Learning to Read the Road

By all accounts, getting a crew together to ride across great distances, through varied terrain, and dodgy weather can be a complex undertaking. When it is with your usual riding companions, however, you tend to be aware of the possible pitfalls that may arise. Or, at the very least, you're ready to accept them head-on together.

Words: Jeremy Dunn, Photos: Jānis Hofmanis

This alertness has only come about by your extended (maybe) extensive (yes) miles or kilometers spent together in the saddle. Your ride-or-dies have your back, or at least we’d like to think so, because of the times you’ve had theirs. Over the years, in all manner of cycling situations — riding to and fro, up the same hills, through that same cemetery loop, plotting new rides, pointing out potholes, handing off extra snacks, changing each other's flats, or chiding each other from the sidelines — you’ve built a familiarity, an acumen even, that lets you roll together seamlessly.

None of this is true for a group that has never ridden together before.
For that kind of ride we’re forced to figure it out as we go.

So what exactly happens when a group that doesn’t know each other comes together to tackle a route or ride that is foreign to all parties? What gets left on the road stays on the road, but hopefully somewhere along the way we all come to terms with what it takes to ride with each other. It has been said (mostly by me) that to successfully ride together with a new group, to build a new squad out of nothing, you must be prepared to give up something you know to be true about yourself.

The catch is, you’re not going to know what that is, or when the giving up will happen.

For this group of riders, we grappled well with varying levels of fitness (see you later guys!), weather, and even an errant flat or three. But we searched high and low for the glue that would hold us together.

Turns out, it came in many familiar forms, we just needed to be open to it all. For some it would be the wafting scent of roadside espresso, arriving in our nostrils just as we needed it. A warm, dry layer to put on as the humidity takes over and the tall trees of the Pacific Northwest block out those last rays of summer sun. A new view of the ocean. Or even a tall tale or kind word to distract us from our current state.

And yet others, as we come to find and learn more about our new friends, need something intangible, a mantra of sorts to help you through the rough patches that often ride the coattails of long rides.

“Chug, Chug, Chug” was the one that got us through. And while it worked in the morning hours when one of two fancy coffee mugs was in use, it somehow also works on the bike to motivate the general pace and attitude of all present.

What we gave up? What were we forced to reckon with? Which bits of gear and snacks helped us get to the other side? Well, that ran the gamut for all involved, but it is safe to say that however different it was for each person, we all came out on the other side with another party, another coterie of companionable cyclists to turn to when faced with those future long rides.