Ken Krichman, Tom Brett and Tony Licuanan

Ken Krichman, Tom Brett and Tony Licuanan at the start. Photo by Tony Licuanan

From: Tony Licuanan <>

Date: Mon, 12 Apr 2004 11:21 PM

To: Kent Peterson <>

Here's my ride report. - Tony

SIR 300K Ride Report - April 10, 2004

The weather is perfect. Sunblock is a must, and a light windbreaker is all that a rider would need for the start and finish.

This was an interesteing ride for me.

First off, being still sick just the night prior to the SIR300K, made me start the ride feeling about 90% at best. I'd been sick close to 2 weeks of coughing and wheezing. But, I'd try it anyway.

What the heck. Take it easy. (I just want to catch the last ferry back toSeattle).

Also, because I have read the prior ride report about this 300K before, I replaced my 42T chainring with a 39t (night prior the ride), to help me up the hills. I use a 16t cog, with a flip side of a 17t cog, to be used after Kay's Corner.

It's 5:00 am. I get up and make sure I got everything I need for the ride. This is the SIR300K. It has over 9,000 feet of climbing. I better have everything I need. Sandwiches, Payday bars, Gatorade, lights, fenders, etc... My Seven fixed gear bike is packed and ready to go.

5:30 am, my wife Cindy hops on her Litespeed and rides with me from our home in West Seattle to the ferry docks. What can I say? My wife to me, is like winning the lottery.

At Bainbridge, on a parking lot, we assemble for the 7:00am start. I take a few pics. What a lovely day. I heard of stories that would make one believe that randonneuring is supposed to be this wet, gloomy, nasty, windy, unforgiving, too cold or, too hot never just right weather. But, since my first ride of the 100K, and then the 200K, plus today - it's been perfect.

Whoops, it's 7:00 am. Gotta go!

At Hadlock control (mile 39), my new chainring began making this unfriendly rubbing noise. I think about it and realize that I may have bought a thicker *single-speed* chainring. My chain is a tad too tight for it. #@$%^ I'm giving this ride my best at 90%, only to find out 39 miles later, drivetrain is squeezing the life blood out of me.

There's a God... after a few miles of listening to the disgusting sound of "squeeesh - squeeesh" of my pedal stroke, I had to go *P* and found a small turn-about spot on the side of US 101. I got off the bike and noticed that some *jerk-off* left a bunch of garbage on the side on the road. I'm here, looking at: Ho-ho wrappers, beer cans, a quart of engine oil, etc... WAIT!!! I quickly empty the rest of that oil all over my chain. This guy's not a jerk, he's a good samaritan. I ride in silence once again. Still not as efficient I know, but now I ride quietly.

After Hoodsport control, I missed the SR 106 "UNION" turn. Don't know how. But, a stop at a small local restaurant a few miles later, helped me find my way back to SR 106. I add 4-5 miles to my ride here. No extra charge.

At SR 106, just to be 100% sure, I stop and ask a couple of older gentlemen taking a walk by the water, if I was indeed back on track, on SR 106. One says, "You're on it boy."

The other, "Where you headin?"

"I just wanna get to Belfair", I said.

"Well, it's 17 miles that away", points to the NW direction.

I gave both of them the biggest smile of relief, fully knowing I am back on track, no longer lost. They look at each other shruggin their shoulders, as if to ask if heard them correctly? That Belfair is about 17 miles far away! But instead, I look happy. Relieved.

Oh YEAH I was.

<Rewind> Let's go back in the thick of the woods, when I was lost, before I found SR 106. I was in the boonies. There's nothing around but big tall trees.The road was narrow. A pick-up truck blew past by me, with somebody screaming, "GIT OUTA DA ROAD!". A little scare. An awkward moment.

I swear, I was starting to hear the banjo playing from that movie, "Deliverance".


"Squeal like a pig" creepy.

About 5 miles before Belfair, I see a guy with his bike under a tree shade, taking a break while calmly smoking a cigarette. It's Christof with his cool retro Jack Taylor bicycle. Here I am, sort of in a panic, and Christof's calmly smoking a cigarette. Brits are cool. We ride together to control #4 at Kay's Corner.

The Tahuya hills are here. It's mile 135. I was warned about this hilly area. And sure enough, after what feels like getting smacked in the head a few times, the Dewatto and Holly hills are next just waiting in line. New at randonneuring, I feel like a new kid in school. The hills are like the bullies, just waiting in line to take a smack at me. And I'm ready for the pounding.

At one point on a descent, a deer is on the road about 100 yards in front of me. Hearing stories about other randonneurs running into cows in the middle of the road, in the wee hours of the morning, I made as much noise as I can. Bambi runs off. Whew! I'm safe.

Speaking of safe, there's this stupid legendary monster of a dog at the bottom of the Tahuya hills somewhere. I am assured, he was *NOT* a myth. Chases pretty fast, if you ask me. I don't want to kill this dog. I want others, to kill it for me.

Mile 154, I gladly walk up the Seabeck Holly Road. I have nothing left in me to tackle this mutant mountain from hell.

It's dark now. I see a flashing red light up front. It's Christof, waving his taillight. I'm at the Seabeck control. It is now 9: 00 pm, mile 164. Here, I indulge myself with the best hot chocolate I've ever tasted in my life. Whipped cream and all. Matter of fact, I have two. I stay here for 45 minutes. It's a very long and unplanned break, (Jan Heine's *overall* break is less than that) but I had to listen to my body. It's either 45 minutes, or quit. Quit? Ha! I'd turn around and ride back first, before I'd quit.

But, it's less stupid to just go on and proceed. I go on.

It's dark. It's hard to see the road signs and navigate. I keep passing my turns just by a bit. So, I slow down to make sure I don't miss anymore turns. I am new to randonneuring. Riding at night, in a foreign place is difficult and not to mention, un-nerving.

At the freeway (SR 3), a car honked at me. I don't think they're quite sure if I'm suppose to be there.


Mile 186, at Agate Pass bridge, my rear wheel hits a small hole on the road. I hit it hard. I hope I don't get a flat now. I just want to catch the last ferry back to Seattle.  I'm not religious but yes, I am praying. Hard.

Mile 191, the sign on the road says something like, "keep left for ferries"

The road is so rough? Chipseal? I don't remember...

At the FINISH, Peter was there to welcome me back to life. Christof was still there along with another gentleman (I can't remember his name, not right now anyway). Warm blankets, a chair to sit on and a stool to lift my legs upon, made all of it like the "Ritz" for me. I came in 10 minutes before 1:00 am. Plenty of time to catch the last ferry back to Seattle at 1:25 am. I'm glad to hand over my passport card.

All day long, I keep saying to myself that I just want to catch the last ferry back to Seattle, and I did.


Before the ferry I noticed my rear tire was completely flat, thus explaining the rough terrain I felt the last mile, or two. I probably got a slow leak, since that *hole* over Agate Pass bridge crossing. And probably rode the last mile with a completely flat rear tire. I'm glad I am using the TUFO tubular clincher tires. They stay on the rim, even when completely flat.

What a great ride!

Tony Licuanan at the finish.
Tony Licuanan: First Year Rando Rider, First 300K and all on a Fixed Gear! Photo by Peter Beeson