Jim Bradbury

I posted more than 250 photos to Flickr, which seems like kind of a lot, so if anyone’s interested this link should get  you to the ones that I think are the most interesting. This  also includes some of my favorite photos that Anurang took. He also took more photos of me (for obvious reasons) than I did.

Note: There are 15 "pages" of photos. This link takes you to the last page so that you can browse backwards and therefore see things in roughly chronological order.

For those not familiar with Flickr, clicking on a photo will take you to a larger version as well as show you any comments that I or others have made about it.  I am hoping to find time soon to start a Flickr PAC Tour Route 66 Group so that others can add their favorite photos from the trip.

Jim

Just a quick update:

NO RAIN!

Sunshine at the Navy Pier, even.

A fabulous breakfast at Lou Mitchell’s restaurant in downtown Chicago. Apple and cheese omelette: Who’d have guessed such a thing existed?

Now waiting at the airport to fly home….

(OK, the day started out pretty cold, but who cares if it’s cold as long as it doesn’t rain?)

Thanks to all my fellow Route 66 travelers and to PAC Tour for a once-(probably)-in-a-lifetime experience.

Jim

Distance: 101 miles
Climbing: Not that much.

Almost there! I’m on a tight schedule because our final dinner together is in about an hour, and I won’t have much time after that to finish whatever needs finishing.

Overall, today was a big improvement over yesterday. Here’s why:

It was shorter. The route card said 103 miles, so we only got a couple of freebie miles, but I still got in before 4:00, which makes a huge difference.

The wind let up a bit. We still had the same west/northwest wind all day, but it wasn’t nearly as strong. Still, for one long stretch a bunch of us did a rotating paceline to beat the wind and help pass the miles. It’s not like there was a lot of scenery to watch: mostly farm fields, although the little towns we passed were all nice.

The rain held off, mostly. We had a few showers off and on for the first 90 miles. Then it rained miserably for the last 10 into town. That just made getting into a hot shower that much more luxurious.

We were welcomed warmly in a couple of small Route 66 towns. The first one, Pontiac, had a nice little Route 66 museum. The local police met us just outside the town limits (or at least some of us). I was convinced that they were going to give us all tickets for not riding single file. Instead, we got a police escort to the museum by car and bike.

A few miles further up the road, in Odell, we were feted at a beautifully restored Sinclair gas station with hot dogs and homemade baked goodies. Lon had written to these folks months ago to let them know we were coming, but he hadn’t heard back and thought they’d probably forgotten about us. I think he just didn’t get their response because he hasn’t been home for 100 days.

At least two good ice cream stops today. I just had a shake at the Launching Pad Restaurant (home of the Gemini Giant) because I was still really full of homemade baked goods and a hot dog from Odell. Then, ten miles from the hotel, Lon, Franz, Phil and I stopped at a curious shack-like ice cream place in Joliet (don’t remember the name, and I don’t think it was on the route card) for soft-serve ice cream. There were no windows on the building except a small one where someone took your order.

As soon as we left the ice cream place, the skies decided to open in earnest but, so far as I know, everyone made it here in one piece. Tomorrow we have just 32 miles to ride to the end of Route 66 and then 16 miles from there to the hotel where I will take a shower and pack up my bike for the trip home.

Distance: 117 miles
Climbing: I have no idea. Not that much.

For more photos, be sure to check Flickr.

I’m too tired to blog. No, really, can’t I just take a nap instead?

This was supposed to be the longest day (in miles) of our trip, but the route card was incorrect and we ended up short by nine miles. If anyone complains to Lon about this, I will be happy to sign a letter supporting his or her commitment to a caring institution.

I got a pretty decent night’s sleep in anticipation, and I ate a big breakfast. I wasn’t sure what else I could do to prepare for 10 hours of cycling in winter (by Bay Area standards) temperatures, probable rain showers, and a steady west wind. Oh, I also brought my iPod shuffle with me in case I ended up riding alone for hours with nothing to look at but corn seedlings as tall as popsicle sticks.

