Team Lost Horizons' 2008 Fleche Report

By: “Captain” Dion Dyer

It was a dark and stormy night ... Opps! That was seven months ago!

 This time our rallying cry was, "We're lost!" And we actually were, more than once.

 Even planning this fleche was quite an adventure. Conceptually, it started out being very simple -- a straight forward, easy dash down the coast from Santa Barbara to Oceanside, with a pleasant loop into the Ojai Valley to get the kilometers up to 360. Then came the dreaded interpretation (reinterpretation?) of the out and back rule, limiting two-way segments to no more than four or five miles. Uh, Uh -- a double body blow! There is only one road for the first seven miles from Ventura to Ojai. What to do?

My buddy Ed Kristensen had been lobbying for the Lake Casitas route to Ojai -- like on the Grand Tour's Highland Double route from Ojai to Carpenteria, but the other way around. I hadn't ridden that route for over 40 years and had never done it in that direction, but remembered that it had some climbing. ("I hadn't ridden it for many years," became my personal mantra for the fleche after all the pain I put our team though.)

So I got out the mapping software, and looked at elevations and distances. Let's see, 1,100 feet in about 5 miles; that's about 2% on average -- piece of cake! But, opps! -- I forgot about the double summit, particularly West Casitas Pass and the valley in between that we had to go into and then climb out of. Sorry guys! It ended up being a lot of 7 to 8 percent for 11 miles, with a little bit of 11 and 12 percent thrown in to spice things up. And it was supposed to be an easy route!

Also, the shortcut over Casitas Pass, plus some shortest route measurements, required us to find another 13 or so miles elsewhere. Thus, instead of going south from Santa Barbara, we first turned northwest for 10 miles to a control on the far side of Goleta. It was an excellent choice -- the first 40 minutes of our ride mostly followed Catherdral Oaks Rd. past green meadows, spring flowers and Live Oak woodlands that have been only moderately affected by development. If only all of California was still that way.

But I get ahead of myself -- which I just wish I could accomplish on the road more often.

On Friday, March 28, Team Lost Horizons arrived from four corners of Southern California by every means imaginable -- San Diego's AMTRAK Surfliner bringing yours truly, who managed to snag one of the few bike hooks; Ian Prowell managed to board with bike in Solana Beach at the last minute, at risk of having to "jump the freight" hobo-style. (We heard that a member of another team, who shall remain nameless except to say that her first name is Isabelle, had a similar experience at the Oceanside Depot.) Steve Barnes rode 155 miles from Anaheim by bike carrying a touring load -- he didn't yet know about Casitas Pass, but at least decided against riding his fixie. Ed Kristensen -- we're not sure how he got there -- showed up for our dinner meeting on Friday night, only to report that he'd gotten lost trying to drive the first portion of our fleche route. Premonitions of things to come?

Our brilliant strategy and riding plan was impressed upon everyone's minds at dinner at Denny's and, to be doubly sure, given the caliber of minds that we were dealing with, again the next morning over breakfast at Denny's. With that, we went to get our receipts from the starting control, only to have Dion (yours truly) announce that he had a cut in his rear tire but he couldn't remember whether it was an old one in a tire that he had booted and then forgotten to replace, or maybe a brand new cut. Thus, ensued a new strategy session and decision -- upon heading back into Santa Barbara from Goleta, Dion was to time-trial ahead, stop at the Depot bike shop for a spare tire, and then hammer to catch the peloton.

Funny how things never go according to plans. Maybe it was Dion's failure to find the right turn from Olive Hill Road onto North Jamison -- no plainly obvious sign was apparent. Or maybe it was his failure in preparing the cue sheet to call out the right turn onto Ortega Hill Road; instead he referred to it as a simple name change. Or, maybe it was Dion's choice to take the heretofore unknown bike path up Ortega Hill in his effort to catch up. Regardless, it guaranteed that Team Lost Horizons lived up to its name by utilizing all three avenues at that intersection. Sorry guys, for the extra two miles you had to ride!

