Sunrise Ride

Author: Les Becker

At 3:30am I was sound asleep. At the same time, Leon had wakened and couldn't go back to sleep, so was getting ready for an even earlier drive to the mountain. I arrived at the base of Sunrise road at 6:40 and Nick Moffit also just pulled up. The closed gate was a sign of choosing the perfect day. The road was open this weekend to bicycles and walkers but not yet to cars. Nick and I got 700 feet of climbing up the road when Leon and Scott Wager came zipping down, Leon with a tire that was going flat. We did an about face to join them. I wasn't sure how many trips they had made as Scott had a tendency at that moment to exaggerate (ha ha), but I assume that was their first.

Nick Moffit just below Sunrise

After swapping for new rear wheel (why patch the flat when you have a spare wheel in your car?) the four of us proceeded up the road again. This was one of many trips and parts of trips up the hill as small groups split and coalesced depending on how fast or how far we wanted to go. Leon stayed on the main hill up to the hairpin turn and viewpoint with 360 deg view to be efficient in getting total feet climbed since he planned to "Rainier". The rest of us rode to the upper parking lot on the next trip. There was a few feet of snow there. We met a rider who was carrying skis on his bike up to the snow. With no cars on the road I took liberty to sit in the middle of the road trying to get good pictures of John and Nick when surprised by a park van approaching - had to skidaddle out of the way.

John Winter, never breaks a sweat.

One trip up we ran into Mark on the upper slopes. He was having a good time in the sunshine. His busy schedule had prevented much training before this ride so I was impressed that he took this on as an "early season" training ride. Another trip, we were surprised to see Mike Smith and Tammy catch up to us. They had ridden Cayuse and Chinook prior. Mike pushed the pace and I never felt the same after that. Thanks Mike!

Me, feeling there is no other place in the world I would rather be.

Toward the end of my riding I had only one speed left: "just keep the bike rolling" but really enjoyed a chance to ride on such a beautiful and peaceful road talking to Leon. After my 9,000 ft I left Leon to finish his impressive 14,500, the first Rainiering, I presume, in the Cyclopath club this year.

Following "perpetual motion" Leon.

Thanks to Leon or Mike, whoever planned this ride to coincide with the bikes only weekend. It was like having our own private playground. Will do it again next year.

2017_06_20: A Mount Whitney Experience

Author:  Conor Collins

6/20/2017

It all began in February when I was sitting in a coffee shop in Santa Barbara actively searching for a distraction from the day to day grind of college classes. I found myself on the recreation.gov webpage applying for a permit to summit a mountain I had only heard of once before. “Mount Whitney, the highest peak in the lower 48,” I thought to myself, that ought to give me some much-needed motivation to get outdoors. A few months passed and I found myself on the train heading to the Burbank airport, heading home for spring break. Around 6AM I get an email from the park service informing me I was one of the lucky 30% of applicants that managed to secure a Whitney Zone permit from the lottery. The preparations began.

My permit was originally for two people, myself and a friend of mine from high school, Joe. I decided I was willing to gamble on permit availability, and invited 3 friends from college to join us in the endeavor before my permit was confirmed. On April 1^st, the day to claim your permit and make any modifications to group size, I found myself anxiously waiting, staying up until midnight to stake my claim. The time came, and I was successfully able to increase the group size of the group to 5 people, having only to change the date of our entry by one day, June 20^th. The date was set.

We had 12 weeks between the time I claimed the permit and the date of the actual summit attempt. Over that time was spring quarter at UCSB, where I managed 18 units of engineering physics, organic chemistry, vector calculus, and research in a graduate chemistry lab. Thankfully my hiking companions were just as stoked as myself, which made the weekend hiking/ training excursions that much easier to bare despite the constant workload of college courses.

Around two weeks before the summit attempt I found myself checking the trip reports available on the “Whitney Zone” forum for hikers, where I realized this summit attempt wouldn’t simply be a “hike,” but rather a crampon, gator, and ice-axe requiring trek up insane snow fields and untamed conditions. The two weeks before the hike passed so quickly I can hardly remember what I even did during that time.

