Well, it was certainly worth a try, but it’s not worth trying again
On the positive side, riding in the so-called “Worst Day of the Year Ride” (“worst day”, Oregon-style, means that it rained and snowed very early in the morning, but by the time I’d reached the starting point the rain was over with and by the time I returned to NW Portland the clouds had evaporated and it was a warm sunny day) got me over the river and into the wilds of Washington County, plus got me to actually ride up (and [quickly] down) Tualatin Mountain a couple of times.
On the negative side, there are approximately 70,000 stop signs on the east side loop of this ride, and approximately 70,000 other bicycle riders (none of which happened to be riding Xtracycled bicycles) all jostling for room on the streets and in the more chaotic than a bazaar controls.
Despite being passed by everyone (and by everyone I mean everyone, from the usual lot of bespandexed gentlemen on their carbon-fiber and titanium bicycles to every fixed-gear rider in the tri-state area and down to aged grandparents on their omafeits – I didn’t get passed by any recumbents, but I attribute that to their rarity instead of any great climbing skill on my part) on the climbs up to the top of Tualatin Mountain, it was quite pleasant to run out and back into the wilds of Washington County (I was thinking of doing that loop twice, but I was worried that it would take too much time and I’d miss the (much more crowded and stop/start) East Portland loop.) The swarms of bicyclists in town, and the bestopsigned route, well, not so good, and it was a good reminder why I tend to do most of my urban riding along major thoroughfares (or trails, or anywhere where I don’t need to do start-stop traffic on my way out to the country where the major threat to my life is sub-micron wide shoulders right next to truck-devouring runoff ditches.
But it was worth trying, just so I could see if paying the big bucks for an organized Event! was worth it. It’s not, at least not for me. If I spent this sort of money for a hotel room, I could ferry myself out to Newburg or Forest Grove, overnight, ride a brevet or permanent, and get the riding done without the loudspeakers, bands, bike corrals, and rudderless chaos at the start/finish of the loop. Let other people have the bicycling community; I’ll stick with the contemplative solitude of the road.
But I’m going to have to find time to do more ascents (and – wheee! – 40mph descents) of Tualatin Mountain. With some practice, I might be able to increase my climbing speed from that of a banana slug to that of a three-toed sloth.