The first few miles were kind of northeast, and the sky was dry. I listened to my iPod and waited for my feet to get cold before pulling over and putting on my booties. I actually wore a wool hat and wool long-fingered gloves for the entire day today. I stayed pretty warm as long as I was moving.

Jim Meyers and John Welch passed me while I was getting my booties on. I started up again and could see another rider gaining on me pretty soon. This was Lon. I had the good sense to ride on his right-hand side a while, which gave me a break from the wind. We switched sides before we caught up to Jim and John, though. I figured that four people ought to be able to cooperate to beat the wind, so I suggested that we work together. Lon got us all in an echelon-style paceline, which worked well since traffic was light.

That got us to the first rest stop. I ate some food, got more water, and walked over to the gas station (I think it was a gas station; I actually went in the back door) to use the restroom. As I came out, I saw Lon putting on his helmet, so I ran across the parking lot to my bike. Jim was still in the restroom, so Lon and I left the stop by ourselves. John Welch is too much of a nice guy to leave a buddy behind in the restroom.

Riding with Lon, I was working harder than I would have if I were by myself. Sometimes, I would be able to get a draft from him, but I have a sneaking suspicion that he speeds up when he knows you’re drafting him since he figures it’s your responsibility to keep up at that point. If you’re riding side by side, he’ll adjust his speed to match yours.

We rode together to the next rest stop (mile 46), which was near the Cozy Dog Diner. I don’t think Lon was planning to eat there, but he ended up having a bowl of chili (“the worst on the trip”), and a donut. Jim Hlavak (who wasn’t riding today) recommended the donuts, which he said were home made.

I had a cozy dog (a corn dog, as near as I could tell), and the last chocolate donut. It was really good. It was so greasy that after eating it you felt like you’d put Chapstick on your lips. I went and got another one (not chocolate) before I left. The Cozy Dog is an official Route 66 Roadside Attraction, which is a designation that I think is unique to Missouri and Illinois. It was owned by Bob Waldmire’s father, if I have this right, and there’s a lot of Route 66 memorabilia as well as a library. Bob Waldmire is the legendary artist/hippy/dude that Anurang and I saw working on a mural back in Arizona (or was it New Mexico?).

The Cozy Dog is on the southern end of Springfield, and after we passed through the city our direction shifted from due north to a more northeasterly tack, which made life much better. We covered 17 miles in the hour after we stopped at the Cozy Dog.

We didn’t stop again until we got to the town of Lincoln, where the third and final rest stop was set up across the highway from a Bonanza steakhouse. That’s a kind of all-you-can-eat place with lots of kitchsy country décor like samplers and quilts. I had a steak sandwich and a bunch of other stuff. Not great food, but lots of it.

We saw a bunch of other riders at the Bonanza: ahead of us were Lin and E on a tandem, Phil, and Franz. Lynette and a bunch of other riders who’d sagged that far were also there.

I couldn’t believe how cold it still was when we left. I forgot to mention that it had been spitting showers and drizzle off and on since before noon. As I pulled out of the restaurant parking lot, I saw Vicki and Tim Arnold, who had stopped for lunch at the previous town and who had been ahead of us all morning. We all tried to get on the tandem’s wheel, but only Franz and Phil were able to. Lon had to wait for an oncoming car, so he was a little back. I just couldn’t go hard after eating that meal. Even after trying for just a few minutes, I felt like I was going to be sick.

So, I dropped back and let Vicki and Tim chase the tandem (without success, I think, but I’m not sure), and Lon eventually caught up to me. He could easily have left me behind, but slowed down long enough for me to get a handle on my digestion, after which we kept a pretty steady pace for the rest of the afternoon.

We also stopped a few times, believe it or not, to check out some other Roadside Attractions, such as the Bunyon Man and Funk Grove maple sirup (yes, that’s how they spell it).

Oh, I forget to mention that at one point a man in a what appeared to be an unmarked police car rolled down his window as we prepared to make a turn and asked “Which one’s Lon?” The apprehension in Lon’s voice was obvious as he identified himself. You could tell he was worried that one of our riders had done something stupid, and he was about to get grief over it. Turned out the man (a parole officer, I think), was the brother of a cyclist Lon knows and just wanted to meet Lon and shake his hand. “I’m going to be doing what you’re doing in four years when I retire,” he said.

