Another century short on pictures, but plenty memorable. Planning for the Saturday century began no earlier than Friday at lunch; I and two other cyclists hashed out a route to ride somewhere new: Blanco, Texas.
Now into May, the heat has been steadily making its return, so we were excited by a cool and overcast morning. We started from our usual coffee-shop meeting stop and pedaled out the usual roads to Wimberley, not working too hard, but giving it some gas on the long flat stretches. Wimberley was only about 20 miles, but would be our first stop -- the next closest would be at mile 50.
Just before we reached our first stop, however, we were awkwardly interrupted by a woman in a Mercedes -- "Help me", she yelled. We turned back towards her, and tried to clarify the situation: car trouble. The woman didn't know where the hood-release lever was, refused to move from the driver seat, and really couldn't articulate what the problem even was. Not being sure how a trio of bicyclists could possibly help, we wished her well and left her to her own devices.
You never know who you'll meet on a bike ride. After the odd exchange, the convenience store was just a few minutes riding away.
After Wimberley, the hills of Hill Country really get going -- not always steep, but always either up or down to some degree. We followed the familiar Mount Sharp road for awhile before turning down Longhorn Trail, a mostly new-to-us route. There were no stop signs, no small communities, and few crossings. Thirty miles went by unnoticed; we reached Blanco and the Deutsch Apple Bakery.
Whoever said, "it's all about the journey not the destination," wasn't entirely correct. The bakery proved to be a worthy destination (at least as worthy as the journey); I think my single slice of cake weighed a pound or more! (Hummingbird Cake: pineapple and banana, with pecans!) It was still overcast as we took our rest, and I thought to myself, how lucky it hadn't gotten too hot or too sunny just yet. I shook my water bottle to check its volume; it should have been enough water for the return to Wimberley.
About 10 miles returning from Blanco (about mile 60 overall), I started to recognize signs of dehydration. It wasn't just water -- I still had some in my bottle anyway; the salt built up in my kit told the story. Our trio lightened up the pace a smidge, especially on the worst hills. We considered the day -- it seemed as though the clouds must have parted right as we resumed riding: the temperature had risen nearly 10°F -- almost 90°F now.
I emptied my water about 5 miles from town, right after the climb up and out from Jacob's Well. The next several miles consisted of small but short rollers with a crossing tailwind. Beleaguered, I swallowed any pride and sat in the draft. Rolling into the grocery store brought a huge sigh of relief -- I drank two full sports drinks, and dumped another into my bottles for the ride home; other than water, I was still full from my earlier pound-cake.
Feeling much better, the trio set out once again for the last 20 or so miles home. Aside from the 17%-grade Fulton Ranch Road climb, the hills and winds were manageable (but not easy-going). Nearing eight hours, it was no record, but still a century to be proud of, with at least 5,000 feet of climbing.