In the meantime, Dion was doing time and distance calculations in his head. "Hmmm, 10 minutes stopping for the spare tire translates into 2 to 3 miles, meaning 1 to 2 hours to catch, or maybe more if I don't get a move on. That’s longer than I thought. But they're still ahead of me!" Steve, being the frustrated scientist that he is, ignored the calculations and took the direct approach, pulling out his cell phone. "Where the heck are you?"

"Hmmm, south of Carpenteria, just starting up Casitas grade. Where are you?"

"We're at the 7-11 on Via Real, north of Carpenteria."

What a difference a hour makes -- from 2 miles back to 3 miles ahead! So we decided that I would just mosy on my way, giving them the opportunity to catch up. It also meant that I would be King of the Mountain!

Ian pointed out that the col at East Casitas Pass (the one that I had previously forgotten about) was a mountain points stage on the Tour of California a year or two ago. Near the top, painted on the road was, "Go Levi," "Go Cipo," "Hincapie," etc., etc. I looked in vain for my name, but alas ... As it was, Ian was truly the mountain king, followed by Ed and then Steve. But only Steve raised his arms in victory, probably to celebrate getting all that touring gear over the top. Pictures were taken even though it was not a photo finish.

Given the 2% planned vs. the 8% reality, we were now two hours behind schedule. There went one of our brilliantly planned rest stops for Saturday night. So we hurried on our way to the Ojai control. It was difficult, however, because the scenery was so luscious. Going up, we could look around; coming down, the marvelously green vistas, thanks to winter rains, over the meadows and hills surrounding the lake, threatened to become a dangerous distraction. But it was well worth it.

We then ventured into Ojai proper. A very pleasant town with a resort feel to it. Coming into town from the west, there was a park with a Spanish-style arcade covered in Wisteria, and a multitude of long purple blooms hanging down from the trellis-work. If my wife reads this, she'll kill me for not taking a picture -- it wasn't that I didn't think about it, it just that we were behind schedule.

Valero Mini-mart didn't have a public bathroom, so what was intended to be a quick stop required a second stop at the tennis courts' facility on the way out of town. Then it was through the wooded valley on Creek Road.

The 1930's classic film, "Lost Horizons" of Shangri-La fame was filmed around here. I kept looking around for movie sets, jungle animals, or King Kong, or better yet, scantilly-clad, beautiful native girls, but found none. Only few birds in the trees and a fair number of squirrels busily dodging whirling bicycle wheels.

Going down the valley to Ventura, the wind seemed to be wrong -- first, it was too strong, and second, it was from the wrong direction, sort of southwest. Our plan called for winds more to the west and northwest, as is usual this time of year. But sometimes you just get no respect. Fortunately, it turned out to be more abeam than forward, but the tailwind we had wanted did not arrive until Point Magu.

Quickly through Ventura. Then on our way to Oxnard; the wind is still wrong so I pulled in behind Ed, who never seems to mind my wheel-sucking, and again marveled at the incredibly consistent cadence he seems to maintain all day long. Courtesy of Chris Carmichael's online coaching program before he became famous and expensive, so Ed tells me. Again I wonder why I never find such deals.

I need to point out that Ian also did more than his fair share of pulling. He was often also off the front scouting the way. Sometimes I would begin to wonder if I needed something like a dog whistle to call him back. Never a problem though. He would just pull up and wait with pertinent information or questions about our course and progress, and then lead out again.

During a long ride, late most afternoons I often become fixated on a coke and hamburger. So I roll forward and broach the subject of an early dinner. Mind you this is not a scheduled stop; but we're two hours behind schedule and will not make our dinner stop before it closes. Stopping also means that we'll lose much of another planned two hour rest stop that night, but my stomach was now in control.

I was also out-voted. Oxnard has Subway franchisees, and so my stomach consented to turkey and cheese with light mayo and lots of veggies on wheat. And my wife and doctor thank you guys.

From there it was on to Point Magu and Malibu with the sun setting over Team Lost Horizons. We stopped and took more pictures to record the poetry of it for all posterity.

