Narrative by rider Tim Woudenberg

You never know how a ride will end. All the training, mapping, planning and equipment lists help you visualize it. But even for the seasoned crew and team, there are things that take you by surprise. Vicki went through a great deal of research and negotiation to line this thing up. We would be the first to do a northern CA state crossing under UMCA rules. All we had to do was finish and we would be record holders! "Just Finish" was my highest priority.

Crossing the Sierra Nevada Mountains in November conjures images of surprise snow storms and potential road closures. We thought of that. We carried snow chains for the follow vehicle and one of the bikes had studded snow tires (no kidding). We carried multiple spare tubes, tires, wheels, chains, and two spare tires for the follow vehicle. All the standard stuff of course. We even had back up yellow blinking lights for the vehicle.

I have a history of stomach problems and so we had my favorite remedy, instant hot chicken noodle soup; complete with means for heating water and a backup means for heating water.

Out near Reno, NV where 395 crosses the state line, we set up to start our journey. First thing to fail was the PA. Blown fuse, no spare. Oh well, no matter. It was only a back up to the radios we used for communication between rider and follow vehicle. High spirits and lots of smiley pictures and off we go. At 6:52 am, Vicki takes the first pull. We planned to swap every hour, or less if needed. It was cold but we were dressed for it.

During my first pull, I notice it is raining lightly. Every cyclist knows when it rains, you get wet. You get to choose whether you want to go without a water proof jacket and get soaked with rain, or with a jacket and get soaked with your own sweat. I chose the former. I could always put on a jacket later if I got cold.

Vicki is already climbing Yuba Pass on her second pull. Though she is new to the endurance scene, she is undaunted by it and is quite enthusiastic about taking her pulls. We are getting steadily wetter and the temperature is dropping slightly as we climb.

Jim Kern, our crew chief, arranges that I get on the spare bike with the studded snow tires as we get close to the top. This is all for fun of course. Though there are some signs of snow up high on the mountain, the road is not slippery. I notice the difference in efficiency and am immediately begging for my regular bike back. The crew readily swaps it out and I take off up and over the crest. As I pick up speed in the descent, the crew asks over the radio if I want my jacket for the long descent. I wave it off.

Hours later in the central valley, we are keeping a good pace (>17 mph overall average). We are ahead of schedule, which entirely offsets the fact that both Vicki and I are soaked to the skin and there is no sign of the rain letting up. The funny part is that when you're out on the bike, you're warmed up and feeling good. The uncomfortable part is when you're in the van cooling down. The toughest part was standing in the rain waiting for the swap.

We got to use the chicken noodle soup, but mostly to keep warm. Somehow we brought way too much of the stuff and Lee was beginning to tease us about the over abundance.

In the rain it seemed to get dark earlier. It was 4 pm and the skies were getting very dark. I rode with my lights on to be in compliance with the law, even though all the light I needed came from the headlights of my follow vehicle. After dark, UMCA rules require the follow vehicle be right behind me at all times. The vehicle has lots of flashing lights and reflective slow moving vehicle signs. I feel very safe here, even in a high speed descent.

As we approach the coast, there are some hills to climb. I figure it will be a long, hilly, wet night, but I am used to this. The surprising thing is that although Vicki is not used to this, she is still up for the challenge.

We climb the steep quarter mile hills at 7 mph. On this road, the occasional car will see us well in advance. The follow vehicle and bike stay as far to the right as possible so that cars can easily see around us and pass safely. This routine is nothing new to this crew. Every one is a RAAM crew veteran here; cream of the crop.

There at the top of the hill, out of nowhere, it came. That unexpected ride ending event. We hadn't planned for this one. In all the combined experience of the crew, none of us have ever faced this. The California Highway Patrol officer stood next to his patrol car.

I said, "Good evening officer," as I rolled to a stop there. He didn't want to talk with me; he wanted to speak with the follow vehicle. I stood there quietly out of earshot, expecting to restart as soon as the cop had satisfied his curiosity. It was taking a while. I was starting to cool down and was anticipating a long, chilly downhill ride. Finally, Anthony walked over and gave me the news. The cop would not let us continue. He said the bike is fine but the follow vehicle was impeding traffic. It was not safe.

I was quite upset over this but was doing my best to control myself. The crew was civil and negotiating in fine form but not getting anywhere. Lee Mitchell knew that if the cop says you can't go, that means you can't go. UMCA rules require you to obey the cop.

Jim sensed my mental state and defused it before I blew up. He said simply, "Tim, come in here, sit down. It's not over." At that point I knew Jim had a plan and that I had better not screw it up by losing my cool.

The next part of the story is all about how an experienced crew deals with new situations. I was most impressed. Lee marked the time and the spot. We found the nearest hotel and got some rooms. Lee called the UMCA Records Chair, explained the situation, and got him to approve that Lee be in service for more than 24 hours, given that he gets an 8 hour sleep break. The plan was to restart the attempt 12 hours later at sunrise. At that point, the bike can roll without a follow vehicle. The cop would have no case. Unfortunately, there was no way to erase the 12 hours from the clock. In effect, we would set a very easy record to break.

The next morning we started fresh. The rain had stopped. It was going to be a good day. The dead car battery in the follow vehicle was not a problem for us. We carried a spare battery.

It was a great day to be riding. The day went fast as we cruised around Clear Lake, up over Hopland Grade to Hopland, and over Mountain House to Boonville. The last bit of road to the coast is not one any of us had ever ridden. We found Mountain View Road is a well maintained low trafficked route to Point Arena. On the way up the hill there were two ferocious dogs protecting their turf, but it was more comical than anything else. They were about the size of dachshunds and could only reach up high enough to bite my shoes. I did my best to squirt them with my water bottle. They gave up quickly after that. Vicki took care of most of that hill, still motivated, still in fine form. The ride down was twisty and steep with a 16% grade leading into a 25 mph corner. Interesting that the crew chief asked me to check my brakes before descending. How did he know?

Once down at sea level, Vicki and I rode the final six miles together to the Point Arena Lighthouse. It was great to be finished. It would have been lots of fun to hang out there as we had planned; however, in the interest of seeing us finish, everyone had stretched their free time to the limit and had to quickly scatter to get back to their families and normal lives. It was totally cool that our team willingly gave up a lot more of their free time than they had originally planned, without giving it a second thought.