Bicycling goes to Sea Otter Part II: Winning the Fondo

After Saturday's fun industry ride, Saturday brought the Sea Otter Gran Fondo, which was also sponsored by Bicycling Magazine. Unfortunately, I was the only member of the staff to participate in the full, 96-mile distance, while .com Matt represented us on the 50-mile ride.

For anyone not familiar, a fondo is a mass-start event, where everyone lines up and starts at once, and for which times are taken as participants follow a controlled (but not closed-to-traffic) course. The key difference is the mixing of ability levels. They are also not sanctioned by governing bodies. Some folks liken these event to charity events, at which racing is definitively uncool, but I say that there is a start line, a finish line, and a results sheet, so ... race on!

After last week's bitter disappointment at Battenkill, I was out for revenge at the Fondo, and had been telling co-workers all week that I was going to win the event. Some thought I was being a crank, but fondos are raced in Europe, where they exist almost in place of amateur racing, or, at least, to simulate a race-like experience for some riders. Also, I thought it would be fun, and the only real race I could have done was a four-day stage race, which would have cut to much into work time.

Regardless of motive, I made good on my promise to win the fondo, crossing the line in just a shade over five hours. Results are here. Incidentally, I also set the day's fastest time on the 40-minute (for me) grinder up Carmel Valley Road at about mile 55.

The slightly longer version is that the group of about 300 people rolled out under the dual guidance of Gary Erickson and Patrick Grady at a pretty smart pace (you can read Patrick's write-up on the fondo here, he was even kind enough to mention me and post a photo he shot on the fly), working our way along the bottom of a valley, passing laborers working in the fields. I passed the time chatting with Alex, a Velo News ad rep, who, like me, had to pass up on the opportunity to race at Sea Otter. The front of the ride rolled along at chatting pace, and passed the first of five rest stops without stopping. We stopped at the next stop, but Gary flew the coop while I was filling my water bottles, so the chase was on once everyone was fueled.

Working with Patrick and Alex into a headwind, we eventually caught back up to Gary, right at the base of Carmel Valley Road. The climb was a 10-mile grinder that worked its way up a broad and deep canyon, getting steeper and steeper as we went up, eventually opening into sloped fields dotted with cattle. Just for the fun of it -- I put the screws to the VN guy when it got steep in the last 3K -- Gary was long gone -- and reached the Cahoon Summit in a time of 41:39, the day's fastest time. The bottom was pretty flat, and the climb could easily have been five or ten minutes faster if Alex and I had pushed the pace at the bottom. In many ways, the climb was really just like Lake D on steroids -- false flat on the bottom and steep on top.

After cresting the climb, pausing to fill my bottles at the first rest stop, and re-grouping with Alex, we took off. The descent wasn't particularly steep, and we had yet another head wind, so it was tough going, but we got a rotation going and forged onward. After winding through some towns, we eventually arrived at the base of Laurel Grade, the previous day's major obstacle. Although it was shorter then the previous climb, we had a lot more miles in our legs, and the climb hurt a lot.

The wheels came of VN Alex's bus pretty quickly, and I crested alone, cruised down the other side of the ridge, then suffered mightily alone in the headwind and on the last few rollers, overtaking folks finishing the 50-mile route (which started two hours later.) The last few miles were kind of a bummer, on a busy road with a narrow shoulder, and a European fondo would have had a little fanfare at the finish for the winner, but such was not the case on Saturday.

I sprinted to the finish, but no one cared, except my co-workers, with whom I went to lunch straightaway.

The ultimate conclusions are these: fondos are fun, riding in California is beautiful.