Catskill SR600 Ride Report

SR600s are Good for You!

by Iwan Barankay

I am 13 miles from Margaretville. I ran out of water 30 miles ago as the last open store was 81 miles ago – at the start. There was scheduled to be a café 24 miles earlier, but it was shuttered and the brewery next to it was deserted. Then there is this Mobile Gas station where I am now, but I arrived at 3pm and they closed at 2:30pm which Google Maps did not know about. The proprietor was there but when I asked for water the reply was “There is nothing I can do about it.” There was a sign for a library at the next intersection and I tried there but again there was no one. Sprinkled in between are some properties but I don’t see anyone outside. It is hot after all and I am uncertain what reception a disheveled cyclist would receive should I walk up to a house and ask for water. No matter. Cycling is a simple concept. When a pedal is up top you press it down; so that is what I did. Then the cramping started when cycling seated, so I stood up instead which worked. For a while. The next hill started, and my less than smooth thighs had not much to offer to counter the force of gravity. I may be out of water for cycling, but I can walk up those hills. Luckily, I put on fresh cleats before the ride for better grip. Walking also allowed me to be on whatever side of the road offered more shade. I came across a small road turning right and it was shaded so I decided to lie down for just a bit. You see I have this theory about fluids in the body. They need to be in the right place. Lying down can help put them back to where they are more usefully employed to generate power for pedaling. It felt so good to lie there. No cars. The wind blew gently. I was so alert that I heard every leaf in the trees rustling in the afternoon breeze. They all told me to get up, so I did. RWGPS showed me there is one more hill to conquer before Margaretville. Four miles of climbing followed by a nine-mile descent. I already rode over six hills and 8000ft of elevation since my start at 8am.

Actually, I got up at 4am then drove out from Philadelphia to the start at New Paltz, NY. This is not my first attempt at an SR600 this year. It is my third. SR600s are these wonderful mythical creatures. 600km with at least 10000m of elevation. A creation of the famed randonneuse Sophie Matter which she proposed to the Audax Club Parisien in 2008 who received the project favorably and offered administrative support whilst putting Sophie in charge. From 2008 until this year an SR600 is required for the SR10000 award. The core idea is self-reliance so unlike regular 600 brevets no support is permitted at the intermediate controls. The time limit used to be 50 hours but now is 60 hours to make this style of event accessible to more riders. Thus unlike regular 600km brevets with their 40-hour limit the challenge for most riders then is less about staying awake, instead the question is whether one can prepare enough and pace correctly to make it up all those hills. Since then, this event has spread across the globe with close to 4000 completed rides. One never rides these events alone even on a solo attempt like mine in the Catskills as one is part of this shared camaraderie of other riders. Some SR600s have a few long hills as for instance can be the case in Colorado and California. In the Northeast, we have shorter hills, but they are often steeper compared to the gentle slopes in the (Mid-)West. The Catskills SR600 has 33 hills. Some are small but steep. Others are longer ascents but still spicy. Several of the descents were technical as the roads are surfaced with those sharp grey crushed stones instead of asphalt. It is essential to have tires and brakes that are in top shape. I personally am very grateful for my tubeless Continental 5000 paired with Orange Seal: No punctures and no need to pump them up during the ride. Mind you, those crushed stone sections really did a number on my rear wheel which looks like it is infected by acne with rubber coating missing in chunks. I have rim brakes paired with SwissStop pads and my front wheel has an alloy rim which gives me great stopping power. On descents I recommend using intermediate breaking – breaking harder, then releasing them again to let it cool a bit – rather than continually applying the brakes which may cause overheating and glazing of the pads or go with disc brakes.

