Readytoride
Well-Known Member
- Region
- USA
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- Virginia
42 Mile Tour of beautiful Madison County, VA
Yesterday was to be the 34th annual Tour de Madison bike ride...except the 33rd annual in 2020 wasn't ... for obvious reasons (cough Covid cough).
So yesterday the revived, recycled, and renewed 33rd ride was held, albeit one year later. It saw a total of 480 riders signed up, much to the delight of the organizers. All that pent up demand to get out and enjoy an organized ride filled the three distances offered: metric century (60 miles), 42 mile (67 km), and a 20 mile (48 km) "family" distance. The ride was scheduled for a perfect day with perfect weather and perfect scenery to ooooh and ahhh over.
Who could have predicted that a cyber attack on a major East Coast pipeline supplier would happen only a week prior, throwing every motorist (except those of us with electric cars) into a panicked tailspin of hoarding gas and buying out, thus effectively shutting down, almost every gas station from Georgia to Maryland. It was Covid all over again, but this time in a gas can.
Even though about 100 riders were a no show from the gas shortage issue, most of the cyclists entered in the Tour were more resourceful, carpooling with friends who had big vans, multi-bike carriers, and pickups that could carry an entire flotilla of bikes and their riders. Lack of gas wasn't going to deter this crowd. We wanted to ride, and ride we did.
122 riders were in my distance, but due to Covid rules there was no mass start for any distance. Each of us took off on our course after checking in, making the start very relaxed and very easy going. This was the view that greeted me for the first 10 miles: Shenandoah National Park and the Appalachian Mountain Range. One of the oldest mountain ranges on our planet.
My photographs couldn't even begin to do these mountains justice in capturing their stunning beauty, but I was so amazed at the gorgeous scenery I was certainly going to try to capture at least some decent images. My stopping to take pictures somewhat confused the riders behind me as they passed - guessing no one on these rides ever stops to whip out a camera for a snapshot because they are all worried they might not get back to the ride site before the sun goes down (the undying curse of the analog bike rider) - and each slowed down to ask if I was OK. So sweet! I assured them I was fine, and a few minutes later, while passing each one, told them I had gotten some great photos.
I'm sure they thought I was a bit crazy. Who goes to a ride to stop and take photos? Seriously, the entire aim of a ride is to torture oneself grinding up hills, and flying downhill to slingshot oneself up the inevitable next hill. Honestly, I think they're the crazy ones, but I didn't bother to relay that. I merely enjoyed 42 miles of some of the prettiest scenery, rocketed down the hills with carefree abandon, while letting my Vado tackle the uphills as I sightseed.
The residences and properties along the way ran the gamut of huge, proud, and massively imposing brick and stucco manor houses set high and smugly on lofty knolls of pristine, beautifully groomed landscapes to rusty redneck trailers in deep shade "hallows" with a plethora of junk decorating weedy perimeters that obviously hadn't seen a working lawn mower for the past several months. Or years. Or decades. Or ever.
It was a heady dichotomy of lifestyles in a setting that never failed to awe in the natural beauty of the land. I had to keep reminding myself to look at the road periodically because I was so mesmerized by my surroundings.
There was one moment where I passed the most eclectic garden ever imagined. It was if a garden statuary business had exploded on this one spot adjacent to a trailer house, scattering the most diverse assortment of garden do-dads hither and yon amid which a mirage of colorful flowers sprang up from the earth to highlight each concrete or plastic figurine as if it was specially planted for the enjoyment (or in my case, amusement) of every passerby.
I simply had to turn around and take a photo, again much to the confusion and consternation of the riders coming up behind me, and having to ensure one and all I was fine, including the passing SAG car that slowed down just to make sure I was OK.
