There is a fairly large county park near my house with a great deal of green space. It has some big grassy fields, a swampy low lying area, and a number of wooded sections surrounding it.
It's pretty cool to find such a place right in the middle of Suburbia, without paved bike paths or groomed mulch beds. Because of the rugged nature of the park, it is typically overwhelmed by a large deer population.
I have been working over the last 18 months or so to clear away downed tree branches and debris off of narrow trails and paths that the deer make in the wooded areas in the park. The cool thing is, after working at it for a while, the deer begin to traffic the trails I create, helping them to appear traveled and keeping back small plant growth on the trail.
The trail network is starting to come together. What was once an impassable brush field, now has around 3 miles of single track. Now granted, I haven't asked anyone for permission to do this, so it's all a matter of perception as to whether people like it or not, but it appears more and more hikers and park visitors are beginning to experience active deer paths and the wildlife that live there. Isn't this what going to the park should be about?
My wife Erin recently had our fourth child. Interestingly enough, her OB is a cyclist, and somehow the conversation of things, Erin told her that I was an avid cyclist myself, but that I was struggling to find anyone to ride with. She offered to get me on an email list of rides and riders in the Buffalo area.
I got the first email 2 weeks ago about a Sataurday spring training ride. It was mapped out to be 70 miles of fun averaging 16-18mph. With a bit of anxiety, I accepted the invite. While I had been riding and training all along, it had been 2 years since I had been on a 70 miler.
I reached the parking lot to start the ride with really no time to spare. I had intentions of being there early and getting warm, but it just didn't happen. But the riders were pleasant and welcoming, and in a few minutes 8 of us were on our way.
The ride started out at a comfortable pace, riders exchanged pleasantries while I tried to memorize a slew of new names. The course was fun, it was quickly obvious that whoever mapped it out had spent a great deal of time riding the area. The first 10 miles consisted of country roads, narrow sidewalks, a section of rails to trails, and an off road section on an old railroad bed complete with railroad ties and downed tree branches. I was happy to be riding the least expensive bike in the bunch on this section, while the guys around me hurled insults and curses at the ride organizer for taking a road ride off the pavement.
15 miles or so in, we had reached the UB campus bike path, and had picked up the pace significantly. Unfortunately, the path had been recently resurfaced, and one of our riders went down on the slick surface while leaning in hard around a quick turn. I felt particularly bad for the fellow, because he had ridden his bike 12 miles to the starting parking lot, so he had that much further to go when we got back. His bike was ok, but his hip was now showing through his kit, and there was some blood cached on his elbow. He was in good spirits though, and after a few minutes for everyone I catch their breath, we continued on.
The course took some fun urban twists after that with a couple of fly by's on college campuses, the Buffalo Zoo, and even a section on cobblestone streets. We stopped for coffee and a muffin, then headed on for more. My spirits were high, and my legs felt good, bit so did everyone else's apparently, because the average speed kept creeping higher and higher.
We formed a pace line and worked it really well along the waterfront where the wind really started to pick up. I got my initiation as the new guy near Dicks bike shop along the waterfront when the wind really started picking up. It was my turn to pull, and I was determined to keep the pace steady... However, when I tried to peel off, with traffic around and stuff, it seemed like no one would let me off the front. I found out why a few seconds later when the pack raced by me to their favorite unspoken checkpoint, a rusty sign along the road. I had pulled them most of the way up the slight grade, then nearly fell off the back when the sudden acceleration attacked. I tell you what, when you see it on TV, it looks way easier to catch back up.
Then came the bad part of the ride...
We had made our way through the Tonawandas, and we were nearing Ellicott Creek Park, when the worst thing that happens on a bike happened.
We were lined up in two pace lines side by side whizzing along at 23-24mph, the last time I remember looking down. The road got rough. Potholes were everywhere, and we were all doing our best to call them out to everyone. You see, when riding in a pack like this it is customary to call out debris in the road to those behind you, because essentially everyone is tailgating one another... within a few inches from the rear tire in front of you. If something happens, rarely is there enough time to react. There wasn't.
The lead rider in the left pace line pulled off and decided to ride in the opposing lane of traffic, because the asphalt was much safer. 2 riders joined him, but with traffic coming towards us a ways down the road, most of the pack remained. The potholes worsened, and the fluid pace-line fell apart. Then two riders in front of me collided.
The first rider was in red, (ill leave names out of it) and he hit a pothole that sent him into desperation mode. He was all out of shape, and appeared to be going down. The second rider was in blue, and he hit something milliseconds later that collided him with Mr Red. The collision righted Mr Red, but Mr Blue was thrown into a side whip that slammed him into the ground.
I was grabbing for brakes and looking for exit daylight along with everyone else at this point, but as I shot up into some ladies front yard, I heard a loud cracking noise. It may have been the sound of Mr Blue's bike hitting the deck, or his helmet smacking pavement, or his collarbone snapping, I'm not sure.... but I won't forget it.
As I came to a stop, Mr Blue was screaming out in pain, but quickly rolled himself to the safety of the shoulder of the road. He was in excruciating pain, and the sight was not pretty.
One of the riders immediately called 911 and we did all we could do to keep him comfortable until they arrived. Ironically, I thought about taking pictures at the time, but felt it was too much given the situation at hand, and the fact I didn't know these guys very well. In afterthought, I might take pictures if something like this happened again, just to help document the crash.
Mr Blue's helmet was severely damaged, but still intact. I believe his colarbone and a couple ribs were broken. His bike was scraped up, but not severely damaged... Handbars twisted slightly, the nose of the seat was facing almost straight down, suggesting his entire body weight must have slammed against it.
From the pothole that started it to the end of the crash site was 4-5 car lengths or more, which shows you how fast he was traveling. But it had all happened in a blink of an eye.
It had really shaken Mr Red. It had really shaken me. After waiting an hour or more to make sure Mr Blue was getting to the hospital safe, his bike taken care of, and his family notified... I had lost much of my motivation to finish the ride. Fortunately, so had every one else. We took a direct route home, only about 10 miles. This time, every hole was signaled, every piece of debris noted, and the speed in which we were traveling decreased.
It was a bad finish to a great day. Thankfully, the rider is recovering well, and should be able to get back out there before the fall months hit again. It is a good reminder to me how quickly things can change on a bike, and how much I need to pray for God to protect me. With what I saw happen, I believe it could have been far worse.