I start the climb to Margaretville. The next photo control is the Bellayre Ski resort sign which, I guess, is meant to be funny as it is 90°F. I see the sign and push myself to ride to it. “At least to the sign. The sign. The sign,” I keep chanting to keep the rhythm. After I reach it, I treat myself to a bit of walking. Time doesn’t matter. That is another credo of Sophie Matter who instructs local organizers not to publish finish times. Indeed, at her marquee event, the Mille de Sud, a fun little yearly hilly 1000km ride in the South of France, she does not publish finish times, simply lists the names of finishers whether they did it within the time limit or not, the latter marked as HD (hors de lay). As I walk the hills, I am getting ecstatic. This is what randonneuring is about for me. All that matters is the road, the hills, the climb, and to listen to your body. When things go well, keep riding and when things become tricky take it easy. One can do enormous things when one can be in tune with the body and one’s surroundings. Our silly daily lives with all their distractions disconnect us from that harmony and it is events just like the SR600 that reconnect us to our body and mind like few other things can. The challenge is not the hills or the distance but whether one can become absorbed into the ride, to fuse with it. I reach the top and try clip in. It takes a while as my left leg is rock-hard and I worry about slipping. It takes three attempts as if it were jammed. Click. I am in and the descent begins to the Sunoco gas station. There I buy a multitude of things as I don’t know what will work for me. Cold Starbucks milky coffee (380cals!), ice cream, potato chips, V8, Pepsi, and water. I had sandwiches in my bag, but I am unable to get them down my esophagus. There is a nice bench with a table a little away from the gas station and the road. A woman sits there, so I ask whether I can join her. She says she doesn’t mind if I do, but as I sit down, she feigns an excuse and leaves as I may have looked too much out of sorts. I drank the V8 and some Pepsi. Ice cream did not work for me. Then I thought to myself that it would be nice to lie down a bit. I blinked once and awoke 45minutes later fully rested and hungry for those potato chips. It was now getting much cooler. That is the thing with these hilly rides which are hot during the day with the climbs and then frigid at night with the descents. The chill felt sublime on my legs, and I pedal into the evening to my motel in Roscoe having stocked up with Styrofoam soup noodles as I knew there would be nothing open between here and there or in Roscoe by the time I will arrive at 10pm.

Some SR600s traverse mountainous areas where the climbs are often in forested area. The Catskills, however, are more like rolling hills offering many views and vistas. A continuous feast for the eyes. The light shades each hill polychrome. I stopped looking at the elevation profile instead I just let the hills come to me rather than attacking them. They pick me up and I slide down on the other side. I contemplate pushing to the end and finish at a projected 3am but I felt that this does not sound like fun. So I call a motel in Delhi, NY (pronounced Dell-Hi) and they have a room available. What awaits me is pure bliss. As I arrive the proprietor, who is from India, asks about my ride and then he told me his story how in ’83 he cycled for over a year from India to New York. First East across Asia, then flew to Australia and rode from West to East then flew up to San Francisco via Hawaii. In the US he took a southern route but then rode up to Chicago for fund raising and bike repairs before riding to New York. What an amazing ride and to top it off, he gave me the room for free. What a contrast to my encounter the day before at the gas station that refused me water. I fall asleep at 8pm and wake up at 2am fresh as a whistle and set off into night. The time between 2 and 5am is particularly magical. The birds are still asleep, and everything is quiet. There is no moon, and the stars are twinkling all around me. Not hearing any cars either reminds me of what cycling usually was like when randonneuring started and I imagine all those cyclists on this stretch of road twenty, fifty, or a hundred years ago. It is frigid when I reach the country store in Grand Gorge where they have tables inside and serve warm breakfast sandwiches wrapped in aluminum foil. I open it to take a bite, exhale and the warm air washes all over my face. What a feeling! It is a weekday and the local craftsman meet there for breakfast. A guy arrives, swings the door open and announces to everybody “$145 to fill ‘er up!”

Going eastward towards the finish one approaches Woodstock, NY via the famous Karma Triyana Dharmachakra Buddhist temple with prayer flags hanging in the trees leading up to it. After a twisty descent it is a shock to get into busy Woodstock, but it fades quickly into the rearview as there are some long climbs behind it. This was the only point where I got angry – at a hill for being a hill. But I stopped and drank some Pepsi I bought before, and the sugar lifts my spirits for the final stretch to New Paltz. Albert Camus introduces in the essay “The Myth of Sisyphus” his philosophy of the absurd stemming from our need to attribute meaning to our life and actions and receiving “unreasonable silence” in response. I felt a kindred spirit with Sisyphus on this SR600 where I kept climbing hill after hill just to roll down them again. Camus’ essay concludes, "The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy".

—Iwan