A small Chihuahua, taking very seriously its self imposed guarding of the trailer house's front stoop, let me know in no uncertain terms that I should not be taking this photo. I assured the dog I wasn't there to steal any of the planted treasures and would be on my way in a moment when I heard a human voice rise up, addressing the dog, from the crowd of statuary. I paused and looked around, finally spotting the source of the voice as the diminutive head of a tiny elderly woman, bent in her weeding duties I assume, peeked over the heads of her concrete menagerie to see who her little guard dog was yipping at. She was barely as large as her statuary, but since she was the only one moving (or breathing) in that crowd, I waved hello and told her I loved her garden and had stopped to take a picture. She seemed confused and I suspected she hadn't heard me, partly because her yappy little dog had yet to figure out it could shut up at that point, and because I was out on the road and far enough away for her not to hear. So I pointed to her garden, gave her a thumbs up, and mimed taking a photo. I think she smiled and waved, or maybe that was the windmill in front of her spinning in the breeze, it was hard to discern, but I guess my pleasure in her lawn display was acceptable. I took my photo, packed away my phone, gave her a final thumbs up, and continued on my way, grinning up a storm.
I had packed my 500w second battery with me since I wasn't sure if my 606w battery would be enough for the distance with the hills. But since the initial 10 miles was essentially downhill, I was able to cuise easily in the Vado's eco mode, saving electrons. I suppose it was just my opinion, certainly not a fact, but it felt like most of the ride was downhill with very few uphills. I have gotten less self-conscious at passing other riders going up hills, and now just politely announce I was passing on the left and no longer added a self-effacing apology. I just laugh now when I hear a rider call out that they want my bike.
At each of the rest stops it was always the older guys who would come over to check out my bike and ask questions. I didn't see any other electric bikes on the ride, and a lady my age, riding alone without a hubby tagging along, is really an anonomly. There are so few women on these rides anyway, so I was very much an unusual sight. A chimera. With a bike well worth investigating. One older gentleman told me about another elderly rider, about 70 years old he said, who flew past him on a recent ride. "Going up hill?" I asked. He nodded and said that was the only way he knew the other rider was on an electric bike because it was one with the battery on the downtube. "You couldn't tell it was electric", he explained, "it looked like a regular bike except he passed me going uphill like a rocket." He was really examining my bike with great interest as I talked about the latest lightweight electric road bikes. I am pretty sure there would be a lightweight electric under him before long, and he'd be the subject of the other older guys watching him rocket up hills with happy alacrity.
At one point during the ride I came across a knot of riders on the side of the road. Someone had had a flat which another rider was fixing. I stopped a bit away from the group to take a shot with the mountains in the distance, and to take a drink. Several more riders coming up decided to stop for a moment as well and the spot started to get a bit crowded. I took off at that point, enjoying the day, the roads, the course, and the fact that my Vado was performing in silent perfection.
By the time I was back on the 10 mile road heading to the ride site my knees were telling me they'd had enough. My battery was at about 23%, so I threw the bike into turbo and cruised the final uphill in comfort. I arrived back at the car with 6% battery remaining. Not bad. Not bad at all.
I'd given my hubby my lunch ticket and found him relaxing in his lawn chair next to the car, chowing down a pulled pork sandwich, coleslaw, potato salad and a fruit cup as I pulled up. He was in heaven. The rider parked one vehicle over from us arrived a few minutes after me. An older gentleman who looked completely beat. I asked how he liked the ride, and he said in an utterly exhausted voice, it "about killed" him. All the hills, he said. Must have been those hills I didn't notice because the Vado was having too much fun zipping up them in turbo. I asked if he had a long way to travel to go home. "No. I live locally", he said. I laughed and said he could have just ridden home rather than expend the precious gas to drive to the ride. "No way!" he exclaimed. "I would be dead, then!"
We talked about the gas situation as we loaded our respective bikes and he said that almost every gas station in Madison County was out of gas. I had noticed the same on our 80 mile trip there. I left to go get my ride t-shirt, a second lunch for hubby which delighted him no end, and then, with the Vado firmly stored onto the bike carrier, said goodbye to our parking lot neighbor and headed the one and a half hours for home. (We did find one, only one, gas station on the way home that actually had gas. Crowded but without the long lines. Pulled in, topped off the 60mpg Prius with 3 gallons at a pre-jump price, and continued to home.)
10/10 would ride this event again on the Vado. It was beyond fun, all the riders were friendly, the volunteers were terrific, the course was just challenging enough, and the scenery about the most beautiful I've ever seen.