Two days before the scheduled day for our permit to summit, we drove from Santa Barbara to Lone Pine. We camped at the Horseshoe Meadows campground, about 20 miles outside of town, and at an elevation of 10,000ft. The thought was the use the high-altitude camp as a chance to gauge our readiness for the heights of Mount Whitney, a sort of acclimation to the high sierra. Thankfully the night went by without a hiccup- besides the massive mountain mosquitoes whom were attracted to our gas pool of carbon dioxide (thanks to our deep, sea-level breaths).

The following morning, we woke up to the sunrise at 4:30AM, before picking up our campsite and

heading down to lone pine for a nice breakfast around 8:00. After checking with the hostel, we were told we could check-in at noon, giving us a solid amount of time to explore the Alabama hills- a recreation area where many of the classic John Wayne western films were shot. Once noon rolled around we moved into our room for the next two days, put on some hiking gear, and headed for Whitney Portal. Our plan was to do the first two miles of the Whitney hike (the amount you’re allowed to do without having a permit) as a way to gauge difficulty,

as well as acquaint ourselves with the part of the trail we would be doing in the dark the day of the summit attempt. The first two miles are primarily switchbacks, with the occasional stream crossing. We reached the “Whitney Zone” the area were permits are required for further travel in, where we reached the first major snow patch along the route. Getting an idea of what’s ahead we took a break, went to Lone Pine lake (a lake just next to the trail at the 2-mile mark) and headed back to the hostel for a good night’s rest.

The following day came quickly, and lasted not much more than a few hours. We woke up, made sure our gear was in order, packed our bags, ate some foods high in carbohydrates, took a sleeping pill and were asleep by 3PM; the alarm set for 10:30PM that night. 10:30 came quickly. We assembled ourselves, climbed into the car, and drove to the portal- about 13 miles up the road. Arriving at 11:30, we were on the trail with our headlamps and trekking poles in no time. The first two miles went by with only a small interruption: a set of eyes reflecting our lights off in the distance. Being cautious, we approached slowly before I was able to make out the faint shape of a deer’s body. (The area has a high bear population, and thanks to the multiple warnings by rangers at the permit station, we weren’t about the take any risks.) In what seemed like a few minutes but was actually around two hours, we reached the two-mile mark, were we entered the Whitney Zone.

At the entrance we noticed a small, single, headlamp coming off the mountain as we were taking a short break and strapping on our crampons. We decided to wait to learn more about the trail

conditions, and ask why he was coming off the mountain at such a strange time (around 1:30 in the morning). The lone traveler got to us eventually, wearing only shorts and a t-shirt, along with a smaller than expected pack, which is pretty unusual given the mountain conditions and chilly night-time temperature. We questioned him once he arrived, and he shared some pretty disconcerting news about the level and swiftness of the creeks to come. His explanation for the strangely-timed descent down from the mountain was due to his own error, mainly traveling alone, and secondly because he slipped into a creek and soaked his gear after unknowingly veering from the trail. With that advice and some good wishes, we continued our journey up the slopes of Whitney- 15 miles to go.

Shortly after entering the Whitney Zone we came across the first creek crossing the guy mentioned, it was shallow- nothing standard gortex hiking boots couldn’t manage, and we continued on. About a mile later we came across a roaring creek. Trump would most likely use words such as “Very loud. Incredibly loud, the loudest” to describe it. We quickly noticed that this creek (river) would be too large to simply cross. As a result, Joe and I hoisted a large rock and placed it with a little luck in the middle of the river to create the vital missing stepping stone. One by one we made our way across, using our gators to deflect any water that managed to run up the boot. Everyone made it over without so much as getting their feet wet.

At that point, we entered the first “base camp” of Mount Whitney- Outpost Camp. We decided to stop there and grab a quick bite to eat before continuing forward. Just after leaving the camp we encountered the conditions that the solo hiker mentioned earlier, an impassible river crossing. I knew something had to be wrong because I probably spent more hours doing research for this trip then I did studying for the classes in my spring quarter, so I pulled out my GPS with the route I had pre-programmed into it. Sure enough, we made the same mistake he did, we were off course. I took twenty paces to the right, and we were back on the trail.

