Day Two

Miles: 92.93
Camp: Colusa, CA Colusa High School (?)
Temp: 101 degrees (unofficially: 105 -- reported from sign on the side of a building)
Winds: 10-15 mph

Day two started at 4.30 in the morning. The early wake-up call was to help protect us from the extreme heat. The head honcho for the ride, Joaquin, and his wife Ann walked around singing us awake. It was a lovely version of the Goodnight Loving Trail -- a song I remember quite well from my childhood, but I've not heard anyone singing it for over 15 years.

Day Two was, as it always is, Hawaiian shirt day. We wear our happiest, loudest Hawaiian shirts in honor of in and memory of those we've lost to AIDS. We rolled out of Gridley in the morning in nice cool temperatures (it might have dropped as low as 75 over night, if that) and headed east and then North. We'd heard that the winds were not as strong, and that we would go north for part of the day, loop around and head south. This means that even if we DID have north winds again, eventually, "god-willing and the creeks don't rise," we'd turn around and have a tailwind. Sounds like a great plan.
Well -- the creeks rose. We had a fairly mild headwind in the morning, and by the time we turned and headed south in the afternoon, the winds shifted and we riding into it again. Not terribly strong. But strong enough. I spent the morning coughing and sweating and generally being exhausted. I needed to be in bed with a humidifier and a cold washcloth. Not on a bike in a dry heat.
Our lunch people got into the theme of the day:















We learned that morning (or maybe the night before) that the optional Table Mountain climb was no longer an option due to the heat. People seemed relieved -- I think there were a lot of people whose egos would have made them do it even if they didn't want to. I had decided the night before we left that I wasn't going to do anything to make an already challenging ride any more challenging than it needed to be. [I also told myself not to rule out riding some of the miles in a car, but I think my ego is louder than my bronchitis.]

Day two was when the singing began in earnest. There was some singing on the first day, especially when Emily saw that my coughing was not only threatening to knock me off my bike, but was also making me pretty miserable and pitiful. But the second day she and I sang for an audience. We were riding with 3-4 other people and singing a little bit, but when I started up "There's a hole in the bucket" was when the show really got rolling (pun intended, sort of). You can see how much folks were enjoying the show by their big smiles:

Then we tried involving everyone in a round of "row row row your boat" -- that gets surprisingly boring in rapid order. We got to a great rest stop after lunch sometime that was in the shade, had lots of food and water and the little corner-store-in-the-middle-of-nowhere had free ice cream bars for us. I didn't partake, but it was fun to watch people try to eat them faster than they were melting. This photo is of Jeff -- I missed the hand-down-the-pants-applying-butt-butter by about 10 seconds. It's generally around this time on the Ride that people stop hiding behind trees or cars (or in bathrooms, if any) to smear the lube on the shorts.

At this rest-stop, they told us in a rather sugar-coated way that we'd have about 20 miles until the next stop, and that the road out was "bumpy" for about the next 6 (?) miles. Roads with bumps in them are bumpy. This was more like a few strips of asphalt surrounded by a plethora of pot holes. It was a slalom (funny how it only takes saying that word a few times before it doesn't sound like a word anymore) course, but if you missed, you fell into a pit of gravel. Emily and I took up singing again. She sang some songs from church or church camp or just family songs, and I tried (pretty unsuccessfully) to remember the words to some Joe Wise songs. The thing about riding 90+ miles is that there's lots of time to think of songs to sing. But the thing about riding 90+ miles in 100+ degrees is that there's not a lot of clear-thinking to remember songs to sing.

At the end of the bumpy road, after we'd met up with rider Paul, we saw three of the Sisters of Scota on their motorcycles who were there to warn us of an oily turn ahead. They also had ice and cold water so we stopped for a bit to re-fill bottles and dump the old water on our heads. I think the ride would be very different without these women (and probably not as safe).

When we finally came into town, there was a store that had one of those digital signs to show the time and temp -- we rode in at 2:30, and it read 101. Later riders reported that it said 104 and 105.
We camped that night at the Colusa high school, but we weren't supposed to be there until after the kids left for the day. Someone had negotiated to let us hang out in the barely-air-conditioned cafeteria until we could set up camp. Who knows what sorts of harmful lessons we would have offered the kids about commitment, hard work, and community if we'd been allowed access. There was a swamp cooler and a giant fan in the cafeteria and we were all exhausted, but we did the best we could. Because we were supposed to be mostly invisible, we also had to bring our bikes in with us.




























































Before we got there, they must have watered the grass where we were camping for about three hours. It was a swamp. Hot outside, wet grass, mosquitoes, and the sun wasn't going down for another 4-5 hours from when we pitched our tents. I should be more appreciative of their letting us camp there, but it's hard to muster. We showered in the girls locker room (well, I did -- the boys went to the boys locker room). I doubt I ever showered at the gym when I was in high school, but I had flashbacks anyway.

I couldn't get my shower head to cool off (I tried three different ones) -- it went from hot to scalding, and all I wanted was a cold shower to bring my temp down a bit.

During the evening program, Emily and I learned that people had appreciated our concerts -- we both got an award and won a pair of brand new biking gloves each! I was glad Joaquin gave her the pink ones and me the purple ones. I don't think I have anything to accessorize with pink gloves.

Overall, it was a good day. I don't think I cried once, my cough seemed to improve (even though my throat was scratchy from the singing), our ride support was magnificent and omnipresent, and folks seemed to be in good spirits. We heard that night from the Executive Director of AIDS Housing Alliance who told us that our money (in addition to $15 million other dollars) was going to build a nearly-complete housing complex for AIDS patients and their families. The project is amazingly one of the greenest building complexes around, meeting or exceeding green building standards, sometimes by over 40%. The challenge that the fantastic strides in AIDS research and medicine has created is that people are living longer and more healthfully with AIDS than ever before. Government disability income provides anywhere from $230-$920 per month. AHA lets people live here for about 1/3 of their income with a credit for utilities. The complex will also have an on-site clinic and a social work office. They are truly doing amazing things for our Sacramento community.

After that -- to bed. The night was all kinds of miserable for all kinds of reasons, but there's no sense in whining any more about that. But I will add that we were serenaded at one point by some local hooligans who screeched by in their cars yelling, "WAKE UP!!" -- that was about 12:30 a.m. -- 4 hours before our wake up call.

Coming up: You thought day two was hot??