The Deerfield Dirt Road Randonee, or D2R2, is a challenging bike ride in western Mass, riding up into Vermont. Last year was my first time riding it, a 100km (65 mi) ride which was more demanding of my abilities and equipment than any other. It was so much fun that I wanted to try a longer version this year. My goal, if all went very well, was to ride the longer, 180km route to the lunch stop shared by the two routes, then switch to the 100km route for the way home, making a medium-sized route of 93 mi.
Training did not go perfectly, of course, and as the ride approached on the calendar, I wrestled with whether to swap my early start time for the later 100km start. All of my friends from last year's ride either stayed with the 100km route or had to skip it altogether, so the longer ride would also be solo. But a pair of dirt road prep rides went better than I'd expected, and I decided to go for it.
My 4am alarm was unnecessary after I naturally woke at 3:15, and this was a lucky stroke because it took longer than I'd planned to get out the door. Drove 4:25-6:20, watching the sun rise and the temperature drop to 50 degrees F. After weeks of heat, I hadn't imagined it could be cold, so I didn't have any extra layers. After registering, I found a pair of bags the OJ cups had come in, and fashioned them into ersatz arm warmers.
"Sea smoke" floated on the river next to the parking area as I started riding at 6:53. The earliest start was 6, but the organizers wanted untimed folks like me to wait until at least 6:30. I hoped to start about then, so was behind schedule already. But I was determined to ride at a natural pace, to avoid burning out early, so I pushed time out of mind and enjoyed the scenery and some conversation with other riders. One of the main draws of this event is the alternating river and hilltop views of the beautiful rural landscape of the Connecticut River watershed.
The first water stop was at mile 21, where I learned I only needed two (XL) bottles and emptied the third. I also learned that I didn't need the helmet light I was wearing, when two of the staff asked whether I rode to the start before dawn. Later in the ride my neck muscles would also tell me I shouldn't have loaded that weight onto my helmet. A rider next to me commented that he'd already had 3 flats, and was out of tubes and into the patch kit. This was just partway through the first quarter of the ride, designated a warm up!
Randonees don't have marked turns, unlike most big road rides, so cue sheets are very important, and a GPS can be quite helpful. We came to a place where the cue sheet said, "CAUTION: wicked downhill next mile - steep, rutted, narrow, stony". This sounded good to me as I've always enjoyed descending, and this ride feels like a nearly constant climb. After a bit of dirt road descending, a fork was marked with one of the few D2R2 signs of the day. I'd have gone left without it, but saw the arrow, hugged the adverse camber and kept the momentum going right. A little levelling was followed by one of the longest, loosest, fastest descents of the whole day. I thought, 'I'm glad the riders have thinned out so I don't need to worry about other riders here!' as I hung on. I saw bike tracks in the dirt, a reassuring sign, but noted that the path was wavy, as if a roadie were skidding the brakes downhill. I again thanked my cyclocross tires for their wonderful grip. The cue sheet and GPS were beyond illegible with the handlebar's vibration. It crossed my mind that it would be nice to check them, but there weren't any real options since that D2R2 sign, so no chance of error until I passed a little road that had forked right. I stopped slowly as I was still on the loose slope, and the GPS read "U turn when possible". Oh no. I struggled back up the hill to the little fork, and the GPS didn't want me to go there either. Oh no. I had to go all the way back to the D2R2 sign, finding I'd misread the direction of the arrow. I'd backtracked 1.7 miles, including the first walking of the day. When I rode, I wobbled a bit for traction - just like the track I'd seen on the way down! This was not the right way to prepare for the big hill coming soon on the cue sheet.
"15% climb next 3/4 mile", read the cue. I'd been bracing for this all morning, and sure enough, it was a dirt road slog. The next cue included "super steep", which I'd pictured describing the descent which would naturally follow a climb. Nope, it was more dirt climbing, and here I did some more short walks.
