As a primer, the Avita Water Black Bear Race started as a canoe marathon down the Au Sable River from Grayling to Oscoda, Michigan. The canoe racers start at 9 p.m. on Saturday and paddle all night, arriving at Oscoda sometime after noon on Sunday.

In conjunction with that, a bicycle race was also instituted; but the canoes are what's important in most locals' minds. The bikes start at 8 a.m. on Sunday and do 100 miles, ending within sight of the bridge where the canoes finish. Who will get there first; the canoes with a big head start or the bikes with their higher speeds? Either way, it's usually pretty close.

This year’s race started Saturday, July 24 for the canoes, and on the 25th for the bikes. Due to some last-minute road work, we had one detour that added several miles to our route. A conspiracy by canoists? Perhaps...

The LeMans start entailed a 1-block run to our parked bikes. Recumbents weren't a majority by any means, but they were definitely visible! I was in the middle of the pack as we got to our bikes. It took me a minute to get rolling because of all the congestion, but I guess that's to be expected.

Once rolling, I quickly passed lots of bikes and ended up in a large 20-bike pack by the top of the I-75 overpass on our way out of town. Roads were somewhat rough to very rough. At a few points, the pack took the whole road because there wasn't enough good pavement in our lane alone. I saw the pack ahead that was chasing Frank Geyer and tried to bridge it, but it just wasn't going to happen.

About then Dave Johnson blazed by in the Great White streamliner, with a muffled, “Hi John!," and quickly disappeared over the next hill. The large group gradually reeled me back in and I hung near the back. My pulse at the back ran from 105 to 135, so it really was the next best thing to resting while we rolled along at 24-ish mph.

We climbed several good-sized hills, and I managed to keep the pack's gap relatively small each time. When we hit the first big hill, I was determined to stay with the pack, but that's where the doofus in front of me dumped himself. Someone wobbled and he flipped himself into a pile on the road trying to stop--right in front of me. I had to come to a dead stop on a major climb, in my 58/17 gear. After that, I spent the next several miles chasing.

There were quite a few rollers, and I made up most of my ground as the pack slowed for each climb and I didn't. I was in hot pursuit as we rode onto the bypass route. At the next turn I caught them, and they knew they were dead meat. It was a textbook blowout as I flew past and gave them a tail waggle. By the time I crested the next hill, they were little dots in the mirror. I never saw them again.

(See "HPVs vs Canoes", next page)

FAREWELL, BILL MURPHY, CONT'D
Mike Mowett of St. Clair Shores, who was at the Kenosha races, wrote the following:

This is a great loss for the HPV community. Bill was our friend, one of the gentlest and kindest persons I've met in the past 15 years of HPV racing.

At Kenosha, I was pedaling slowly around the in-field circle as Bill passed by on his first lap. I shouted, "Go Bill," as he passed. There wasn't anyone else down there at that end of the track yet. The temperature was mild (the sun didn't warm things up till after Bill passed) and it was a beautiful morning.

On his second lap, I was distracted with talking with someone. On his third lap, as he passed and headed for the finish line. I shouted, "Bill, you got the record!".

Looking back over the years I've seen Bill race, he always looked the same on his bike right up to the end. He didn't show any strain as he passed by just 75 yards or so till the finish. He was pedalling with his head tucked down and forward a bit, just below his windshield. He looked the same as on the previous laps. Bill was just going for his best. He was at his best, right up to the end, when suddenly catastrophically, God decided it was time for him to go racing full-speed towards heaven, just as he finished his kilo race as the new world record holder -- at full-speed.

Everyone else's comments about Bill are so true -- his quiet nature; he never raised his voice. Sometimes when you would talk to him, you would find yourself slowing down, becoming much calmer, even if you were excited or nervous about getting ready for a race. Bill had that effect on you. He would smile and listen to you, about any problems you were having with your bike.

He had a quick smile, a warm personality, and a good heart. He wasn't out to beat anyone, he was just there to be among us, who were his closest friends, as someone pointed out.

Bill looked well and healthy that morning. He looked over my bike, and as the race co-organizer, told someone that I should be in the super street category. That was my last face to face contact with Bill. In honor of him, I decided to continue to race in super street, even though I was feeling too wobbly to ride with my stretchy Aero-Edge fairing Saturday on the velodrome. And I wound up riding a personal best for average speed on Sunday and didn't have any handling problems. So Bill, maybe I owe you some thanks.

Sincerely,
Mike Mowett