View from the top

The world looks very different from the top of the hill, or, Part II of the Estes Park ride story.

We hung out at the top of the hill for 15 or 20 minutes, reveling in the view, chatting with other cyclists passing through. Coming up the hill immediately behind me were two guys; one a fairly gnarly older guy with beef jerky legs, who seemed to barely be breathing hard. Turns out he’d be riding this area, and this hill, for 30 years. Makes a difference! There were also other riders coming up the road from Estes who had ridden up Highway 34 and were doing the loop back down through Glen Haven.

I was SOOOO happy that we were spending the night in Estes!

Soon we were rolling along that sweet, delicious, delightful downhill into town. What a difference! What a pure joy. Suddenly the day was beautiful again, the incredible wall of mountains to the south shining in the sun. We merged with the crazy tourist traffic down in town and rode another half mile or so west until we arrived at the American Wilderness Lodge (1).

Our room was on the second floor (good thing our bikes don’t weigh much), a funky, skunky haven with all the essentials: soft bed, hot shower, and hottub! (2, 3). And also a narrow little balcony looking out over the river. We peeled out of our sweat-soaked togs, showered, dressed in some nice dry civvies, and walked back into town with a voracious appetite. After a salad bar and pizza slice we wandered up and down the main drag and did some window shopping. There was no temptation to buy anything, since it would have to be transported home on our backs! We wandered over to the Estes Park Brewery and sat out on the patio with a beer (carbo loading). Then to another restaurant for dinner. Then “home” to the hottub (4).

Had a good night’s sleep, coffee on the balcony (5), and a lovely breakfast of pecan pancakes at my all-time favorite breakfast spot, the Bighorn Cafe (right next to the hotel). We pulled on the Lycra and hit the road around 9:30 (6) and yes, Virginia, it was downhill all the way. Now THAT’S a beautiful thing! A brief stop in Drake to take off the arm and leg warmers, then on down the canyon (7, 8). We came home through Loveland (I just couldn’t face going over the hills at Horsetooth) and rolled up the driveway at 12:00.

Saturday’s stats: 45 miles, 3:15 saddle time, 5:30 total elapsed time

Sunday’s stats: 41 miles, 2:15 saddle time, 2:30 total elapsed time

Oh, yeah. Downhill is good.

But what an amazing experience! In spite of how difficult the hill at Glen Haven was, the fact is that I did it. I made it. There we were in Estes Park, without a car! Got there on our own two legs! What an incredible feeling. I could never have done it without Carol — she was so patient and so supportive, always encouraging, always relaxed and positive. And good looking! Riding with someone who has so much experience just really helps the psyche. We were giddy as kids Saturday in Estes — it was wonderful to see her so happy, so soft, all of our “in-town” tensions forgotten. Not thinking about work. Not thinking about mowing the yard. Not thinking about a million little things that are always demanding attention. Just being — and being together. I love you so much, my Carol. What an adventure we had!

Dad was right.

You may well be wondering if I survived my weekend adventure to Estes Park. The jury is still out. Thank god the human brain has a huge capacity for forgetting pain, is all I’ve got to say.

We rolled off the driveway at 8:30 Saturday morning (you can check out the photos that go along with the story on my Flickr page). The weather was cool and crystal clear — just another day in Paradise. Heading south on Overland, we were soon swinging west (photo 1) and heading for our first climb up to Horsetooth Reservoir (2). We’ve been up these hills a lot since we began training in March, so I’ve come to know every inch of them, it seems like. Soon enough we were on the backside and rolling downhill into Masonville (3).

Another short couple of miles and we were at the intersection of Highway 34, where we took a brief break and swapped out our fuel bottles (4). The couple miles from the Masonville turnoff to the entrance of Big Thompson Canyon are not great — very little shoulder, and drivers are just whipping through there. But once in the canyon, the shoulder is nice and wide, and the traffic is much slower (5, 6, 7).

It’s incredible riding through that canyon. You get to experience it in a much different way than riding in a car. The sound of the water crashing down that narrow gorge is wild music and your eyes are drawn upward, unimpeded by windows, to the high cliffs that surround you.

It’s also quite wonderful because the grade at the bottom of the canyon is relatively gentle.

Once out of the narrow portion of the canyon, it’s a bit of a slog up to Drake. There was quite a bit of traffic, but I must say that everyone was pretty well behaved. We saw a lot of cyclists, too. The grade starts to pick up, though, and there’s a lot of it.

