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The Terrain
The route was almost never dead flat. However, the first (and last!)
80 miles of BAM contain the biggest hills, not long but steep enough
to be some work, one right after another. At mile 8.3 is the infamous
plunge down Wild Horse Creek Road, with a blind curve at the end. After
a breather came the first series of half-mile climbs. The advance info
hadn't suggested any gear setup, so I was distressed to see that by
mile 15 of a 565-mile ride, I was already in my lowest gear (42x24).
This seemed to be a harbinger for worse times ahead. :-)
After these "intro" hills, the route took to the ridges, adding miles but
avoiding the old BAM route, busy MO hwy 100. This was reminiscent of PBP,
which has many miles atop ridges, looking down on hedged fields.
To rejoin hwy 100 we had the second series of hills, numbered 1 to 7.
The steepest was the 7th, with "THE WALL" thoughtfully painted at
the base of the steepest part of the climb. The 42x24 held out, but
the sun bore itself into the back of my neck - that was the prevalent
sensation. Needless to say, these hills spread the ridership out
very early in the ride.
At mile 82, we left "The Wall," crossed the Missouri, had ten miles of
flats along the river, then more strong rolling hills, to Fulton. From
Fulton more rollers, as the road went straight west over transverse
ridges (up-down-up-down-up-down...).
After crossing the Missouri again at Glasgow the terrain and
landscape changed from wooded, hilly, and agricultural to open, rolling,
and agri/prairie landscape. The maps-eye view shows the roads as typical
Midwest grid-pattern (due east-west with 90� angle hiccups every dozen
miles or so). The riding was a little more varied than that, but still
quite open. Toward the Kansas end, we got more hills, but the roads
stayed relentless straight (up-down-up-down-up-down...).
The reverse was entirely similar. The two series of sharp hills in
the last 80 miles had occasioned some curiosity and foreboding when
we'd gone west on them Saturday. Were they steeper eastbound? Would
they *seem* steeper with 490 miles in your legs?? They were in fact
quite doable - about the same steepness. Except of course we had to
go *up* the big hill on Wild Horse Creek Road.
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The Ride
It was mild and hazy at the ride start. I took it very conservatively,
not knowing what lay ahead, or the other riders' competencies. The
first series of "killer hills" only intensified an air of intro-
spection. I talked with BAM and UMCA legends such as Bob Harting and
Pirate Bob Friend, and soon caught a familiar face, someone with whom
I'd ridden only six weeks before, on the Santa Ana River bikepath.
This was Debbie Turner, who won women's second place in RAAM'91. We
rode on together for much of the day.
Debbie T. is amazingly steady, starting out none too fast, but showing
no degradation any after 12, 24, 36, etc., hours. She is also very
efficient, very few stops, and very brief ones. These are both
essential RAAM qualities. Her one-man crew leapfrogged in her long cab
diesel Ford pickup. Eventually he offered me water, but for a long
time I would just replenish liquid and calories quickly at the
checkpoints, then catch back up to Debbie.
About mile 140, we encountered RAAM veteran Jim Burnett from Tennessee,
whom I'd gotten to know pretty well at the Bamberg SC brevets in 1991.
He was a bit dazed, probably from overheating, and gradually improved
as he rode with us - a big guy, he can use raw momentum and muscle to
carry him up hills, and just plain avoirdupois to push him downhill,
while other people are spinning wildly to keep up.
Throughout the middle of the day it was fairly hot and sunny, 90� or
so, and we had not pushed much. With evening, we escaped the big
rollers and sped faster on the flatland.
By then my lighting had been fixed. I'd come with a Cateye halogen
headlamp and a Union. The Union's bracket had snapped in two from
vibration at mile 50. Debbie's crewperson cleverly managed to seat it
and aim it straight, using only duct tape, at about 7pm at a checkpoint,
which was a relief. (I still marvel at how much trouble these Union
setups have been over the years, since BMB'88. They're German - they
should be sturdy and troublefree, right?)
With the pickup behind us blaring C&W ("both kinds of music") we tooled
along over the open, rolling terrain of highway 124. Coming into the
Marshall checkpoint, Jim wasn't feeling well, and Debbie had left
before I decided to go on myself. I thought I might catch her, then
made about a 4-minute wrong turn leaving Marshall, so I shrugged and
headed on, onto the even wider and more open, smooth stretch of highway
20. This section was new, seamless, textured cement, a dream to ride
on. Another PSV came up behind, and said to hop on, so I did.
