’s trying to keep up, so I keep my efforts up too, harder than I would if I was alone. He’s breathing hard, and through his lips making horse noises! I hear those sounds fading… I salvage a little sprint at the top to make sure.

Mark’s in the van now, and parks at the crest. I stop to say hi and wait for the last few to make it up the hill. Kevin P circles back up the other side! He wants to make sure Danielle is doing OK. He heads downhill for her, while we debate if Mark should drive down to meet her too. Suddenly we see Kevin’s head bobbing up the crest, followed by Danielle. Her face is as red as her bike but she made it. And she wants to ride her bike in, we’re less than 5 miles away from the cabin! Hooray for her, I give her the bad-ass award for the whole weekend right there.

Kevin hops in the van with Mark to lead him in and we all bomb down the hill. Another quick van stop (I keep going at a nice cool down rate) then in to Netarts. I hear the van behind me, Kevin’s yelling that I missed the turn! Do you want a ride? No, I’m fine, I’m cooling down. I overshot the turn by about a half mile. What the heck, after 76.4 miles, what’s one more. They lead me in and I’m the last one to the cabin!

What a ride, I’m the only one that rode the whole way. Kevin P did some backtracking but pulled a shift or two in the van. Mark took my driving shift, I really didn’t want to drive and Mark was quite done with riding, so it worked perfectly. Again, a match made in heaven!

A restful evening with Mexican food, conversation and … TIM TAM SLAMS! I packed them from Portland, since they’re ON SALE AT FRED MEYER! What fun.

The return trip home on Sunday was soaking wet pouring pouring rain and windy!! Heavy side or front ¾ wind for 20 miles except, mercifully, the climbs. My wheel was the popular spot, since I had the only fender in the whole group, complete with a race team-approved buddy flap. I set a comfortable pace at the high end of my endurance zone and it seemed to suit everyone just fine. At the front, I had only the rain, not road spray in my face, so I was happy as a clam pulling.

Turning east in Beaver gave us a bit of a tailwind, so our pace was quicker. Mark drove for the first 20 miles then jumped out in front for a bit, then tried to tuck in behind me but Brad hung onto my fender-clad wheel for dear life. He thoroughly enjoyed the shelter.

Cam decided to get his workout done early to stay warm, and he and two others blasted ahead up the road. Kevin P stuck with us a while, giving me a little break at the front then decided to chase down Cam. That 20 mile descent from Saturday? Well on Sunday, it’s a 20 mile climb. Mostly gradual, but with some unbelievably steep stuff toward the top.

I noticed a lot more scenery this way, since I was going just over half as fast as yesterday. With the rain, all the hillsides dripped with green moss and water. Vertical rock faces, big trees, fast moving water, just a gorgeous part of the planet. What an experience.

Many thanks to the P family for their support and the hospitality, what a great family and what wonderful friends. I'm looking forward to many more rides and the race seasons... plural... motorcycle AND bicycle this year!

Resources:

Nestucca River photo by Debra Drake, public domain, via www.byways.org

Here's the link to the Nestucca River Road Google Map that Kevin P put together.

2010 MTB: Echo Red to Red Race Report

Race Report

Echo Red to Red, March 6, 2010

Category 1 Women, 9th place!

by Elaine Bothe

The first mtb race of the year, with Sage and myself representing the Sorellas in some amazing weather way out in Eastern Oregon. Not a trace of mud anywhere, but lots and lots of bumpy singletrack.

And it’s my cross-country debut as a Cat 1. I’m nervous. After discounting some serious mistakes I made at the start (like being late for staging, oops!) therefore having to start toward the back of the mass start for what musta’ been 100 Pros/Cat 1/Singlespeed men and women, I am pleased with my effort yet there is always room for improvement.

Proud I didn’t get dropped in the neutral 2 mile roll-out, I see Michelle Hannaford’s braids up ahead—she was my nemesis and buddy from Cat 2 Masters last year, she upgraded too! But I couldn't really work my way up much, there were so many people. And it was supposed to be neutral.

