Ride Journal: Day One July 19, 2001 Today's ride: Bear Mountain NY to New Haven CT, approx. 82 miles BEAR MOUNTAIN (NY) - I overslept a bit last night, which is hardly a surprise given my still-jetlagged body and wee bit of sleep I got at my Mom's place. I think anxiety and excitement got the better of me and I had a tough time getting some shut-eye last night. But here we are again back at Bear Mountain Inn, me and Mom, 5:30 AM. My body still at 2:30 AM Pacific time, calmed from only 4 hours' sleep was protesting "what the heck are you doing to me"? No mind, I'm here now, all too jazzed to take off on this journey I've anticipated for many months. As soon as I part ways with Mom, having loaded my luggage into one of the travelling gear trucks, I feel like a little kid sent off to Summer camp, mildly down for not being with anybody I know, but slightly assured that I would meet some new friends and acquaintances on this trip. Sure enough, just as I wait in line to get some breakfast, I hear an excited squelch from the left, "Hey, you're Alfonso, that website guy!" It's Amy Hemphill, a Connecticut-based rider with whom I exchanged a few e-mails a few months ago when she took notice of this website. What an awesome treat -- I'm instantly perked. I watch upon most of today's brief, yet emotional opening ceremony from a distance. By tradition, members of the Positive Pedalers team, a group of HIV-positive cyclists and active participants behind the scenes of the AIDSRides, march a "riderless" bicycle and helmet in honor of all who have died of AIDS. Witnessing this, remembering the reasons for which I ride and those to whom I dedicated my ride -- Thomas Louisville, Joelana Louisville, John D. Peterman and all AIDS victims in the Philippines, the persistent work and sacrifices my wife and I made and all the generous support I got that allowed me to be here today reduces me to a gale of tears, even as the ceremony concludes and I make my way to my bike. As if my chance meeting with Amy earlier isn't amazing enough, just as we're riding out from Bear Mountain State Park, stalled by bike gridlock, another rider spots me out of the crowd. "You're Alfonso!" calls a guy to my right. It's Scott Steffens, a San Francisco-based rider who I haven't met previously either, but -- like Amy -- with whom I exchanged e-mails months back in an effort to meet other riders in advance. I childishly give him a big hug out of sheer excitement and we chat a while, musing at the scores of riders heading to the woods at the side of the road for an early bathroom break. The ride out from Bear Mountain is expectedly slow, even reminiscent of the Five-Boro tour I did in New York City last May. But there's not much monotony here, despite the fact that the same song (a glorious tune by one of my uncontested favorite musicians, Lisa Gerrard, though sadly remixed with house beats) blares over the PA again and again. Much of the stop-and-go thing prevails until we're about 10 miles from the start of the course due to road construction activity all over the Orange County backroads we've traversed. Just as the legs started to really get warmed up from uninterrupted riding, we reach the first pit stop of the day. Despite mild temptation to keep rolling, I pull into the pit stop to get a first look at all the wonderful things I've heard about the ride pits. Over the years, pit stops had evolved to more than just stops where you can stretch your legs and replenish water bottle supply. They're now full-on service centers with a broad array of snacks, bike tech support, medical staff and a whole host of crew members who dress and decorate around a playful theme -- a different one each day and each stop. Pit One crew dons a luau theme today and, as much as I want to stick around and yak with riders and crew here, my legs feel the need to press on. Pit Two comes to view about 15 miles down the route -- the Western Corral crew. The stop is situated in a dirt parking lot of sorts, riddled with sand, rocks and pebbles -- murder on cycling shoe cleats, let alone my ankles which are constantly shifting to compensate for the lunar terrain. Can't stay here long either. I heed the advice given during the safety video to hydrate with more than just water, down some Gatorade and pretzels to replenish sodium supply, fill up the water bottles and go -- but not without yakking and shooting pictures as usual. As far as I can tell, we're travelling along mostly wooded back roads with generaly good pavement and some gorgeous countryside views. I make a conscious effort to make note of the roads we travel, but try as I might, it's impossible to make any sense of where we are for the lack of route cards providing detailed roadside directions, a move the event producers made in an effort to cut some costs, yet I strongly protest in the vein of general rider safety. This sentiment is heightened by the fact that I