I hope he has better weather.

To be fair, everyone I’ve talked to in Illinois has apologized for the weather.

Anyway, in spite of our stops, we managed to make it to the motel before 5:00. I flopped on the bed and just lay there for a good 30 minutes. I knew though, that if I didn’t write something before dinner, I’d fall asleep before getting it done.

Distance: 72 miles
Climbing: 2,500 feet

Yesterday, I told myself that I needed to stop looking at the weather forecast. After all, there’s nothing I can do about it. I look at the forecast, see bad news, and immediately start worrying.

So, the first thing I did this morning was to check the weather forecast.

Amazingly, the forecast was better than it had been when I went to bed last night: Partly sunny skies in Saint Louis in the morning, followed by showers and cloudy skies in the afternoon.

After yesterday’s drowning, this sounded like perfect picnic weather. And since today was such a short day, who knows, maybe there wouldn’t be any rain at all…

I left the motel with Lon, Susan, and possibly Jim Hlavka. I thought that would be easier than reading the route card and getting lost. We were just about the last ones out of the motel, but we overtook a few people on the eight-mile ride to breakfast. As a bonus, I got to hear Susan’s reminiscences about growing up in Saint Louis and to hear both of them chew out a driver who shouted something nasty at us and then got stuck at a red light.

Breakfast was fun, although we all carefully locked our bikes. Then we rode to the famous Arch, where we stopped for some pictures and gawking.

Next, we tried to get on to the St. Louis Riverfront trail, but the first floodgate was closed, so we ended up taking a somewhat unpleasant street route instead. Franz later told us that a local showed him and some others how to get onto the trail a different way.

Everyone eventually wound up at the famous Chain of Rocks Bridge, which is now open only to bikes and pedestrians. We had it pretty much to ourselves, and the view was wonderful, with downtown Saint Louis sparkling in bright sunshine in the distance and the rapids of the Confluence below us. We said goodbye to Susan Notorangelo before crossing the bridge; she’s staying in Saint Louis for a family wedding.

The next few miles featured some vintage concrete pavement, another bridge over a canal, and at mile 32 a really pretty bike path. I was riding with Franz now. Being from Northern California, I was shocked at how quickly the weather changed, even though I had read the forecast. Before I knew it, we were riding with the partly sunny skies to our right and a giant, menacing black swirl of clouds to our left. The wind was picking up, and it was from the west, which sort of helped us most of the time. We picked up the pace in a (futile) effort to outrun the rain.

All we really got was a shower, but it was enough for both of us to put our rain jackets on. The temperature dropped, too. I don’t think Lon ever expected that we’d be cycling in the mid 50’s in Illinois in May.

The showers let up as we got to the town of Livingstone, where Franz and I decided to stop at a recommended (by the route card) café for the Country Inn Motel. This was a great, cheap lunch; I had fried chicken, bread, mashed potatoes with gravy, green beans, Mr. Pibb, and a giant piece of coconut cream pie for less than $10.

Lon and several other riders rolled in while we were eating. We left with Lon and, almost immediately, the rain showers started again. Back with the jackets. A few more miles and the showers stopped and we had to stop, too, to take off the jackets (at least Lon and I did; Franz seems to have a great tolerance for wearing his rain jacket).

The rain was more of a nuisance than anything else; the wind was more of a factor. This was a strong cross wind when we were heading north and a slight tailwind when we were heading north east. On the rare occasions when we went due east, we really flew. This is the same wind it’s predicted that we’ll have for more than 120 miles tomorrow. The terrain is very flat, so the wind is the big obstacle.

Somewhere, we picked up Reed and Jim H., and Jim led us into Litchfield at a pulse-pounding pace. He’s got more than 20 years on me, but it was all I could do to hold on. Reed, who’s no slouch himself, also just managed to keep up, although he stayed far enough back to make sure that he wasn’t getting a draft. “I finally realized, ‘Hey, he’s not riding tomorrow,’” Reed told me as we both dropped back for the last mile or two into town. Jim’s one of our crew, so he rides only on alternate days. Plus, he later told me that he spotted at least four Eastern bluebirds.

