Hop Walloped
Wednesday night ride was fun. We got roughly 1 - 2 inches of fluffy white snow that day, so everyone was real excited to get out and hit the trails that night. So excited they all left as I was rolling into the parking lot. Luckily (or not really) Marcus was late as well. We through on our stuff and started the chase. With fresh snow on the ground, it wasn't hard to follow.
So Mark and I are hauling ass in their tracks. No time to get cold. No time to really do anything other than pedal and pedal fast. I start to notice, but not comprehend, my bike (or me) is handling very poorly. I can't get any traction in the rear and the front keeps drifting on me. On the railroad bridge, near the end, Mark's front completely washes out form under him. There was a solid sheet of ice under the snow on the bridge. I chalked it up to being 200 ft in the air. The open sun during the day and open space below the bridge must have frozen the old snow there. We keep on.
In the woods again the handling gets worse. I start to think it's the new setup. The longer stem and swept-back bars are throwing me off. Or maybe I just haven't ridden on trails in a while. I mention something to Marcus. He's having problems too. That's when we figure out the ice on the bridge under the snow is everywhere. Unlike the bridge, which was a solid smooth sheet, the ice on the trail is lumpy and crunchy. The new snow covered it just enough to disguise it, but not enough to provide traction. You could be sailing along, slip and regain traction in an instant. If your weight was one way, you lost it on the slip. If your weight was another, you lost it on the regain. It was menacing and fun. Challenges make you better.
We caught the group. They were coming up a climb that was nearly unridable. Mark decided to go down and come back up. I stayed with the group. From that point the trails were hit or miss. If it had been ridden in the previous snow, it was likely to be chunky ice. If it faced south, it was probably clear.
We climbed to the school, did some ice burnouts in the parking lot, then headed down the yellow trail to Mark D'huez. At the bottom of the yellow trail there were some kids parked in a car with the windows all steamy. Can't imagine what they were thinking when all these bike lights come streaming out of the woods.
With the conditions the way they were, we decided to do the old Gates of Hell road climb to the top, then bomb down the treacherous D'huez. The Gates of Hell were named after a driveway with two large brick pillars at the top or bottom. It's been so long, I can't remember which. The story goes there used to be quite a house at the top. One day the owner went nuts, killed his family, buried them somewhere on the property, then killed himself. They never found the bodies. They raised the house and left it that way for some time. Weirdos would go up there for seances. We just climbed the driveway to access more trails on the other side of the hill. Recently some developer bought the land and has started building McMansions up there. It's ridiculous. The place is creepy.
Anyway, we tried the road/driveway. It was a solid sheet of ice. Nearly everyone ended up flat on their backs. It was quite the sight to see. We walked up the edge instead. At the top, we headed into the woods and started the decent. Ben led it out. It was nice. He created some ruts I could track through, then he lost it. I got around and put my head down. It was like a dance, but I wasn't leading. The trail led me. It pushed, pulled and slid in various ways. I had to be careful and pay attention to its lead or end up on my ass. I started to gap the group. Sometimes the center of the trail was good other times it wasn't. You could ride the edges in some places, others not. I became completely focused on not putting my feet down - leave only tire tracks. Leave everyone bewildered.
I got caught up in myself, made some mistakes and went down. Buddy and Mark were on me in seconds. I got back up, threw my leg over and hammered off. The trail had a series of switchbacks at this point. For some reason I was riding the switchbacks well in the snowy ice and pulled away again. I came to a climb I new was unmakable, so I got off and ran. (March is intensity month. Run bitch run!). The lights of the group were in the distance now. I could barely even hear them. A herd of deer rain across the trail in front of me. Must have been 10 or so. The last guy was little - nearly flipping himself as he frantically bounded through the uneven terrain. I turned another switchback and could see 10 pairs of eyes staring back at me at the end of the trail. The eyes shook and moved as the deer adjusted their heads to hear what the blinding light approaching them was all about. I made another turn and the deer were gone. A log-over without a dab and another hill to run (actually used some toe kicks (a mountaineering technique) to get up it's icy slope) . I was nearly home free. The last off-camber section gave me problems. I couldn't get traction to save my life. I was tired. My brain had slowly stopped processing. Around another switchback and I lost the trail. I couldn't figure out where to go. Everything covered in snow looked like a trail. The group was approaching. I lost my gap, my lead, my zone. Ben pointed out the trail and we finished it off together.
Damn this is long. I've got to get to work.
With all the falling and walking, everyone was getting wet and cold. Fortunately for me, my Lake winter shoes do an excellent job of keeping my feet dry and warm. It was decided we'd do the road climbs back to the bar. This was the same route we took a few weeks back. Ride down 322 a little ways, go backwards over the covered bridge to Skelp level, then up. After the covered bridge there's a little climb to warm you up. On Skelp there's a huge climb to win and get bragging rights.