All this time we had been enjoying the lightning display coming, it
looked, from the Kansas border. With a tailwind, we couldn't hear any
thunder. Suddenly a cold blast of air signalled the inevitable: a hefty
thunderstorm. I rode further as the PSV and its rider pulled off. Then
a BAM official vehicle came by advising all lone riders to find shelter
with PSV's (severe thunderstorm warning had been issued). So I
descended the rise just as the big rain hit, dove into the minivan, and
ended up occupying an incredibly small volume between the front seat,
an ice chest, bikes, and wheels, for about 3 hours (during which,
amazingly, I slept, while a chorus of aches rose from my knees).
Five minutes after I'd climbed in, Debbie & crew came by - they had
been behind me all this time, for reasons yet unknown - and despite her
taunts (she, encased in a Gore-Tex rainsuit, my Gore-Tex jacket safe
and dry back at the Marshall checkpoint) I stayed put, and she went on.
(From checkpoint logs, I gather she was probably off the bike one hour
during this rain, which isn't bad at all.)
At 3am we hit the road in moderate rain; our chills left us after 3
miles; and we pulled into the next checkpoint, Higginsville, at 4am.
The rider and PSV went on (he was doing the Halftour); I stayed to eat
(behind in nutrition), reapply posterior lubricants, etc., for about an
hour, during which I didn't sit down once, but paced quietly around the
4-H hall they were using. I certainly didn't dare sleep, not in wet
clothing. Deb Haas was also there, just waking groggily from a nap.
(She later says she had been ill from something.) She was 60 miles
ahead of me, though, being eastbound.
Among other sights, I mused over a white Kestrel with no rear
brakepads. Talk about weight-shaving obsessiveness! [Turns out this
was Scott Sturtz's bike - he'd broken a spoke, and the wheel was
wobbling so much he'd removed the brakepads - later the wheel broke.]
At 5:26am I headed out - Jim Burnett had said this stretch, 30 miles to
the turn-around checkpoint - was curvier and harder to follow, but it
really wasn't bad. About 6am I heard C&W music coming over the next
ridge, and waved to Debbie T. as she passed. At 7:30am I reached Oak
Grove, turned around, and enjoyed the new SW tailwind, occupying these
miles by counting the riders still westbound (I counted 40, but many
were probably half-BAM riders).
Back at Marshall at noon, I dove into my drop bag, new shorts, new
sunscreen, new supply of liquid nutrition, and spent approximately 2�
minutes devouring a full helping of macaroni and cheese. It was now
mild and sunny.
All this time another rider had been leapfrogging me. He'd been 20
minutes behind at Oak Grove; coming in while I was leaving at
Higginsville, and leaving before I did at Marshall. So this was a
challenge - a minor one - but at this point I was in the vast space
between The Leaders and The Bunch, an area where single riders were
spaced 1-2 hours apart, so any divertissement helped. The next
checkpoint, despite hills, I saw the mystery rider leave as I came in.
(That was it; I think he spent a long sleep time in Fulton, in a motel,
rather than braving the line-of-frats across from the checkpoint.)
By now, the ride had changed from social to highly solitary.
Fortunately the weather was great and the scenery pleasant. I took
photos. I aimed for Fulton by dusk, and made it at a good pace. The
previous 60 miles I'd debated whether to stay there, then heading out after
midnight, or ride on to Loutre Market, sleep out on the open (there was
one cot available) and then face The Big Hills (starting with The Wall)
3 miles later. Hmmm... I stayed in Fulton.
In fact, I enjoyed 4 hours of sleep, a shower, and grub. The college
gymnasium where riders slept shut out the partying of the half-dozen
frats shoulder to shoulder across the road, offering, every 300 yards,
a different variety of Big DeciBel Hard Rock.
2:32pm and I was off into the starry night, very calm, no traffic, over
windy, hilly roads. At the top of one ridge, in luminous green the
halogen lamps caught a sign saying "REFORM" staring at me. It was
definitely a moment full of atmosphere. We had, of course, passed
Reform, Missouri, on the way out, but it still made an impression.
At Loutre Market, the horizon began to lighten, as per calculations.
Fog was also building in the Missouri valley. The checkpoint official
told how Debbie T. had overtaken Debbie H. there the evening before (by
now the latter had won, but his opinion was that she wouldn't).
The Big Hills were quite bearable, after this 40-mile warmup, but it
was hard to make any real speed on this section. Again, a cheery
morning, again alone, save for the occasional BAM official. I
encountered some fast, sweaty looking BAM-century riders on the second
set of Killer Hills, and, surmounting the last one on Wild Horse Creek
Road, zoomed in on the high flats.
Ok, so 54:20 is not a breakneck pace for BAM, but it was a good workout
and a fun time. Worth doing again.
-john
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