Saturday, October 15, 4:30 a.m. -
Intersection of Molynes Road and Washington Boulevard and it is raining cats and dogs from the formation of Hurricane Wilma just south of the Island.
Intersection of Molynes Road and Washington Boulevard and it is raining cats and dogs from the formation of Hurricane Wilma just south of the Island.
We are just pulling up to the gas station at the ride start - the plan was to leave out by four. Apparently some crazy motorist decided to test his wet high speed braking right in front of us, totaling his car and demolishing a light pole. I was told to go ahead by ‘Peter F1000 I left the roadie cyclists behind avoiding the glass scattered out at the intersection.
They caught me up by White Marl and I became quickly familiar with road cycling etiquette (by now you must realize I am riding a Mountain bike!). Frequent shouts of "hole!" with the pointing of the finger soon became a mere indication that I should release the poploc for my suspension.
Then at Jose Marti round about, under the cover of darkness a trench cut across the pavement took out one of them. Once again ‘Peter F1000 urged me to go on as the rest of the pack stayed behind to help with changing the tube.
Somewhere before Clarendon Park, while crossing one of those lines cut across the road to facilitate the "running of a water pipe, the bike saw it fit to turn me into a asphalt auger. Many a thanks to the folks at Giro helmets.
All was rather uneventful till I passed the "round about by Williamsfield and headed up the winding road where many irate motorists shouted obscenities, "come outta di p**** claat road and then the climbing pains awaited me. Apparently a rumor had it that instead of going up tru Royal Flats, I headed straight up the Winston Jones Hwy and around Mandeville. I assure all and sundry that my kohonas are not that big and my ambitions to fame follow suite. Mind you by this time next year Peter F1000, Leaford and I will probably have "taken on Blue Mountain Peak.
After climbing past Mandeville and seeing what awaited me at the descend of Spur tree hill, I decided not to put my fate in my pedals as was apparently done by many a roadie who "pelted down the hill, one even confessed that he had no idea how he got to the bottom only that he just "cranked it". Rather after seeing the fog and all the drivers that apparently had x-ray vision, as though the former was not a deterrent to reckless driving. I decided to put my fate in my brakes and signaled to my "support vehicle to stick close behind me. Many a prayer was muttered.
After Spur tree the rest of the way was a like a typical ride out by the Airport traing grounds (Yah right!). I hope to see more mountain bikers next year.
Photographs by Acheabea Ferguson
They caught me up by White Marl and I became quickly familiar with road cycling etiquette (by now you must realize I am riding a Mountain bike!). Frequent shouts of "hole!" with the pointing of the finger soon became a mere indication that I should release the poploc for my suspension.
Then at Jose Marti round about, under the cover of darkness a trench cut across the pavement took out one of them. Once again ‘Peter F1000 urged me to go on as the rest of the pack stayed behind to help with changing the tube.
Somewhere before Clarendon Park, while crossing one of those lines cut across the road to facilitate the "running of a water pipe, the bike saw it fit to turn me into a asphalt auger. Many a thanks to the folks at Giro helmets.
All was rather uneventful till I passed the "round about by Williamsfield and headed up the winding road where many irate motorists shouted obscenities, "come outta di p**** claat road and then the climbing pains awaited me. Apparently a rumor had it that instead of going up tru Royal Flats, I headed straight up the Winston Jones Hwy and around Mandeville. I assure all and sundry that my kohonas are not that big and my ambitions to fame follow suite. Mind you by this time next year Peter F1000, Leaford and I will probably have "taken on Blue Mountain Peak.
After climbing past Mandeville and seeing what awaited me at the descend of Spur tree hill, I decided not to put my fate in my pedals as was apparently done by many a roadie who "pelted down the hill, one even confessed that he had no idea how he got to the bottom only that he just "cranked it". Rather after seeing the fog and all the drivers that apparently had x-ray vision, as though the former was not a deterrent to reckless driving. I decided to put my fate in my brakes and signaled to my "support vehicle to stick close behind me. Many a prayer was muttered.
After Spur tree the rest of the way was a like a typical ride out by the Airport traing grounds (Yah right!). I hope to see more mountain bikers next year.
Photographs by Acheabea Ferguson