Plus, I was just having a devilish time trying to get my delicate female parts arranged on the saddle. Sometimes it works just right, other times you just can’t get yourself settled in. It was really bothersome and quite distracting. Especially with the stress of a long climb, it’s hard not to focus on every little discomfort.

We took a very welcome break in Drake (8) where we refilled our water bottles and mixed up a fresh batch of Cytomax in them. We were at 2:15 of saddle time, which I thought was pretty good. Mileage-wise, we were about 2/3 of the way; but the worst of the climbing, by far, was ahead.

At Drake we took a right turn onto Devil’s Gulch road, which leads to Glen Haven. The first couple of miles were wonderful, pretty flat or just gently uphill, with the traffic of Highway 34 left behind (9). The road winds along the Little Thompson River, with cattle grazing in the open fields, and I finally got my female parts settled in. Over all too soon, unfortunately. The road begins to climb in earnest, long, winding segments with little to no rest to be had anywhere. It’s tough when there’s no opportunity to rest or to coast, just grind, grind, grind. I finally bailed on one stretch and dismounted for a few minutes, which helped.

We stopped again at the National Forest picnic area just before Glen Haven. I was having to rest more and more frequently; my legs were really getting dogged. It’s amazing how much even a little rest can help, though. But I couldn’t help but fret about the monster hill waiting for us after Glen Haven.

Another rest stop at the foot of the switchbacks that lay between Glen Haven and Estes Park. What are you going to do? You know intellectually that it’s really going to suck. I had a faint glimmer of hope that they might not be any worse than the switchbacks going up to the top of Rist Canyon. But we hadn’t already been climbing for over 40 miles when we did Rist.

Carol took off, and, animal that she is, she made the climb in one shot. Incredible. The climb itself is only a little over a mile, with a 700′ elevation gain. It took me over half an hour to get up that one mile, and four stops (10). Getting back into the pedals on that steep of a hill is a real adventure! The second gooseneck of each switchback is super-steep; maybe around 15% (11).

(A note about the last two pictures: after riding all the way to the top of the hill, Carol came back down the second switchback so she could take pictures of me coming up. That’s true love, folks.)

It was unbelievably hard and unbelievably painful. If I’ve ever done anything that hurt more, I sure can’t think of what it was. The situation did not improve when I realized that I was gasping uncontrollably — I hadn’t even thought about the elevation (the climb tops out at around 8000 feet). Finally I got around the second switchback. I could SEE the top. I wanted to be ON the top so bad — so, one more push — but what had looked like the top was not actually the top. There was just a little bit more, maybe another 150 yards, but I couldn’t make it. I stopped again and was so frustrated, so mad, so exhausted, that I just screamed. I put my head down on my saddle and sweat sprinkled out of the top of my helmet like I was a watering can. I could see Carol at the top but I truly wondered if I could ever get myself up to her.

But with one more push, I was up. I rode the whole hill — didn’t walk one step of it. If I never have to climb that hill again, it will be too soon.

I felt like I was finishing L’Alpe d’Huez at the Tour de France (okay, that’s 21 switchbacks, but still …). Carol caught me before I fell over and I just collapsed on the ground. We had a nice, long break (12, 13), chatted with some other cyclists, and contemplated the Payoff — five miles, all downhill, into Estes (14).

More later.

Spin cycle

I’m sitting in my Dazbog office, where I do all my best thinking, tapping along on my Powerbook. It’s especially fun to hang out in coffee shops when you have a cool Mac.

My new media/social networking/plan for world domination journey continues to carry me along. I’m three years behind the curve and trying to catch up in three weeks. I’m devouring everything I can find. And my head is spinning.

The (information) omnivore’s dilemma: it’s hard to stop exploring and start putting things together. The overwhelm can easily go from exhilarating to discouraging.

Looking forward to a different kind of spinning this weekend; Carol and I are biking up to Estes Park Saturday, via Glen Haven (yes, the dreaded switchbacks). We’ll come back Sunday. We’ve got a room in EP, with a jacuzzi (thank god). I’m looking forward to it; it will be an adventure. In pain. But Ride the Rockies is looming ever larger, and even though yesterday I turned 700 miles in my training (since March), that 93-mile day from Montrose to Crested Butte is visiting me in my dreams.