During a fair bit of the final northward stretch toward Litchfield, we were paralleling some abandoned Route 66 pavement on our right. Lon rode across the median to check this out for a while. It looked pretty bumpy, but when he was ready to catch back up to us he just did that fast thing he does and he was suddenly ahead of us. The pavement ended with a guardrail-style barrier, but he somehow navigated between that and a ditch to get right back onto the highway without losing any ground.

We were among the very first in to the motel, so I managed to get some laundry done and reorganize my bag before dinner (at the excellent Ariston Restaurant, which is the most high-falutin’ place we’ve seen since La Posada). It’s a relief to know that I won’t (cross fingers) need to do any more laundry on this trip.

We’ve reached a point where I can actually envisage the remaining days – the end is actually in sight. But first, we need to make it to Bloomington on the longest (mileage) day of our trip.

Distance: 108 miles
Climbing: 5,200 feet

Well, that was a doozie.

We got an early start this morning, with bags loaded at 7:30 and everyone on the road not much later. It wasn’t raining when we left, but it was pretty obvious that rain was in the cards. This was Day 3 of the “three-day rain event,” and it did not disappoint.

My legs actually felt pretty good once they got warmed up on the hill leaving our motel. The first twenty miles of short up and down hills went pretty quickly. I rode by myself today more than any other of this trip – I just wanted to concentrate on getting to the other end of the route card as quickly as possible.

The first rain shower came less than an hour into the ride. I stopped and put on all my rain stuff – and the rain quit. So, I took of my rain jacket but left the pants on.

Most of the day, we were riding frontage roads to I-44, with some really lovely scenery.

At around 45 miles, I stopped at another rest stop and decided to take off my rain pants but left my booties on. As I left, the rain started up again, but it wasn’t heavy enough to get me to put the rain pants back on. By mile 73, I was riding in just shorts, knee warmers, and a long-sleeved jersey. I stopped for a quick lunch at Hardee’s in Pacific, where I had two $1.19 cheeseburgers. “You mean the little bitty ones?” asked the counter lady.

As I left Hardee’s the rain started up again, but it still wasn’t enough to make me put on my rain stuff. I knew, though, that as the cold front moved in the temps could drop.

Since I was riding by myself, I paid very close attention to the directions on the route card. The two things I really didn’t need today were to get lost or to get a flat tire.

At around 90 miles, Lon’s route took us through what the card described as “steep rural roads next 6 miles.” This was where all hell broke loose.

When Lon says something’s steep, you’d better believe it. These were the steepest hills I’d seen since La Cienega Blvd. on the first day. And all of a sudden, I was riding in a real storm. Trees were bending in the wind and water was gushing down the street in sheets. I don’t think I’ve ever ridden in heavier rain. Lon later told me that he, Susan, and some others waited out that part of the storm in a Steak and Shake.

I quickly put all my raingear back on: jacket, pants, booties. It seemed like the strongest wind was actually pushing me up some of the hills. I kept thinking what a pretty ride it would have been under different circumstances. It was dramatic, though.

Once through this section, I got on Route 30 for most of the rest of the way – lots of traffic, which normally wouldn’t bother me too much, but visibility wasn’t great and I was trying very, very hard not to miss any turns.

Somehow, I made it in just a little after 4:00, with an average speed (including stops) of exactly 12 mph.

For dinner, we went to Phil’s Barbecue with a bunch of Susan’s relatives and then to Ted Drewe’s Frozen Custard for dessert.

I’m pooped.

The weather tomorrow still looks bad, but at least it’s only a little over 70 miles.

Distance: 106 miles
Climbing: 4,000 feet

I’m going to try to make this short, because I have got to start getting to bed earlier.

Pavement was dry when I looked out the window this morning, but the NWS radar showed a big orange and red blotch headed our way. Sure enough, it was raining by the time we loaded our bags at 7:30, and for the next few hours, I was riding in an out-and-out thunderstorm.

You know that Jackson Browne song that goes “You love the thunder… you love the rain”?

That’s a stupid song.