After no time at all, the trees had disappeared, and the snow fields became the entirety of the dark horizon. One step at a time we carefully placed our crampons into the sub-par snow slope as we inched our way up the remaining 5 miles to the summit. Around 4:20am some faint light from the morning sun began to show on the mountainside. Around 5:30, the time we reached the final basecamp before the summit push, the sun was casting a magnificent glow on the granite walls that surround Whitney. 

At around 12,000 feet in elevation, a few of us were beginning to notice the low levels of oxygen. Thanks to Abby, we each had another pill of Diamox, as well as corticosteroid designed for combating the side effects of AMS. What lay ahead of us was the most intimidating portion of the summit attempt. Called “the chute,” (a portion of the hike up Mount Whitney normally traversed by the “99 switchbacks” a 1,500-foot snow wall that appeared to be nearly vertical loomed just off in the distance.

After collecting ourselves at Trail Camp we decided to break the chute into four parts; we stopped for a breather at the end of each quarter. Surprisingly, I don’t remember much from the ascent of that thing, besides knowing that if I dropped anything, a phone, a pole, myself, anything, it would never be recovered. Thankfully nothing of that nature happened.

At the top of the chute we reached Trail Crest, the point of the trail where you reach the top of the ridge-line that feeds into the Whitney summit. It also is the point where the Whitney trail joins with the John Muir trail. The vista at trail crest was totally incredible. You have a near 360-degree view of the eastern sierra range, as well as a complete view of the western back-country looking into Sequoia National Park. We had 2 miles to go to the summit.

The final two miles were snow-free, but almost entirely above 14,000 feet. Again, my memory is

faded, but the vista was incredible all the way to the summit. I felt like an entirety but following a small rock scramble the summit, and the little shelter at the top, were within an arms’ reach.

We had made it to the summit of the highest peak in the contiguous United States. The views were unlike anything I had ever seen before. Although not as defiant as Mount Rainier stands above the Puget Sound, Mount Whitney lends no doubt that it is far superior to any neighboring peak.

After spending some time “relaxing” at 14,508 feet, we realized we had enough cell service to make phone calls. I managed to call my dad and update him on our success. It was an incredible moment; something I will never forget. After some celebratory photos, we headed back- having only completed half the hike at that point.

The descent was fairly uneventful, with the exception of the glissade down the chute. Something that took up over two hours to ascend, we managed to descend in around ten minutes. Nerve racking? Yes. Would I do it again? Absolutely. After the chute, my mind went into autopilot, having only one goal of reaching the car and taking a warm shower. A juicy cheeseburger was on my mind as well.

Besides the incredible experience- something totally unforgettable, I wouldn’t have been possible without the incredible group of people that accompanied me. Abby, Sydney, Ezra, and Joe - you guys incredible. 

Skate Creek Loop 2017 -- by Dwaine

Seven Cyclopaths arrived for the 2017 Skate Creek Loop event in the following order: Leon, Adam, David, Les, Dwaine, Rob, Rex. Mike was not in attendance. The Cyclopath administration offered no official reason but I did hear whispers in the wind that indicated beer or beer making was at the heart of his absence. Leon stepped up and took charge for the day.

The cool air and Leon's gentle reminder motivated us to get pedaling in short order.

A quartet of Cyclopaths flying in formation early in the day.

The gradual gradient leaving Ashford and entering the park was a good fit for getting chilly riders warmed up. The road was still wet but there was only light traffic and we rode at a comfortable and sociable pace. Multiple conversations were in full swing. Adam shared what he had learned regarding current gravel/cross bike offerings. Later Rex and I discussed some of his wheel building experiences. The Cyclopaths seem to maintain a good balance of performance pedaling and social camaraderie and I especially appreciated this balance after my early training season.

