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magidFog rolled in overnight. I was surprised: Israel in the summer is always dry, in my experience, and fog, while not rain, is much more moisture than I expected. Of course, my bike clothes didn't dry out. I strapped them to the outside of my suitcase, grabbed other bike clothes, and headed down to breakfast, leaving my suitcase on the way, and the day bag after breakfast (so I could wear regular shoes during breakfast).
After the previous day's flat tires (not mine, but someone had three, and it seemed like there were a lot in general), I made sure to check tire pressure, which cut into my stretching time.
We carried our bikes from the fenced-in (basketball?) court down awkward-in-bike-shoes stone steps, and gathered, ready to leave. And waited. And waited. And waited. It was frustrating, especially because I really wanted to take advantage of the cool of the morning, fog and all. I knew it would be a lot harder for me later, with the sun burning down. But we stood, waiting.
Finally, we got the word we could go. Later, I heard that we'd been delayed for security reasons, that there'd been a suicide bomber with four tons of explosives in a truck trying to come into Israel proper from Gaza. Word was not only had he not come in, but he'd blown up while still in Gaza (this is completely unconfirmed).
On security: at the previous night's briefing, we were told what to do in case of incoming rockets. A siren would sound, and we'd have 15 seconds to react. If we were inside, we should go to a designated room. If we were outside near shelter, get inside. And if we were too far away to get inside, lie face down with hands crossed behind our heads (though thinking about it later, I realized that we'd have our bike helmets on, and that would give at least as much protection as hands...). We also had choices. The first was whether or not to sleep in Ashkelon, because rockets had been known to make it to the city. To the best of my knowledge, we all stayed. The second was whether to visit Sderot, a town that has been subjected to rockets for the last couple of years. Those who wished to go would be showing support for the residents who have stayed, and we'd have a little presentation in a school, giving bikes for local kids. Most of the riders decided to go to Sderot.
As before, the police stopped traffic so we could go by en masse at the beginning of the day.
Special surprise when we arrived: students from the Reidman International College for Complementary Medicine had set up a number of tables near some of the two-storied buildings we were being housed in, and everyone could queue up for a complimentary massage. It was nice, though strange: a very different style of massage than I've had before (more pushing things back and forth, more digging into the shoulder blades, and so on), plus I was still grubby from the day's ride. Not that I would pass up the chance because of that!
Once the luggage arrived, I went up to the room, found out who this evening's roommate would be. The room was very much not a hotel, with three extremely narrow beds, and the shower in the bathroom delineated by the curtain only (no actual stall, just a drain in the floor, and try not to soak the whole place).
Dinner was in the kibbutz dining hall, and had fewer options than the hotels. I didn't care, because it was good, and I got to have some excellent chicken schnitzel (I don't think I'd properly appreciated schnitzel before). The briefing was upstairs from some little hang-out place, going over the options for the next day's ride, reminders about safety and good riding habits, and ending with counting the omer.
It was Lag B'Omer, and there was a bonfire arranged for us, on a hillside at the edge of the kibbutz (still within the perimeter fence), above where the kibbutz kids had their own bonfire. Someone told us about the bonfires at Meron and other places in the north, and how the air quality plummets around Lag B'Omer with so many of them. Here in the south, it's not as much of a problem (lower population density, plus not a pilgrimage site in sight). The fire was pleasant, but what was really nice was leaning back and seeing all the stars, so many more visible than at home, because there's less light pollution. And there was guitar and percussion music, and singing, and silly skits.
I couldn't stay up late, and needed to get ready for the morning, so I picked my way down the hill and back to the room, hearing odd cries that turned out to be peacocks from their little zoo. One plus was that as I changed and packed refilled water and such, I got to hear Marv (the oldest rider this year) playing his harmonica as he sat outside his room. My roommate returned (Anna, rather than last night's Ana), which meant we could figure out how to wake up in time the next morning (no hotel wake-up calls; luckily, she had technology, so her cell was set to wake us). And then it was time to collapse into bed.
After the previous day's flat tires (not mine, but someone had three, and it seemed like there were a lot in general), I made sure to check tire pressure, which cut into my stretching time.
