Andrew, Ken and I went out to Codorus, camped and rode 90% of Bob’s Olde Road metric. Here’s another ‘mostly pictures’ post…
We rode out of camp around 9:30 and got about 5 miles in before the drizzle turned to a steady rain. Our day was scheduled as 1 long ride rather than a shorter route with a break in the middle. Since we started in Codorus, the usual lunch stop was at mile 10 or so for us. We skipped it and kept going. Gravel, Rain, Hills, Rain, more gravel, more hills. The longer we went the more of each we got.
We had 1 moment of truth after we survived a few heavy, steady rains when we got to the crossover point. 10 or 15 miles back to camp or 25 miles to do the full route. We decided to plug on under the optimistic assumption that it would get better. False. The rains got heavier and heavier. It went from rainy to stupid rainy stopping squarely in “laughably crazytown”.
Sadly, the deepest of the weather insanity will go undocumented. My camera isn’t water/gravelproof and is exhibiting odd behaviors from even the light rains I exposed it to.
By about mile 40 we were all ready to be done. I had cut the route short by a few miles to keep us within the allotted riding time. At mile 44 we went into unknown territory and were promptly rewarded with one of the steepest and worst roads of the day. The pavement looked like they took some babyhead-sized asphalt chunks left over from the last repaving of 95 and dumped them all over the road. It was very close to mountain biking and I felt really good for ‘clearing’ it without putting a foot down. After that we were back to Rte. 30 and the remaining 3 miles were tame by comparison.
Back at camp, good fortune finally came our way and it dried up in time for dinner. The hot shower and hanging out with the rest of our friends in front of the campfire never felt better.
Cleaning up the next day, I’ve disassembled everything and the water made its way everywhere. Inside the bags, lights, cameras, patch kit… Everywhere. Even after a ride through the washer I still found gravel in my jersey pockets. NO REGRETS. All I can say is rain or shine, if you miss out on the Olde Roads Metric, you and your fat tires have nobody to blame but yourselves.
51.7mi | 4100′ | Here’s the rest of the photos!
Bonus Story: We set up camp quickly before leaving. In a very uncharacteristically laid back manner I let Ken take care of it for the most part since it was his. On returning, Andrew was looking over our site and says “Hey guys, did you notice there’s a ton of water in your tent?” Ken left the flaps down for the entire 7 hour monsoon and immediately says “Hey Dave, why didn’tya put up the windows?” Classic Ken. While I was getting a shower he dumped the tent sideways to pour out the first 90 gallons. Ken was also good enough to get a photo of me swabbing the floor with a pack towel to be sure that we never forget about this. I managed to get the entire thing dry aside from the 4-square foot patch where my feet were resting all night.