Posing in front of the inn at Longmire. No need for hot chocolate, fresh socks, or a warm fire.

After a short stop at Longmire the ride resumed at an increased pace. Conversations continued but we were now into a more scenic and challenging portion of the climb. This section of this long climb is still one of my favorites and it did not disappoint. At one point, as Mount Rainier became visible, I shouted to the group "We'll forget the suffer but remember that view!".

This image shows demonstrates how quickly playing paparazzi can get you dropped. But I wanted to take a step back and let my camera absorb more of the road and trees. These twists and turns are some of my favorites.

As we passed Steven's Canyon Road the group chose to separate a bit. Before long I was following just Leon and Adam. The air was feeling cooler and we were seeing more snow. Adam commented that the air felt thin. I responded that Leon's pace was making my lungs work a lot harder. Leon ignored us and kept cranking the pedals and later claimed that he wanted to test his fitness. He certainly tested mine.

Adam is looking strong here and the blue skies gave us all an little extra to smile about.

After regrouping at Paradise we discussed the idea of descending through Paradise Valley. A barricade read 'Road Closed' but the pavement was bare as far down as was visible. Les cautioned us against the idea. Later we thanked him as we passed the Paradise Valley Road East outlet. Many feet of snow still covered the bottom reaches of the road.

How many times have I asked the Cyclopaths to pose with Mount Rainier in the background? Too many! This day Adam's Giant Defy anchored the shot.

A group photo was planned at Reflection Lake. Neither the mountain, hidden in clouds, nor the reflection, buried in snow, was willing to cooperate.

As Stevens Canyon Road turned down hill the air began feeling warmer and the sun broke through. As we passed Stevens Creek we experienced a number of temporary waterfalls. Water cascaded off the high rock walls and down to the road surface. On a hot climb up in July or August we would have surely cooled ourselves in the water. But this day we enjoyed only their beauty.

The remainder of the descent was uneventful. Just what we hoped for.

Reflection Lake with no reflection. The sky was full of clouds and the lake covered in snow. This photo represents all riders except myself who was twiddling the camera knobs. My silver bicycle 'Huckleberry' stood in for me. This image also gives hints of the not too summery temperatures.

As the air continued to warm we started on the short section of Highway 123. We rode conservatively and enjoyed the marvelous scenery. At least until the Highway 12 junction.

The pace quickened, leaders changed, I followed wheels, and pretty soon just David and myself had a gap on the rest of the riders. David pulled me most of the way to Packwood. Thank you David. It wasn't until the last mile or so that I noticed a rider coming up from behind. Adam had closed the gap and brought Les with him. It was a strong show of power from Adam and we silently hoped it had taken some of his edge off.

As we provisioned in Packwood the sun continued to smile on us. I was able to remove my extra layers. Leon cheerfully and efficiently repaired a front flat. Rob shared some cold water for topping off bottles. And we generally enjoyed the warmth, company, and the choice of messages on patron's t-shirts as they drifted in and out of the convenience store.

I like to bring home the detail shots. Mechanical issues often attract the attention of my camera. Although just a flat front tire, I asked Leon for a smile as he quickly swapped tubes.

As we embarked on the road for which the day's ride was named the discussion of the upcoming climb was broached. Adam seemed unaware that, on occasion, the pace has seemed to elevate on this final climb. I characterized this increase in pace as 'A gunfight' and advised that I, for one, had only brought a blade. At first the pace quickened within reason. Eventually Adam went off the front.

As many Cyclopaths recall this climb is never too steep and the grade tapers. Leon watched Adam ride away and then quickly organized the four nearest riders into a team. "One minute pulls" he cheered. I guessed that Leon was planning that our group of four would loose time on the bottom half of the climb but then share the work enough to make up the difference on the top half of the climb. David, Les, and myself bought into the plan and went to work.

Over time Leon's group dwindled to just Leon and myself. One minute off the front was not enough for me to keep my battery up. Eventually I told Leon I couldn't pull and he seemed to have no problem towing me the remainder of the distance up and over the top.