Why did we make another unscheduled stop in Malibu? For whatever reason it was, Shell Oil provided a pit stop for us to refuel, etc., before we pushed on to our next control at a Chevron Mini-mart in Redondo Beach, thus proving how transitory loyalty can be. Traffic on the coast highway from Malibu to Santa Monica can be exciting at times, but it was surprising mild when we passed through on Saturday evening.

In contrast, the bars and restaurants in El Porto, Manhattan Beach and Hermosa Beach were hopping as usual. Same as when I lived there in the 1960s. We rolled by within a block of the famed Lighthouse nightclub, but we didn't take the opportunity to check out the jazz or even whether the Lighthouse is still there. In fact, it didn't even come to mind at the time.

The wind had turned against us again, so it was a relief to get to the Redondo Beach control and turn away from the waves and wind-whipped coast. It was also now raining so that when Denny's yellow logo appeared before our eyes in Harbor City, we stopped for a second dinner! One result, somewhat ironically now that I've put on a few extra pounds, is that this is the first brevet that I have finished without losing weight. While eating and wishfully waiting for the rain gods to go away, we noticed other cyclists rolling by -- the fleche team that started in Lompoc with Clyde Butt in the lead. For a moment, it looked like they were going to stop but then they continued on their rainy way. In the morning, they passed by again while we were resting and breakfasting at Carl's Jr. in south San Clemente. I can't help but wonder if it had something to do with our appearance or personal hygene. For that matter, in spite of all the teams on the same coastal highway, we didn't meet up with any other teams. They all must have known about us!

From Denny's, it was on to Newport Beach and l'pave of Superior Avenue, a road that definitely needed resurfacing when I was last there several months ago. So just for us, they ground down the surface and held back the new asphalt to give us the opportunity to experience l'pave (the cobblestones) first hand. Most of us opted for the sidewalk for at least part of the way to our next control. A quick stop and tomato juice for Steve, and we're off to San Clemente with rooster tails coming up from our wheels off of the wet streets -- except for Ian who cheated by bringing a true randonneuring bike with fenders.

Our stop at Carl's Jr. was uneventful since they let me sleep and they tell me that my snoring didn't bring down the building. Because I saw no damage when I awoke, I don't believe any of it. Got our 22 hour receipt and started to mount on trusty steeds. Then I noticed something on my rear tire -- Oh, no! I had completely forgotten about the cut, except it was no longer just a cut but about 1/2 square inch of missing tread, apparently courtesy of l'pave on Superior Ave.

What to do? Wise and educated man that he is, Steve suggested a quick tire change. I looked at the wind, still strongly against us, and figured that we didn't have time to spare. So I decided to lead out and try to build a time reserve. After entering Camp Pendleton,10 minutes or so of friendly competition with a tri-guy helped a bit – he won! – but amazingly the tire continued to hold together. Just before leaving the marine base, I stopped and waited for the rest of the team. They had been moving quickly and arrived only a few minutes later. The finish was almost anti-climatic -- we arrived at Denny's Oceanside a few minutes later at exactly 10:00 a.m. Sunday morning.

Post script: As we pulled in, Tim Sullivan was preparing to ride home to Coronado. I asked him if he could wait a few minutes for me. Not a good idea, as it turned out. Tim is more than accommodating and pleasant to ride with, its just that I had not eaten enough while thinking about the tire and trying to make time across Camp Pendleton before it gave out, and Tim is a very strong rider and needed to stay on schedule to catch the 1:00 p.m. ferry. No problem until leaving Carlsbad, but then I found myself starting to bonk and couldn't even hang onto his rear wheel. Then, as he crested the hill in front of the power plant, I stood up and my rear tire went, psssss!

Changing both casing and tube took way too long, particular since it turns out I was carrying a bad tube. 238 miles on a bad tire! Definitely not a good idea, but the tire didn’t look bad when we started in Santa Barbara and after Ventura our route was relatively flat and our speed moderate, which meant that the risk from a flat or blowout on the rear wheel was slight. If it had been the front tire, I would have changed it before leaving Santa Barbara.

Finally, in Encinitas I got my hamburger and coke at Angelo's. Later, coming down the hill south of UCSD, I looked at the time and wished Tim "bon voyage." The 1:00 p.m. ferry was leaving for Coronado.