We carried our bikes from the fenced-in (basketball?) court down awkward-in-bike-shoes stone steps, and gathered, ready to leave. And waited. And waited. And waited. It was frustrating, especially because I really wanted to take advantage of the cool of the morning, fog and all. I knew it would be a lot harder for me later, with the sun burning down. But we stood, waiting.
Finally, we got the word we could go. Later, I heard that we'd been delayed for security reasons, that there'd been a suicide bomber with four tons of explosives in a truck trying to come into Israel proper from Gaza. Word was not only had he not come in, but he'd blown up while still in Gaza (this is completely unconfirmed).
On security: at the previous night's briefing, we were told what to do in case of incoming rockets. A siren would sound, and we'd have 15 seconds to react. If we were inside, we should go to a designated room. If we were outside near shelter, get inside. And if we were too far away to get inside, lie face down with hands crossed behind our heads (though thinking about it later, I realized that we'd have our bike helmets on, and that would give at least as much protection as hands...). We also had choices. The first was whether or not to sleep in Ashkelon, because rockets had been known to make it to the city. To the best of my knowledge, we all stayed. The second was whether to visit Sderot, a town that has been subjected to rockets for the last couple of years. Those who wished to go would be showing support for the residents who have stayed, and we'd have a little presentation in a school, giving bikes for local kids. Most of the riders decided to go to Sderot.
As before, the police stopped traffic so we could go by en masse at the beginning of the day.
- through two traffic circles (one with a fish :-), then straight onto Hatayasim St.
- left onto Ben Gurion Blvd.
- right onto Hahistadrut St.
- right onto Shapira St.
Somewhere in the tangle of getting out of the city (a literal tangle at times, unfortunately: going up a long hill as a group at speeds that are too slow for my natural pace is not good, and a number of people ended up falling), I passed a bus stop with some older Ethiopians. I called out "tenastelayn," which they called back, and I rather think they were surprised to be greeted so by a foreigner (ferenj; I still wonder whether Ferengi come from this...). - left onto Eliezer Ben Yehuda St.
- left onto Bar Lev Blvd.
- right towards Zikim and the Ashkelon Power Plant.
- left to road 3411.
- right towards Gush Katif.
- left at Mordechai Junction to Sderot and Be'er Sheva (Rte. 34).
I noticed my front tire was just about flat when I got to the top of one of the hills (no wonder it felt so much more difficult!). I stopped, and it wasn't long until Geo, the Thai mechanic, came along and replaced it. He was fast, but it still took time, and I didn't realize how close we were to the rest stop. Since I hadn't been at the front of the pack to start with, by the time I got to the rest stop, it was time to leave. I barely had time to grab some food and water before we headed out again. - left into Nir Am, with a rest stop near the kibbutz entrance.
Somewhere in here was the side trip to Sderot, which was not on the cue sheet. I'm not sure what roads we took, though they were to the left off the route we were on. As we headed into town, we passed a bunch of school playgrounds, and the kids all called to us, excited to see so many riders. A couple saw Blake's suitcase (he had it set up as a trailer, and he dragged it the whole way), and were very amused. We got to the designated school, with more fascinated kids, and were ushered into the cushy school stadium (not only padded seats, quite nice compared to a saddle, but air conditioned! Not to arctic levels, but it was pleasant while it lasted.) where the deputy mayor welcomed us to Sderot. Nigel (Hazon's director, also the one riding a recumbent, with flags flying) said how happy we were to visit, and other nice words (I was pleased to be following all the Hebrew without needing the translation). We presented the bikes (I still have no idea how many, nor how the recipients are chosen), trooped up on stage for a group photo, then soon after retrieved our bikes and headed out again, warned not to stop or take photos (I think because of time constraints, but I'm not sure). - right onto Rte. 232 towards Eshkol and Gush Katif.
- left at Sa'ad Junction onto Rte. 25 and immediately right back onto Rte. 232 S towards Gush Katif and the Rafiah Crossing (this was the leg with the perfect rolling hills, just the right height for me to get into a rhythm, with enough speed to make it partway up the next hill as I barreled down the current one (plus straight so I lost no energy to braking).).
- rest stop at Reim Park (dappled shade from the eucalyptus trees, also where there were the watermelon adventures).