As fine a plan as it was, we did not catch Adam until Adam wanted to be caught. He turned around to regroup. Nice ride Adam.

At about that same time the sun chose to hide behind the clouds. Cooler temperatures followed us the remaining ten miles as we each chose our own pace to finish the ride. I fought some cramps and Les slowed to shepherd my in. Thanks Les.

As the group trickled in we all seemed to express the same series of emotions. Despair from that final effort, satisfaction of completion, and then gratitude. Gratitude that we can cycle our way up and down the mountains, at speed, with our friends.

During the ride Leon asked me to be this rides photo journalist and I happily agreed. It is an honor to ride with this group and I get to relive the day while I create this document. I am also afforded a venue to share my gratitude with Leon for leading us. Both as the ride organizer and as the pace maker. Thanks Leon.

2017_06_07 Puyallup Cyclopath Riding Solo

Author:  Nick Iverson

This year, even as a recently retired physician, my schedule of birthdays, more birthdays, baby sitting, visiting grandchildren, and weather have made it difficult to ride with the Cyclopaths on “official” rides.  Being on the waiting list for the Ride Around Mt. Rainier in One Day (RAMROD), and having survived my 72d birthday, has kept me in training in the mountains, albeit mostly alone.

The mountain rides have been several trips up Mt. Rainier:  one from Ashford then another from Elbe where I was surrounded at the Paradise parking lot as a Celebrity Cyclopath by a bunch of students who had just returned from a hike up the Mountain.  Subsequently I rode with a friend up almost to Sunrise until the snow, then going down to Crystal Mountain Blvd. to ride to the Ski area.  The 45 mph descent was awesome.  My last trip was a solo Skate Creek Loop ride, starting with a trip up to Paradise.

With a gradual weight loss, using the Dr.. Iverson technique:  “no white foods except cauliflower” has promoted good nutrition and eliminated as much sugar as possible from my diet.  Having preached this formula to patients for over forty-one years, the minimal change was simple, but….  I LOVE SUGAR!!  I walk by the sweet stuff in the grocery stores with a full stomach, and took a special formulated product, not available in stores, but if you called 888-Get Thin, between the hours of 1 AM and 1:01 AM January 32, 2017, you could have purchased the formula, guaranteed to help with your weight for the rest of your life.  OBECAL-P!!!  You got three bottles (1,000 doses) for the price of five, plus a couple hundred dollars in handling fees.  The secret?...  The product is placebo spelled backwards, and each dose contains the message:  “Do More and Eat Less.  Maintain Discipline!”

I digress.  June 10th was a scheduled ride I love:  The Skate Creek Loop.  The weather report for that Saturday looked cold and rainy/snowy and the ride was postponed.  The result prompted me to ride at the end of a warm stretch of weather on June 7, three days before the scheduled ride.  The ride is from WA 7 at the turn off to Skate Creek Road, (On our bikes at 5 AM!) up to Paradise (I love that climb), then descend past Reflection Lakes (still covered with snow), a quick stop at the hair pin curve for a Photo op, then on to Ohanapecosh with a short speed bump over Backbone Ridge.  No, this is NOT a mountain pass.  Then the most glorious descent of the ride winds down as fast as possible, ending near the Grove of the Patriarchs.  After the initial smooth portion of the Stevens Canyon descent, the road is a little sketchy, and riding alone, I did not feel comfortable at full speed, but two quick stops for Photos, gazing up and across the Canyon to see the road already descended, and looking backward to see the Mountain (which is not seen unless one rides backwards or stops to look), made the descent much more glorious, and the small waterfalls on the left provided an almost mystical music of nature.  Only a bicyclist has the opportunity to hear these sounds, smell the clear air and the perfume of the trees and flowers.  There was enough snow and run-off that there was some rivulets crossing the road, which was another reason to be careful; however, past Backbone Ridge—no brains and no brakes!

View from Kautz Creek...

Just past Longmire...