Once I got going on the singletrack I started to fly. I picked off some singlespeeders and other riders, including a couple of women. We all have red tags, Pros and Cat 1s, so I’m racing everybody with a ponytail and scoring can sort it out later. Sue Butler (our local hero who is ranked in the top 20 of the world in cyclocross), Michelle, and a bunch of others, however, are long gone.

We’re all strung out like Christmas lights along the serpentine trails. You can see for miles... uphills, downhills, nothing too sustained one way or the other. Bump-y! hardpack greeted my hardtail, thus making my own tail, well, sore. I start to think to myself, hmmm, an extra spring in the back (of my bike!) sure might be nice about now. Turns out everyone suffered, suspension or no.

But I’m enjoying the weather, riding as hard as I can, my HR monitor pooped out but I’m sure I spent the whole time near if not in the hard interval zone... a woman up ahead, I’m closing in, slowly but surely. By now the leaders of the Cat 2 Men’s race, which started a full 15 minutes after my group, were catching us back-markers. Polite passing, I never had to stop, we just chatted and made it all work. I tried to hang onto those wheels as long as I could. One guy passed me, and, hearing a rider coming up, the woman I was stalking pulled off the trail to let him by!! Well, that was too good of an opportunity to pass up, so I rode past her too.

The Pros/Cat 1s shared the first 21 miles with everybody else, and I was finding markers all over the place from last year’s race. I remembered a lot of the hills, creek beds and turns, the rocky stretch where I flatted last year, a cool bridge to ride over then under later, but I couldn’t find the scary parts. I looked really hard, but the treacherous traverses and other scary stuff I remembered just weren’t there. Fortunately, not because they changed the course any, but because my skills grew over last year!

Just when I was about ready to head on into the barn with the Cat 2s and 3s, no! let's see where this other trail goes. 7 or 8 more miles’ worth of entertainment, even though my legs were already screaming full volume. Down a hill, to a really swoopy and swampy orchard full of logs to pop over, bridges, banks and obstacles. FUN!!

A big creek, 30 feet across and a big ol’ log. Cool! I'll ride it, even though it’s 6 feet over fast running water! ERKK! Nope, running it will be just fine, I do NOT want to fall. Cyclocross remount and off I go again. I look across a field to a cliff with ants crawling across it in a diagonal pattern. Ohhhh, that’s the trail, those are bicyclists! and they're walking! uh oh! I attack the hill, having to run a couple of parts but mostly riding it to the cheers of some men I passed as they walked! (OK, most were single speeders, but not all. I checked to make sure.)

A warm cup of HEED at the aid station, the last bits of uphill and sandy traverse to the top of a magnificent ridge overlooking the valley and the Columbia River in the distance, up past the vineyards back onto the gravel road toward the finish. Ahhh, said my butt. Smooth. I down my last two Clif blocks just in case I need a last ditch burst of speed for any reason.

It’s all headwind home, I get into the best tuck a mt bike can provide. TT it, I tell myself. I look back to make sure no one’s coming, head down and pedal. Tire sounds. Ready. oh, a guy. He’s really moving. back to business. More tires. A girl. “Great race!” she said as she passes. “Yeah!” I replied to her. But I thought to myself, who’s done racing? not me!

As I look over to her, I notice she’s on a 29er. Now that’s a mighty inviting wheel if I ever saw one. About a half mile out, too! I can’t believe she made the pass so I glom on. It’s not hard to hang on, and I’m glad I’m out of the wind. Well, I got my bit of recovery, and about a hundred yards out from the finish I stood up and hammered. No warning, no shifting gears, no looking back I just attacked. It worked! I doubt she’ll ever make that mistake again.

What a day. A great race, a burrito with Sage (who finished 4th in the Cat 2 Masters) and my sister Julia and a few other people we knew, sitting in the sun and not winning raffle prizes.

I finished 9th… Michelle finished a spectacular 3rd in the Cat 1s. Wow! Looks like I have some more work to do this year.

Photo courtesy of Oregon Velo.