Lon, Susan and some other folks left just a bit ahead of me, and when I got to the first rest stop in Conway at mile 26, they were just leaving. I set a personal record on this trip for being in and out of a rest stop – just grabbed some bars and went. It was still raining, but I imagined that it might be letting up just a little bit.

By the time I got to the rest stop in Lebanon, it had stopped raining, although the road was still quite wet. I tried riding with Lon and Franz from this point, but I couldn’t really stick with them on the endless corrugated Missouri rollers and, even if I could, the spray from their rear wheels made it seem like it was still raining. I think they slowed down for me, though, because I did follow them more or less all the way to the third rest stop, where Susan re-joined the group, having gone off in the van between stops two and three to mail off Lon’s defunct Macintosh to a repair center.

Vicki and Tim Arnold were riding with us off and on from this point, as well, and it was this group that had lunch at a nice German deli in Waynesville. By now, the sun was shining brightly, and I had stripped off my rain jacket, rain pants, wool gloves, booties, wool long-sleeved t-shirt, and knee warmers.

Lon, Susan and I all agreed that nice days are that much nicer when they follow a few hours of really horrific weather such as we had this morning. This part of Missouri is really beautiful, too.

After lunch, we got to ride some vintage concrete pavement to and through the “Devil’s Elbow” bridge (the term refers to a bend in the river that loggers hated, apparently) and through the “Big Notch.” I remembered this section from the 2001 Central Pac Tour because I had left my camera in the van on that day for fear of getting it wet. (Ever wonder why Missouri is so green?) This time I got some pictures.

Our next stop was at around 100 miles, in a little town called Newberg. Sodas and ice creams. Then a final big climb before getting to Rolla (with a brief stop at the Wolfman’s Trading Post, which is some kind of weird cross between folk art, a giant yard sale, and an adult video store).

Tomorrow: rain, maybe; climbing, definitely.

Distance: 87 miles
Climbing: 3,100 feet

For more photos, be sure to check Flickr.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that I was not looking forward to today. This “three-day rain event” is really bad timing. And of course, there has been a drought here all spring, so I really can’t begrudge them the rain, but even the local forecasters seem to think it may be too much of a good thing.

Carthage seemed like an interesting place. Did you know that the first major land engagement of the Civil War happened there? There also is a large and imposing gothic county courthouse. Tim Arnold and I got a close-up look at it on our way back from Braum’s ice cream after dinner last night.

I had a big breakfast (two orders of French toast) on the theory that if it did rain it would be that much harder to eat on the bike. It wasn’t raining when I went to breakfast in town, nor when I came back. But by the time we were supposed to load our bags on the trailers, it was starting to shower. I actually was kind of glad, because it meant I didn’t have to wonder whether I should put on my rain pants or not at the start. I hate the rain pants, but I hate stopping to put them on in mid ride even more.

I rode all the way to the first rest stop with Franz and Gerd at a fairly easy pace. Lon had us riding on farm roads insstead of Route 66 because Rt. 96 (which used to be 66) has lots of truck traffic. This part of the ride was absolutely lovely and rural, with lots of farm fields and dogs who would half-heartedly come out to bark at us but not really be into giving serious chase. I chatted quite a bit with Gerd and even asked Franz whether he was experiencing any tiredness on the ride (no, he is not). He really is an excellent cyclist. At dinner tonight, I learned that he and his wife do track stands when they have to stop on their tandem.

I stopped just before the first rest stop to put the hood on my jacket up. The showers seemed to come and go all through these 30 miles, but they seemed to be coming harder. Gerd and Franz rode ahead around a corner. Then, through “operator error,” I rode right past the rest stop at a Baptist church, even though I saw the church and knew that the stop was at a church. I realized my mistake fairly quickly, though, when I got to a long straight stretch and saw no sign of Franz and Gerd.

I doubled back to the church, where Rosemary had parked her SUV under a driveway awning. Minutes after I pulled in, the rain started coming down harder. Lon and Susan’s group pulled in a few minutes later, and the heavens opened up. It was really raining now, and folks were happy to accept the hospitality of the Baptists, who let us use their restrooms and stand in their foyer trying to keep warm. More than one person was eyeing the church’s school bus fleet as well, wondering how many cyclists one of them could hold.