As an aside, there was a decision point regarding continuing the ride, as there had been a power outage at the Visitor Center at Paradise, and I did not have enough calories packed to get to Packwood.  After sitting across from the empty food line, and having squeezed past the barrier to this area, I kept pestering the fellow who runs that food service, and he said, “Weren’t you up here last week?”  I said I had been up twice.  Using some cash, he was able to let me buy some Gatorade and salty potato chips, to replenish the fluids, as the day was quite warm, and I had intentionally polished off both bike bottles on the ascent.  The ride was a go.

Reflection Lake...

View from hairpin turn just above Stevens Canyon...

Stevens Canyon Road...

Backbone Ridge...

Continuing down WA 123 until Hwy 12 was amazing, with temperatures rising to be HOT, but this stretch is surrounded by trees, which helps keep the temperature down a little, and I rode this short distance with only one car passing me until reaching the “T” in the road.  At this point I drank most of the fluids remaining, as the trip to Packwood was going to be hot and into the usual headwind.  Knowing that there was not going to be a paceline of Cyclopath riders or Rob C., to blast into the wind, I needed to conserve energy, but eventually I saw the sign “Welcome to Packwood.”  At the Mobil Gas station off Skate Creek, I stopped for about 20 minutes, ate as much as possible, and gabbed with the gentleman running the station, and a motorcyclist who happened in.  “You are riding around this trip on a BICYCLE!!”  Sure, why not.  “MUCH quieter than your HOG,” I said to myself.

Recovered, and fueled up, I stuffed my undershirt under my short sleeve jersey along with my light jacket I took just in case, as I still had 24 hot miles to go to get back to my car, hoping that the windows would not be bashed in.  By this time, it was rush hour, and there were at least TEN cars coming toward me, and three or four pickup trucks passed me on the climb.  Each truck waited to be just along side of me to stomp on the accelerator (the diesel pedal) to be as obnoxious as possible.  Apart from those 13 or fourteen vehicles, I rode the 24 miles with the Skate Creek to my right, and the road had been patched, making the trip up and over in a PR for me.  The quiet ride up the ascent is meditative.  Other than the problem with my new cassette, chain and shifters not working properly, the ride was wonderful.  I wound up doing the entire climb in the big ring in the front, as this minimized the self-shifting cassette.  Amazingly, the weight loss this year allowed me to get up and over the top feeling quite well.  The spin back to the car was a little unnerving, being alone, and dodging a few potholes.  At the car all of the windows were intact!!

Vicious Cycles Leavenworth Gran Fondo -- by Dwaine

Author:  Dwaine Trummert

With impressive views, a 50/50 paved to gravel split, an intimidating elevation profile, and over 80 miles, Gran Fondo Leavenworth certainly meets the criteria of a 'kinda serious' cycling event.

On May 21, 2017 I arrived in Peshashtin on time, well trained, and with the weather looking beautiful. The mountains were in full view in all directions. I wondered if they understood the challenge they would create for myself and about 200 others.

This ride was to be the first serious challenge for my recently acquired Waterford that I named 'Huckleberry'. Due to the forecast gravel road roughness I was running a set of 40c tubeless 'Rambler' tires at pressures of 33 front and 43 rear.

Earlier in the week I had learned that, due to snow, one major climb had to be omitted from the original course. This shortened version was to be 80 miles and 7000 feet of climbing. 

We started at 8 a.m. with a four mile neutral rollout. These miles were through a rolling valley with various farms and orchards on each side of the road. The course gradient gradually steepened and by mile six I had chosen my own pace and watched the strong men go up the road.

Mile eight is when we reached the end of the pavement and the start of the real climbing. I stayed with my plan and followed no wheels instead choosing to climb at an efficient pace. The gravel road was smooth, the air was still cool, and I crested without feeling spent.

The gravel continued to be smooth but was interspersed with a few 100 meter sections of snow. Most were rideable with one being taken on the run cyclocross style.

When the gradient turned negative the gravel road was still relatively smooth which allowed for a spirited descent. I paired up with another rider who was clearly an experienced descender and we reached the pavement in good time.