Now that I have just installed a hitch on my electric car, I can drive to next year's event with my electric bike on my electric car. A win-win.
Yesterday was to be the 34th annual Tour de Madison bike ride...except the 33rd annual in 2020 wasn't ... for obvious reasons (cough Covid cough).
So yesterday the revived, recycled, and renewed 33rd ride was held, albeit one year later. It saw a total of 480 riders signed up, much to the delight of the organizers. All that pent up demand to get out and enjoy an organized ride filled the three distances offered: metric century (60 miles), 42 mile (67 km), and a 20 mile (48 km) "family" distance. The ride was scheduled for a perfect day with perfect weather and perfect scenery to ooooh and ahhh over.
Who could have predicted that a cyber attack on a major East Coast pipeline supplier would happen only a week prior, throwing every motorist (except those of us with electric cars) into a panicked tailspin of hoarding gas and buying out, thus effectively shutting down, almost every gas station from Georgia to Maryland. It was Covid all over again, but this time in a gas can.
Even though about 100 riders were a no show from the gas shortage issue, most of the cyclists entered in the Tour were more resourceful, carpooling with friends who had big vans, multi-bike carriers, and pickups that could carry an entire flotilla of bikes and their riders. Lack of gas wasn't going to deter this crowd. We wanted to ride, and ride we did.
122 riders were in my distance, but due to Covid rules there was no mass start for any distance. Each of us took off on our course after checking in, making the start very relaxed and very easy going. This was the view that greeted me for the first 10 miles: Shenandoah National Park and the Appalachian Mountain Range. One of the oldest mountain ranges on our planet.
My photographs couldn't even begin to do these mountains justice in capturing their stunning beauty, but I was so amazed at the gorgeous scenery I was certainly going to try to capture at least some decent images. My stopping to take pictures somewhat confused the riders behind me as they passed - guessing no one on these rides ever stops to whip out a camera for a snapshot because they are all worried they might not get back to the ride site before the sun goes down (the undying curse of the analog bike rider) - and each slowed down to ask if I was OK. So sweet! I assured them I was fine, and a few minutes later, while passing each one, told them I had gotten some great photos.
I'm sure they thought I was a bit crazy. Who goes to a ride to stop and take photos? Seriously, the entire aim of a ride is to torture oneself grinding up hills, and flying downhill to slingshot oneself up the inevitable next hill. Honestly, I think they're the crazy ones, but I didn't bother to relay that. I merely enjoyed 42 miles of some of the prettiest scenery, rocketed down the hills with carefree abandon, while letting my Vado tackle the uphills as I sightseed.
The residences and properties along the way ran the gamut of huge, proud, and massively imposing brick and stucco manor houses set high and smugly on lofty knolls of pristine, beautifully groomed landscapes to rusty redneck trailers in deep shade "hallows" with a plethora of junk decorating weedy perimeters that obviously hadn't seen a working lawn mower for the past several months. Or years. Or decades. Or ever.
It was a heady dichotomy of lifestyles in a setting that never failed to awe in the natural beauty of the land. I had to keep reminding myself to look at the road periodically because I was so mesmerized by my surroundings.
There was one moment where I passed the most eclectic garden ever imagined. It was if a garden statuary business had exploded on this one spot adjacent to a trailer house, scattering the most diverse assortment of garden do-dads hither and yon amid which a mirage of colorful flowers sprang up from the earth to highlight each concrete or plastic figurine as if it was specially planted for the enjoyment (or in my case, amusement) of every passerby.
I simply had to turn around and take a photo, again much to the confusion and consternation of the riders coming up behind me, and having to ensure one and all I was fine, including the passing SAG car that slowed down just to make sure I was OK.