- back onto Rte. 232, heading towards Gush Katif, at some point crossing Bsor Wadi.
- lunch at the Paz gas station on the right.
This was about 40 miles in. According to the original cue sheet, this was to have been just another rest stop, with lunch at 60 miles, but with the delays of the morning, lunch was here. I was glad; I don't know that I would've made it to lunch had it not switched. (Plus, as it turned out, this was a much better place to have a meal, with shade and tables and bathrooms and such.)
After lunch, the Chalutzim took off: their route was down to Nizzana, by the Egyptian border, and staying there before rejoining the rest of us the next day.
And after lunch, I started having a harder time with the sun. We were south enough now that we were in more desert areas, the heat seemingly intensified because there was much less vegetation around. - left onto Rte. 222 towards Ze'elim and Mitzpeh Ramon.
- straight through Ze'elim Junction (pit stop near the kibbutz).
- rest stop at the side of the road, under some scrubby little trees.
I'd been having a hard time with the sun, feeling more and more like a slowly-burning piece of toast, already crispy at the edges. I really wanted to make it to this rest stop, knowing it would mean I'd ridden more than the previous day's metric century, even though the last part was all slog, just focusing on the little bit of road ahead of me (I wonder how much easier it would have been had I happened to have a conversational partner for that part.). I kept going, telling myself I could stop at the rest stop. Yes, I could've stopped any time to get on the bus, but I'm very goal focused... and making it to the rest stop meant I'd have some idea of how far I'd gone. (I didn't bring an odometer, and I found it impossible to estimate distances.). So I made it to the stop, and said I was done for the day. Of course, as I rehydrated and stood in the shade, I started feeling better, but I reminded myself of how miserable I'd been in the sun, how we'd been told to know our own limits, and how I didn't want to push myself so hard that I'd be useless the next day (and there were other riders on the bus, which helped me feel better about it). So I got on the bus for the last stretch (about 8 miles, if the cue sheet is accurate). This meant that I got to look at the Bedouin camp (Town? It seemed more permanent than "camp" implies.) we passed, and the camels (including a baby with its mother), which I totally would have missed had I been riding, slogging on in the sunshine. - left at Mashabim junction.
- right into Kibbutz Mashabei Sadeh.
Special surprise when we arrived: students from the Reidman International College for Complementary Medicine had set up a number of tables near some of the two-storied buildings we were being housed in, and everyone could queue up for a complimentary massage. It was nice, though strange: a very different style of massage than I've had before (more pushing things back and forth, more digging into the shoulder blades, and so on), plus I was still grubby from the day's ride. Not that I would pass up the chance because of that!
Once the luggage arrived, I went up to the room, found out who this evening's roommate would be. The room was very much not a hotel, with three extremely narrow beds, and the shower in the bathroom delineated by the curtain only (no actual stall, just a drain in the floor, and try not to soak the whole place).
Dinner was in the kibbutz dining hall, and had fewer options than the hotels. I didn't care, because it was good, and I got to have some excellent chicken schnitzel (I don't think I'd properly appreciated schnitzel before). The briefing was upstairs from some little hang-out place, going over the options for the next day's ride, reminders about safety and good riding habits, and ending with counting the omer.
It was Lag B'Omer, and there was a bonfire arranged for us, on a hillside at the edge of the kibbutz (still within the perimeter fence), above where the kibbutz kids had their own bonfire. Someone told us about the bonfires at Meron and other places in the north, and how the air quality plummets around Lag B'Omer with so many of them. Here in the south, it's not as much of a problem (lower population density, plus not a pilgrimage site in sight). The fire was pleasant, but what was really nice was leaning back and seeing all the stars, so many more visible than at home, because there's less light pollution. And there was guitar and percussion music, and singing, and silly skits.
I couldn't stay up late, and needed to get ready for the morning, so I picked my way down the hill and back to the room, hearing odd cries that turned out to be peacocks from their little zoo. One plus was that as I changed and packed refilled water and such, I got to hear Marv (the oldest rider this year) playing his harmonica as he sat outside his room. My roommate returned (Anna, rather than last night's Ana), which meant we could figure out how to wake up in time the next morning (no hotel wake-up calls; luckily, she had technology, so her cell was set to wake us). And then it was time to collapse into bed.