I was just resigning myself to leaving and heading back out into the thunderstorm, when I realized that Lon was showing no sign of wanting to decamp. I took this as a sign that it might be better to wait. Sure enough, when Lon finally did decide to leave, it was while it was still raining, but the worst was over and things gradually improved for the rest of the day. Franz and Gerd had left earlier and spent 20 minutes in what Franz described as “sheer hell.”

Alas, I was a little slow getting out of the church (last-minute bathroom stop), and Lon and Susan’s group had almost a minute head start on me. I half-heartedly started to chase them but quickly realized that it would be a poor use of energy that I might need later. So I rode the next stretch almost completely by myself. This was when the real Missouri “rollers” started: those series of straight, short, steep hills like the back of an asphalt sea monster. As I would start one set of rollers, I’d see the group ahead of me disappearing over the top of the last hill ahead of me.

My cyclometer got all messed up by the rain (waterproof, right…), so I was extra careful to make sure that I got each turn right, and sightings of the group ahead of me were reassuring. Eventually, I realized that I was coming up to another rest stop and assumed (correctly) that I’d be able to join the group ahead of me there if I was a little quicker when Lon put on his helmet.

From that stop we rode through more of the same kind of farmlands and hills, until we crossed over I-44 at mile 67, after which we were heading into Springfield. We rode right through downtown Springfield (this is the only PAC Tour where you actually go through cities like Santa Fe, Albuquerque, Amarillo, Tulsa, and Springfield; usually PAC Tours avoid all cities as much as possible). Before we got out of town, we stopped at a Steak and Shake that Lon believes is the original Steak and Shake from 1932. Lon and I did some malted milkshake research there.

Lots of Route 66 business and references in Springfield.

From lunch, it was only 13 miles to our motel, and the weather was actually nice at this point. I had taken all my rain gear off at mile 50.

Nice modern motel with high-speed wireless Internet access, so maybe I can get caught up with my photos tonight, too. I need to hurry, though, because tomorrow promises to be a challenging day – with more weather and more miles.

Distance: 106 miles
Climbing: 2,200 feet

I like this motel. It has a full-sized public laundromat right on the premises. Give me a clean, non-smoking room with a bathtub, and I’m a happy camper. The only thing it’s missing is wireless Internet, but I can at least dial in with the modem, which was impossible a couple of nights ago.

We road in three states today, but the scenery didn’t change much from yesterday that I could tell. Still lots of agriculture, green fields, horses, trees (including pecan trees), and lots of dogs. The last few days have been rife with dogs. Besides the little guy who joined the peloton for at least a mile in downtown Tulsa yesterday, my favorite was a beautiful border collie who jumped off his front porch as I went by and just ran alongside me in the grass for a few hundred yards. He must have thought I was some kind of exotic sheep. No barking – just a happy run.

We’ve also been seeing some wildlife – as well as a lot of roadkill. The unfortunates seem to be mostly armadillos, but some turtles and possums have also been spotted, including one mother possum whose babies were crawling all over her (I didn’t see that myself; maybe it’s an urban legend).

But I also rode a fair bit with Jim Hlavka and Reed Finfrock, and they’re both good at identifying all the birds that crossed our path (scissortail fly catchers, meadowlarks, killdeers, etc), and Jim and I both saw a woodchuck scampering into the undergrowth. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woodchuck before. I thought it might be a beaver at first. I’m such a city boy.

The weather was overcast for the most part, but no one was complaining after yesterday’s deluge. Unfortunately, the forecast for the next couple of days is not good. Lots of rain. The big question is how much of it will happen while we’re riding. I think it’s a certainty that we’ll get pretty wet, but it’s not supposed to be cold, so that will help somewhat. And tomorrow is a relatively short day (followed by two long ones), and the wind is supposed to shift to the south, which is an improvement in the grand scheme of things.

So, I’m trying to think positively. This is a vacation after all, at least in theory. The truth is, though, that I’m ready to be home sleeping in my own bed. Riding through two to three inches of rain in Missouri is just something I have to get through before I can do that.