A small Chihuahua, taking very seriously its self imposed guarding of the trailer house's front stoop, let me know in no uncertain terms that I should not be taking this photo. I assured the dog I wasn't there to steal any of the planted treasures and would be on my way in a moment when I heard a human voice rise up, addressing the dog, from the crowd of statuary. I paused and looked around, finally spotting the source of the voice as the diminutive head of a tiny elderly woman, bent in her weeding duties I assume, peeked over the heads of her concrete menagerie to see who her little guard dog was yipping at. She was barely as large as her statuary, but since she was the only one moving (or breathing) in that crowd, I waved hello and told her I loved her garden and had stopped to take a picture. She seemed confused and I suspected she hadn't heard me, partly because her yappy little dog had yet to figure out it could shut up at that point, and because I was out on the road and far enough away for her not to hear. So I pointed to her garden, gave her a thumbs up, and mimed taking a photo. I think she smiled and waved, or maybe that was the windmill in front of her spinning in the breeze, it was hard to discern, but I guess my pleasure in her lawn display was acceptable. I took my photo, packed away my phone, gave her a final thumbs up, and continued on my way, grinning up a storm.
I had packed my 500w second battery with me since I wasn't sure if my 606w battery would be enough for the distance with the hills. But since the initial 10 miles was essentially downhill, I was able to cuise easily in the Vado's eco mode, saving electrons. I suppose it was just my opinion, certainly not a fact, but it felt like most of the ride was downhill with very few uphills. I have gotten less self-conscious at passing other riders going up hills, and now just politely announce I was passing on the left and no longer added a self-effacing apology. I just laugh now when I hear a rider call out that they want my bike.
At each of the rest stops it was always the older guys who would come over to check out my bike and ask questions. I didn't see any other electric bikes on the ride, and a lady my age, riding alone without a hubby tagging along, is really an anonomly. There are so few women on these rides anyway, so I was very much an unusual sight. A chimera. With a bike well worth investigating. One older gentleman told me about another elderly rider, about 70 years old he said, who flew past him on a recent ride. "Going up hill?" I asked. He nodded and said that was the only way he knew the other rider was on an electric bike because it was one with the battery on the downtube. "You couldn't tell it was electric", he explained, "it looked like a regular bike except he passed me going uphill like a rocket." He was really examining my bike with great interest as I talked about the latest lightweight electric road bikes. I am pretty sure there would be a lightweight electric under him before long, and he'd be the subject of the other older guys watching him rocket up hills with happy alacrity.
At one point during the ride I came across a knot of riders on the side of the road. Someone had had a flat which another rider was fixing. I stopped a bit away from the group to take a shot with the mountains in the distance, and to take a drink. Several more riders coming up decided to stop for a moment as well and the spot started to get a bit crowded. I took off at that point, enjoying the day, the roads, the course, and the fact that my Vado was performing in silent perfection.
By the time I was back on the 10 mile road heading to the ride site my knees were telling me they'd had enough. My battery was at about 23%, so I threw the bike into turbo and cruised the final uphill in comfort. I arrived back at the car with 6% battery remaining. Not bad. Not bad at all.
I'd given my hubby my lunch ticket and found him relaxing in his lawn chair next to the car, chowing down a pulled pork sandwich, coleslaw, potato salad and a fruit cup as I pulled up. He was in heaven. The rider parked one vehicle over from us arrived a few minutes after me. An older gentleman who looked completely beat. I asked how he liked the ride, and he said in an utterly exhausted voice, it "about killed" him. All the hills, he said. Must have been those hills I didn't notice because the Vado was having too much fun zipping up them in turbo. I asked if he had a long way to travel to go home. "No. I live locally", he said. I laughed and said he could have just ridden home rather than expend the precious gas to drive to the ride. "No way!" he exclaimed. "I would be dead, then!"
We talked about the gas situation as we loaded our respective bikes and he said that almost every gas station in Madison County was out of gas. I had noticed the same on our 80 mile trip there. I left to go get my ride t-shirt, a second lunch for hubby which delighted him no end, and then, with the Vado firmly stored onto the bike carrier, said goodbye to our parking lot neighbor and headed the one and a half hours for home. (We did find one, only one, gas station on the way home that actually had gas. Crowded but without the long lines. Pulled in, topped off the 60mpg Prius with 3 gallons at a pre-jump price, and continued to home.)
10/10 would ride this event again on the Vado. It was beyond fun, all the riders were friendly, the volunteers were terrific, the course was just challenging enough, and the scenery about the most beautiful I've ever seen.
Now that I have just installed a hitch on my electric car, I can drive to next year's event with my electric bike on my electric car. A win-win.
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