A little after the next waterstop lay the most fearsome cue, "27% grade", a dirt climb. The Wednesday before, some friends and I practiced on a local gravel trail and succeeded climbing some very short climbs that were steeper than this, so I had confidence that I could ride this at least for a bit. But the reality today was a tall climb, perhaps 200ft, and a surface of loose dry sand and rounded pebbles. Almost as soon as the slope hit, my rear tire slipped right, tipping me left. I was unable to clip out of the pedals while falling over, so I landed on my elbow and started rolling backward, the bike coming over me. To cut through the frustration, I noted that this was the mirror image of a fall I took Wednesday on a steeper climb, and now both elbows were symmetrically scuffed. After walking around 100ft, the slope seemed to drop just a bit, so I tried again and immediately fell the same way, to the right, re-opening Wednesday's scab. The rest of the climb was a walk, during which I promised myself I'd get rid of these pedals. There were bike tire tracks in the sand, though I can't figure out how anyone could ride it. There were also shoe prints and one hoof print, perhaps from a donkey, the proper vehicle for this road.
At a tiny water stop I started fretting about lunch. It was 1pm, and lunch was to close at 2:30, with 12 miles between. My average speed indicated it would take an hour, but the ride had so many surprises so far that I couldn't bank on that. Mechanical troubles seemed to be plaguing the other riders too, and I couldn't be immune. If this were a novel, you might expect the devil to appear about now, and that's just what happened, though it wasn't clear until afterward. A few turns later, I saw a rider ahead of me take a left, then a pair went right. I stopped and checked cue sheet and GPS and decided the left was correct, so I caught up with the pair and said I thought we should go back and go the other way. The guy in front said, 'this is the quick way to lunch'. What a relief to find a way to stop sweating over missing it! And I'd seen that left led to yet another big dirt climb. But I shook myself out of it and turned back, rejoining the route. I hadn't given up the real route yet! And anyway, I didn't want to have that guy be my only guide to lunch. The more I thought about it the less I appreciated his invitation to join his shortcut.
One gravel descent here gave me what I think of as a "pinch kiss". (If there's a real name for this, please let me know.) It's related to the infamous pinch flat, in which the tire is squished hard against the metal rim by a rock or similar bump, cutting through the inner tube and causing a flat which is difficult to adequately patch. Lots of riders got pinch flats on this ride. A pinch kiss is similar but doesn't cut all the way through the tube, so it's more a warning than a problem. It makes a loud, bad sound like a cartoon kiss. Also, I believe a "kiss cut" is an industrial term for cutting partway through something, like cutting the shape of a sticker without cutting its backing paper.
I arrived at lunch at 2, and there was still plenty of good food. Like last year, the stop was at a covered bridge in Vermont, next to a small waterfall. This is a peaceful spot to eat and rest a little before the long ride back.
Navigation for the return was a bit different, except for the cue sheets. Amy had loaded the GPS with a turn-by-turn route for the first half, investing significant effort converting Delorme data for my Garmin unit. While this was great for many turns, in others the GPS indicated turns that it fabricated, probably due to differences in map details between the companies. Garmin didn't recognize an apparent logging track as a road? I can't say I'm too shocked about that. Anyway, I had no such route for the return. Last year's track, just a colored line on the map, should have helped, but it turned out that track was not loaded, so the GPS did little after lunch. On the other hand, I remembered much of it, so didn't need as much help.
At the end of the 100km ride, there was an optional 5mi flat loop called the "corn maze". (This was a mandatory part of the 180k route.) I don't think it was even available last year. I wanted to ride it, and felt pretty good when I reached it, so I stopped for a quick drink and bite of the sandwich I'd been carrying, and went into it. This was just a ride on the tractor path through a corn field, a fun cool-down after the hills. In the quiet, though, I could hear the grinding of the chain and gears loaded with the day's road grit. I finished at 5:40, getting home before 9:30.
It was a great ride, the biggest of my life. At 8:36 moving time for 103mi (2.4mi vertical), it was about 1.5 times the work of a road century. I recommend it! There are other routes available, down to 40mi flat.