I let the hammerheads go on the first. I wasn't interested in any amateur glory. We turned onto Skelp and pooled together at the bottom. Everyone got quiet and really close to one another. The pace slowed a little. The hill was looming in front of us. Our lights weren't bright enough to see it clearly, but you could tell by the lights on the houses along the sides and at the top it was long and steep. Still together and still slow, we waited for the attack. I'm not sure who it was, but someone jumped and the group exploded. A few dropped back, a few pulled ahead and others stayed together. Off the front was Henderson spinning wildly on his SS. Mark was close behind on his. Ryan surged by me with gears. I stayed close to Ben, Buddy and Rob. At that point I wasn't sure how much I had, then Ben dropped off, Buddy and Rob. Suddenly I was close to Mark. He was pushing Dave Matunis up. Henderson was still out front. Ryan dropped and Mark jumped ahead of Dave. Henderson got the top. Mark shortly behind. It was Dave then me. Over the top I watched Mark move up and stick Henderson's wheel. Mark was smart letting Henderson do the work while he recovered for the finish. My head was spinning and my breath wheezing. I knew I had to bridge up and catch that draft. I powered past Dave and caught Mark's wheel. Henderson pulled off tired of all the work. I stuck Mark's wheel and planted my light in the center of his back so he couldn't tell how close I was. We started up the last rise. I waited catching glimpses off to the side to measure how far we were from the top. I had to wait till I knew I could pull out and hold the sprint to the top (if you're sprinting Marcus, you better be damn sure all the cards are in your hand). I picked my spot and went for it. I completely caught him by surprise or just out gunned him (my guess is the first).
I got over the top and started the bomb to the bottom. My face was freezing. I could feel the sensitive areas on my cheeks from the Adirondack trip burning. Snot and breath were icing up in my beard. I couldn't let up if I wanted the downhill win, but it was over before it even started. Mark came flying by. More weight, less friction, whatever the physics, he rolled by and got the downhill win. Henderson caught up and now it was a three way sprint to the bar. We made the last turn and Henderson dropped off. I guess winning the initial climb (the most important) killed him. Mark was too far ahead and won it to the bridge. My head was spinning and I felt like puking. It was the hardest I'd gone in a while. It was an epic fight or at least I made it out that way. Henderson with the big dog win, Mark the overall and me with a little sneaky move in the middle. We changed, headed to the bar and drank ourselves silly.
This weekend is shaping up nicely. I've got a large group century planned for Saturday. People from all over are coming. I'm hoping the size doesn't become a problem, cause I don't know where we're going. If you're one of those involved, bring spare tubes and a sense of humor. Lots of patience and a serious appreciation for riding bikes is all that's asked.
-b
So Mark and I are hauling ass in their tracks. No time to get cold. No time to really do anything other than pedal and pedal fast. I start to notice, but not comprehend, my bike (or me) is handling very poorly. I can't get any traction in the rear and the front keeps drifting on me. On the railroad bridge, near the end, Mark's front completely washes out form under him. There was a solid sheet of ice under the snow on the bridge. I chalked it up to being 200 ft in the air. The open sun during the day and open space below the bridge must have frozen the old snow there. We keep on.
In the woods again the handling gets worse. I start to think it's the new setup. The longer stem and swept-back bars are throwing me off. Or maybe I just haven't ridden on trails in a while. I mention something to Marcus. He's having problems too. That's when we figure out the ice on the bridge under the snow is everywhere. Unlike the bridge, which was a solid smooth sheet, the ice on the trail is lumpy and crunchy. The new snow covered it just enough to disguise it, but not enough to provide traction. You could be sailing along, slip and regain traction in an instant. If your weight was one way, you lost it on the slip. If your weight was another, you lost it on the regain. It was menacing and fun. Challenges make you better.
We caught the group. They were coming up a climb that was nearly unridable. Mark decided to go down and come back up. I stayed with the group. From that point the trails were hit or miss. If it had been ridden in the previous snow, it was likely to be chunky ice. If it faced south, it was probably clear.
We climbed to the school, did some ice burnouts in the parking lot, then headed down the yellow trail to Mark D'huez. At the bottom of the yellow trail there were some kids parked in a car with the windows all steamy. Can't imagine what they were thinking when all these bike lights come streaming out of the woods.
With the conditions the way they were, we decided to do the old Gates of Hell road climb to the top, then bomb down the treacherous D'huez. The Gates of Hell were named after a driveway with two large brick pillars at the top or bottom. It's been so long, I can't remember which. The story goes there used to be quite a house at the top. One day the owner went nuts, killed his family, buried them somewhere on the property, then killed himself. They never found the bodies. They raised the house and left it that way for some time. Weirdos would go up there for seances. We just climbed the driveway to access more trails on the other side of the hill. Recently some developer bought the land and has started building McMansions up there. It's ridiculous. The place is creepy.
