Sink or Swim Century Ride Report
August 23, 2009

      For an August morning, it was surprisingly chilly as I slid out of my truck at Westport Park. The forecast had promised a mostly sunny day with a high of just 71 degrees, but at that moment, it was still in the mid-fifties. I pulled on a light jacket. It was going to be a great day for a Century ride. I had parked next to a pickup with a boat trailer.  Peering out over the water I found him; barely visible from shore was a lone boater out on the Ohio, fishing in the still waters before sunrise.

      A few bikers arrived with their vehicles and slipped quietly into parking spaces nearby. Steve Sexton was the earliest arrival, but before long there were dozens.  I was beginning to wonder if the boater would be able to find his car in the lot when he got back. Page after page was filling up for the sign-in sheets, and we were running out of parking spaces!  I called out to the arriving riders to double up in the parking slots.  The spaces were big enough to hold a car and trailer, so they were big enough to hold two cars.

      Bernice McGill sidled over and began plying us with an abundance of cookies and brownies.  The big grin on Perry Finley's face told the story; everyone is happy when "Nana" shows up at a ride. Although I knew most of the riders, there were a few I didn't recognize. Jim Kosmos was riding with us for the first time.  Andy Horray was riding his first century in about a year.  Many of you know Andy's wife Janice Theriot who rides with us regularly.  It was good to have Andy joining us.

      With the ride briefing complete, we were ready for departure when the rev of an engine and a screech of tires startled us all.  Dave King came barreling around the corner into the park.  Poor Dave had overslept and barely made it to the park in time. Dave hurriedly readied his bike and urged us to take off, he would catch up.  I didn't want to leave Dave behind.  I figured he had at least 7 or 8 minutes of prep to do.  That could put him as much as two miles behind the main group.  But Dave wouldn't hear of it and insisted I take off with the group.

      As we pedaled along Eighteen Mile Creek road, riders spread out for a quarter of a mile. I sprinted ahead and then pulled over to take some pictures of the group as the riders whirred by. The morning fog was beginning to thin as the sun pierced the forest canopy. A Blue Heron was fishing in the stream next to me. I smiled, at least this fisher wouldn't have to worry about finding his car when he had caught his limit. As we climbed the northeast end of 524, I caught sight of Dave King in my helmet mirror.  He must have been flying to catch us so fast.

      At Eminence, we mobbed a friendly Marathon employee who very patiently checked our purchases of Gatorade and crackers.  Three of the riders split off to do the short route, a 55 mile course back through Sulphur.  The rest of us continued on through New Castle and then down Drennon Road. We flew past the Smith Berry Winery on the way down towards the Kentucky River.  Last week we had climbed this long highway.  Riders climbing "Dreaded Drennon" may sometimes encounter a "Whinery" long before they reach Smith Berry.  Trust me, down this hill is much better.

      Highway 389 took us through shady corridors along the Kentucky River and finally into Carrollton. About half of us stopped at Welch's Riverside Restaurant for lunch with a view of the Ohio River.  The rest crossed the bridge into Prestonville for a quick snack at the Shell station.

      The air was still cool outside as we entered the restaurant. The riverside restaurant is where riders traditionally take a quick dip in the Ohio to cool off.  As I washed up for lunch, I briefly considered my choices on this "Sink or Swim Century" ride.  "Too cold outside," I thought as I flipped off the faucet handle with wet hands. "I think I'll settle for this little 'sink' and forget about taking a little 'swim.'"

      After lunch, we turned down Carlisle Road to begin our journey home.  Off to our right was a creek pretentiously named the "Little Kentucky River."  The little brother to the river we had seen earlier was tiny by comparison.  The bigger "Kentucky River" is navigable with locks and dams and goes way past Frankfort; this little "river" wasn't very wide and didn't go very far but was still picturesque.

      Eventually, we wound our way through Sulphur and back into Pendleton for one last store stop.  A few minutes later, Rob Pfeister rolled in. "I'm not cutting your route, Doc.  I was chasing Timmy Chilton up Highway 421 and got dropped.  I guess the effort made me a little delirious.  I missed my turn at Campbellsburg and then missed another in Sulphur.  I think I've got about eight miles extra credit!"

      The group was in good spirits for the final leg home.  We rambled past horse farms in L'Espirit, startling a Red-tailed Hawk which took flight before alighting on a power line to keep watchful eye over us.  Once we reached the northeast end of highway 524, the rest was down hill.  The long gentle stretch we had climbed earlier in the day gave us nearly seven miles of blissful coasting for weary legs.  Bobbie Leslie let out her signature whoop as we rolled back into Westport Park.