got lost for a short while in the afternoon, having missed a turn and ridden an extra three miles or so -- no big deal to me, but I would worry for some of the less experienced and weary riders. Pit Four is a great treat. Situated in the Yale (Gilder) Boathouse, many of us choose to take a quick splash in the cool waters of the Housatonic River. I don't care one bit about my soaked bike shorts, which I know will dry out in the hot sun before I even roll into today's finish line. Outside the boat house, I witness one of very few incidents on the ride -- a rider making his way into the pitstop gets smacked by -- of all things -- an opening Porta-Potty door. Neither rider nor Porta-Potty occupant are injured, no harm done to the rider's bike; but, heck, that's gotta be an AIDSRide first. The last time I set foot in New Haven, about 10 years ago for a college conference, I recall the not-so-pleasant experience of being stopped by curfew patrol downtown while on a night stroll. Today, as I roll into camp at around 3:30 PM, the 250th rider in, I'm welcomed with open arms by locals, riders and crew alike to the festive atmosphere of our campsite within the Yale campus. The camp premises are an impressive sight. Beyond the bike parking lot, there are tents for medical services, chiropractic care and massage therapy, general camp services, even media relations. On the other side of the campus, a huge dining tent flanked by mobile kitchens. Across the campus road from the dining hall, our tent city sprawled on the baseball fields is already taking shape. I make my way to the far end of the tent city to retrieve my gear from piles upon piles of other bags and head out to my tent section, where I meet David Bornstein, my tent mate, who's already finished propping up our tent and even had a camp chair at the front of the tent. David, a NYC-based rider, instantly gives me a terrific vibe (David, if you're reading this -- it's all true, heh heh) and a friendly welcome, and introduces me to his friends, Joe and Patty, who'll be tenting next to us in C12 for the next three nights. After sorting out all my gear and hitting the mobile showers up the hill, I don't catch up with the trio again until nightfall, just before bed -- er, sleeping bag -- time. The mobile showers are a trip. They're essentially truck trailers with plumbing and a seemingly endless supply of hot water. Each of five (?) trailers in the shower area are divided into mens and womens sections, each section having some 10 curtained shower stalls and a common dressing area with a bench. Outside the trailers, there are sinks and make-shift mirrors where all could brush their teeth, shave and pretty up. After the showers, I hit the dinner tent before the evening rush and decide to go back out to bike parking to assist the crew as I had originally planned to do in the mornings. As riders continued to arrive at camp, three large Ryder trucks arrive, shuttling a fleet of bikes for all the riders that -- for one reason or other -- were not able to complete the day's journey. I basically pick up crew duty by helping unload these trucks and park the bikes in their respective spots. It's 7:30 PM and I just parked the last "sagged" bike off the sweep trucks, and the last rider on the road arrives at camp to much fanfare, followed by the cavalcade of the motorcycle roadside support and traffic crew team. The entertainment portion of the evening in the dining tent has begun, spotlighted by an AIDS retrospective presentation by a member of the Spokebusters team and a moving appreciation address by an executive member of Fenway Community Health, one of the Ride's beneficiaries. Tonight's entertainment continues with a screening of Longtime Companion. I decide to skip the movie in lieu of gathering my last thoughts for the evening here inside the historic Yale Bowl, a Colosseum-esque football field with weathered concrete and deteriorating, blue wooden benches. My impressions so far? Both ride and camp are everything I expected -- though noticeably different in flavor from the California AIDSRide scene. The very thing I expected and discovered first-hand today is the community atmosphere all around me that breeds the same kind of exhilaration I got when I started riding my bike again. Riding allowed me to rediscover my body's potential; this journey is teaching me to re-assert the best my human spirit and heart can offer. The sun has just set beautifully in New Haven. The evening air has cooled considerably. My legs don't ache much considering a fairly aggressive ride on our first day. I look forward to another great day of riding tomorrow.
Introduction | The Event | The Cause | Meet the Rider | Get Involved | The Sponsors News & Photos | Rider Goods | Message Board © Copyright 2001-2003 Eshutter Creative LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. "AIDSRide" is a registered trademark of Pallotta TeamWorks.