Anyway, we tried the road/driveway. It was a solid sheet of ice. Nearly everyone ended up flat on their backs. It was quite the sight to see. We walked up the edge instead. At the top, we headed into the woods and started the decent. Ben led it out. It was nice. He created some ruts I could track through, then he lost it. I got around and put my head down. It was like a dance, but I wasn't leading. The trail led me. It pushed, pulled and slid in various ways. I had to be careful and pay attention to its lead or end up on my ass. I started to gap the group. Sometimes the center of the trail was good other times it wasn't. You could ride the edges in some places, others not. I became completely focused on not putting my feet down - leave only tire tracks. Leave everyone bewildered.
I got caught up in myself, made some mistakes and went down. Buddy and Mark were on me in seconds. I got back up, threw my leg over and hammered off. The trail had a series of switchbacks at this point. For some reason I was riding the switchbacks well in the snowy ice and pulled away again. I came to a climb I new was unmakable, so I got off and ran. (March is intensity month. Run bitch run!). The lights of the group were in the distance now. I could barely even hear them. A herd of deer rain across the trail in front of me. Must have been 10 or so. The last guy was little - nearly flipping himself as he frantically bounded through the uneven terrain. I turned another switchback and could see 10 pairs of eyes staring back at me at the end of the trail. The eyes shook and moved as the deer adjusted their heads to hear what the blinding light approaching them was all about. I made another turn and the deer were gone. A log-over without a dab and another hill to run (actually used some toe kicks (a mountaineering technique) to get up it's icy slope) . I was nearly home free. The last off-camber section gave me problems. I couldn't get traction to save my life. I was tired. My brain had slowly stopped processing. Around another switchback and I lost the trail. I couldn't figure out where to go. Everything covered in snow looked like a trail. The group was approaching. I lost my gap, my lead, my zone. Ben pointed out the trail and we finished it off together.
Damn this is long. I've got to get to work.
With all the falling and walking, everyone was getting wet and cold. Fortunately for me, my Lake winter shoes do an excellent job of keeping my feet dry and warm. It was decided we'd do the road climbs back to the bar. This was the same route we took a few weeks back. Ride down 322 a little ways, go backwards over the covered bridge to Skelp level, then up. After the covered bridge there's a little climb to warm you up. On Skelp there's a huge climb to win and get bragging rights.
I let the hammerheads go on the first. I wasn't interested in any amateur glory. We turned onto Skelp and pooled together at the bottom. Everyone got quiet and really close to one another. The pace slowed a little. The hill was looming in front of us. Our lights weren't bright enough to see it clearly, but you could tell by the lights on the houses along the sides and at the top it was long and steep. Still together and still slow, we waited for the attack. I'm not sure who it was, but someone jumped and the group exploded. A few dropped back, a few pulled ahead and others stayed together. Off the front was Henderson spinning wildly on his SS. Mark was close behind on his. Ryan surged by me with gears. I stayed close to Ben, Buddy and Rob. At that point I wasn't sure how much I had, then Ben dropped off, Buddy and Rob. Suddenly I was close to Mark. He was pushing Dave Matunis up. Henderson was still out front. Ryan dropped and Mark jumped ahead of Dave. Henderson got the top. Mark shortly behind. It was Dave then me. Over the top I watched Mark move up and stick Henderson's wheel. Mark was smart letting Henderson do the work while he recovered for the finish. My head was spinning and my breath wheezing. I knew I had to bridge up and catch that draft. I powered past Dave and caught Mark's wheel. Henderson pulled off tired of all the work. I stuck Mark's wheel and planted my light in the center of his back so he couldn't tell how close I was. We started up the last rise. I waited catching glimpses off to the side to measure how far we were from the top. I had to wait till I knew I could pull out and hold the sprint to the top (if you're sprinting Marcus, you better be damn sure all the cards are in your hand). I picked my spot and went for it. I completely caught him by surprise or just out gunned him (my guess is the first).
I got over the top and started the bomb to the bottom. My face was freezing. I could feel the sensitive areas on my cheeks from the Adirondack trip burning. Snot and breath were icing up in my beard. I couldn't let up if I wanted the downhill win, but it was over before it even started. Mark came flying by. More weight, less friction, whatever the physics, he rolled by and got the downhill win. Henderson caught up and now it was a three way sprint to the bar. We made the last turn and Henderson dropped off. I guess winning the initial climb (the most important) killed him. Mark was too far ahead and won it to the bridge. My head was spinning and I felt like puking. It was the hardest I'd gone in a while. It was an epic fight or at least I made it out that way. Henderson with the big dog win, Mark the overall and me with a little sneaky move in the middle. We changed, headed to the bar and drank ourselves silly.
This weekend is shaping up nicely. I've got a large group century planned for Saturday. People from all over are coming. I'm hoping the size doesn't become a problem, cause I don't know where we're going. If you're one of those involved, bring spare tubes and a sense of humor. Lots of patience and a serious appreciation for riding bikes is all that's asked.
-b
posted by JenBob at
6:53 AM
2 Comments:
that was awesome.
respect.
fn
Wow Bob your such a supurb cyclist...I was happy with the amature glory ;) Sorry I missed today
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