The paved road to the aid station in Entiat was a 1% downward grade. I teamed up with a couple other riders. One of which I'll call 'Rob'. He was locomotive strong. Just a minute into my first turn at the front he lost patience and just motored by. For the rest of this section I worked to hold the wheel in front of me and took embarrassingly short turns at the front. We reached the aid station, roughly halfway through the ride, in short order.

After filling my bottles and pockets I left the aid station with three other riders. Knowing the next ten miles would be paved and level along the Columbia River I wanted to have some 'friends'. We easily fell into a rhythm of avoiding the numerous stones on the shoulder, taking turns at the front, and rehydrating.

As this group settled in I made a quiet observation to myself that 'Rob', described previously, was dangling a couple hundred yards off the front of our group. But I hoped we wouldn't catch him. I knew he was powerful and thought our group was working at a sustainable pace.

Our bubble was burst, however, when the rider in position number two had an instantaneous front tire flat. Both he and the rider in position three showed some excellent bike handling in keeping upright and avoiding a collision. I was fortunate enough to witness the whole show and have enough time and space to stay well clear of it.

After regrouping into a trio we started slowly reeling Rob in. When we caught him the group dynamic changed a bit. When Rob pulled the pace was 23 to 24 mph. The rest of us were only able to pull at 21 to 22mph. Before long we caught and incorporated a rider who had been solo for a while. He was happy to see us.

When our group of five reached Swakane Canyon road the flavor of the route changed completely. Behind us was the 20+ mph paceline efficiency. Ahead lied a rough dirt climb with plenty of embedded stones. The gradient changed constantly fluctuating between nearly flat to 10%. These changes were often in less than 100 yards. And it was hot. The temperature moderation from the cool waters of the rolling Columbia River was no more. I dripped perspiration just minutes into the climb.

I knew from studying the elevation profile that this climb would be long. It started at about 800 feet above see level and ended at about 4000 feet. The inefficiencies of climbing on gravel did not make it any easier.

For the most part I did not set a goal of staying with any other rider. I set an appropriate level of hurt, labeled it my 'discomfort zone', and then adjusted my effort to stay right in the middle. At one point the grade was steep and long enough that I shifted into low-low. Put another way, my cogset ran out of viable options and my feet pushed on the ground directly.

My position in the group of five ebbed and flowed. But, by throttling my effort early and choosing to walk the toughest section I think came out better than the others.

Halfway to the top I realized I had a problem. With four miles of climbing left until the next aid station I calculated that my water bottles would go dry more than 30 minutes before reaching the next aid station. The road was close enough to a creek that I could hear running water. I contemplated dipping my head into the creek if the road drew near enough. A couple minutes later I rolled up to a tiny stream that crossed the road. From the stream I filled one bottle twice and over my head I drained it twice. The water was startlingly cold. The bottle was filled a third time and I used this mountain water to cool my head and shoulders for the remainder of the climb.

Switching to external cooling might have been my best decision of the day. I reached the aid station and summit tired but without damage.

The final gravel descent was long and not as smooth as the first, my mind was fatigued, and I chose to descend conservatively. By the time I reached the end of the gravel I had passed a couple riders and allowed my battery to recharge a bit.

When I emerged onto the final eight miles of pavement my legs felt OK but I was riding alone. Just a mile or two later and a fast rider quickly closed the gap and I jumped onto his wheel. He was pulling hard. After a couple minutes he signaled for me to take a turn. I first apologized and then told him there was no way I could pull at his pace. I rode his wheel and with about four miles to go he slowed a bit and asked for help. Over those four miles I took just two turns at the front and neither of them lasted more than a couple minutes.

'Huckleberry' did a great job handling the variety of road surfaces.

He was the 21st rider to cross the line and I later thanked him for pulling me to 22nd.
I was pleased with my finish position and time of about 5 hours 30 minutes. For comparison, the first rider to finish took 40 minutes less.

In the past I've looked back at a race and wished I had made different choices. For this event I believe that I made no significant mistakes and rode pretty close to my top potential.

