June 19 - 61 miles from Ka-Nee-Ta, an Indian Hotel/Casino on the Warm Springs Indian reservation to Prineville, OR. Delightul scenery of Cascade snow-topped volcanoes and the Deschutes River.
June 20 - 112 miles, with >5,000 ft of uphill, from Prineville to John Day, OR. Perhaps the toughest day on the trip, and really tough for me, and more or less everyone. Wonderful vistas, from lush wheatfields, to mountains, to the John Day Canyon. My favorite part was a pace line we had going for nearly 20 miles, going over 20 mph almost the entire time (though it was mostly downhill), and I took my turn leading for 8 or 9 miles. Great fun. Least favorite: 2,000 ft, 8 mile hills. Real tired after this day.
June 21 - 82 miles from John Day to Baker City, OR. 3 passes over the Blue Mts. of eastern Oregon, perhaps 4,000 ft of vertical. Whoever heard of the Blue Mts, or know that the area was so lush with forests, snow capped peaks and rushing streams?Still, a tough day following the previous one. Sore legs, sore feet, sore backs, and especially sore butts, common to most, including me. Bike seats really are not comfortable things.
America has a pretty, some would say extremely, competitive
culture. As my children (and
probably my former workmates) will attest, this applies to me as much as
anyone, perhaps more than most. I
can be pretty competitive about almost anything – sports, trivia games,
backgammon, travel stories, etc.
Bicycling is no exception to the cultural norm. If riders are not competitive in the
racing sense, then they tend to be in the informal ways our culture exhibits
its competitive streak – who has done what route; coolest rides; best time for
a century (100 mile ride); latest, most high tech bike; etc. etc. Riders can even be competitive about
who is the least snobby, the most low tech – “had this old bike for 20 years”,
“well, I barely trained at all”, etc. (not unlike people who make a point of
their lack of attention to fashion or non-materialism.)
When the America by Bicycle tour group formed last Sunday,
there was a lot of the competitive spirit present; everyone checking each other
out – type of bike (carbon fiber – good, titanium – really cool), number of
tours/trips done, even size of calves (usually an indicator of a strong
rider.) Then of course on the
first several days of riding, the group was straightening out a pecking order –
the strong riders, the weak, the middle of the pack (more or less, mostly less,
where I fit.) Competition to see
who can set the fastest pace line, go fastest up the hills, and of course
finish the day earliest. All as
expected in our culture.
But then a funny thing happened over several days. On the 3rd day, we took the
tough ride over the Cascades (66 miles, 5,200 ft of up hill) then yesterday,
the 5th, the enormous 112 mile, 5,000 vertical ft. ride from
Prineville to John Day.
These were tough days, for anyone. The Prineville-John Day ride may be
the most physically demanding day of my life (up there with a few really tough
backpacking days.) Just to finish and being able to continue the next day was
success. By the end of these days,
what I sensed in the group was a fairly comprehensive loss of the competitive
culture. Now the attitude, the
questions, are more like “did you have a good ride?”, “how are you feeling?”,
swapping stories of the day. No
one cares how their bike compares to another’s, or where you fall in the
pecking order (though of course we kind of all know that now, evidencing our
exquisite human ability to quickly establish status orders in any
situation.) Perhaps some past ride
snobbery left, but pretty much we have seen a group of disparate strangers,
naturally competitive, merge into a group of friends (albeit still at a pretty
superficial level) concerned about each other’s welfare.
Now all this is not surprising. Forging a team from competitive strangers through a common
ordeal is a strategy as old as humanity – after all, this is what army boot
camp is all about, not to mention much of training for any team sport, or most
ancient, initiation rites.
Corporations picked up on this; hence the fad in the 90’s for
“team-building” retreats and exercises (generally of little value in my
experience – what builds a real team is a genuine experience, not an
artificial, imposed exercise.)
My bet is that, well before the end of the ride, the group
will form into a fairly cohesive team, becoming “battle buddies”, sometimes
establishing long-lasting friendships, but always rooting for the success of
everyone (though of course still
with cliques and likely a few individuals kept or keeping themselves apart from
the group.) And we will all feel
real good about this. We will
belong, we will be valued, we will have friends. Perhaps it is this, more than the riding or the scenery,
that keeps bringing the “repeaters” back.
And likely this type of intense of bike touring is highly successful in
giving this esprit de corps over and over, so the repeaters behavior is
rational and rewarded.
I suppose this observation of group formation is nothing
new, but it is fun, at least for reflective types like me. And perhaps there is a point: somewhere inside almost anyone, I
suspect that they would value genuine, deep “belonging” more than any material
possession, any competitive success.
Our competitive culture is misguiding us. Vince Lombardi was wrong – winning is not the only
thing. Every retiree speech ever made
is right – it was the people, the freinds, the spirit that made the
experience rewarding.
John Keith