As the image shows I felt good enough about myself, my bike, and my tire choice to pose for a post race photo.

The next and final Vicious Cycles Gran Fondo for my season is Gran Fondo Winthrop in September. GFW is longer, higher, and has more volatile weather. But that event is a ways out. I've been training steadily since January and have been looking forward to a break in intensive training. That break starts today.

Which means I can go ride in the mountains with my friends!

See you all soon.

p.s. I've ventured into the 'social media' realm via Instagram. Photos that don't make it to this blog might show up at https://www.instagram.com/allroadie/

2017_05_20 Alder Lake Loop Ride

Author:  Nick Iverson

On an overcast morning, having rescheduled this yearly ride based on weather concerns from May 13 to May 20th, seven intrepid cyclists gathered in Orting for the annual “easy ride.”  Rob Critchfield, David Crawford, Leon Matz (this years leader), Kurt Maute, Scott Larson, Scott Wagar and Nick Iverson headed out for apleasant ride.  We headed out Orville Road, toward Eatonville, then up a short climb on WA 161, then right on Ohop Valley Extension Rd., then on to Mountain Hwy to the Eatonville Cutoff, then returned on the same route from Eatonville.  At Camp 1 Road, the group (sans Rob who went back on Hwy 161 with time crunch), divided into two groups.  Leon (Mr. Hill) along with David and Scott W headed up the hill; and Scott L., Nick I, and Kurt M., headed back to Orting with time issues.   Sadly, the God Father of the Cyclopaths, Mike Hassur, was having some neck problems that prohibited riding with us.  At the start, it did not take too long for Rob and David to fail to restrain themselves, and take off ahead of

the group.  We regrouped at the turnoff for Orville Road.  

Before long, part of the group needed a nature break (there is a bathroom on Lake Kapowsin).  Kurt and I had kept our coffee intake down before the ride and knew that we would be struggling to keep up.  We kept riding.  We rode at our own pace and discussed travel, airplane sales, and the weather; but not politics.  Soon the Peloton arrived, and Kurt and I survived until we arrived at the Mountain Hwy.  There the climbers were off, leaving Kurt and me in the dust.  They waited at the Alder Lake Overlook in order to get the obligate photo.

Alder Lake Dam Overlook (photo by Nick Iverson)

Leon gave Kurt some Goo which kicked in after a while, and he survived to return to Orting.  We rode in a quasi pace line to Camp 1 Rd where the hill climbers continued up the five mile climb (THE CLIMB) at a remarkable pace, then returned to Orting. Leon, not to be outdone, rode to the start from his house, and rode back home to get in his 111.6 mile ride, and climb 5,259 feet.  The sun was beginning to burn through the clouds, at the photo op, making for a perfect day to ride.

The only incident of note was David, riding ahead with Scott W. and about 100 yards ahead of Scott L and meon Orville Rode on the return, suddenly went down.  “What happened?” Scott L asked.  David’s response, after first checking out his bike as a true cyclist:  “I was messing around, and went off the road.”  I am not sure if he was texting while riding, as he had his cell phone in his hand, but we decided not to report the incident to the State Patrol.  Next was a

quick check on David’s condition, and he had a little shoulder pain, but seemed not to have suffered any life threatening injuries.  Except for the inability to ride as a group and complete the ride together, it was a perfect day for riding.  Thankfully, we all survived to tell about it.

Dwaine Visits the GFE -- by Dwaine

Vicious Cycles promotes a number of Gran Fondo style events in Eastern Washington and I finally experienced the fun. 'Gran Fondo Ephrata' is the first Fondo of the five event series and is described as the 'easy' one. This year's event used a modifed course due to snow. This change lowered the climbing to just 3500 feet but extended the length to 84 miles. About 30 of those miles are on relatively smooth gravel roads. This was my first Vicious Cycles Fondo and I learned a bunch.

At the end of this post I've included a link to a short video that gives a racer's view of the event and the mixed surfaces we encountered.

For this event I brought my commuting/rain/rando Cannondale T700. This 90's aluminum touring bike has aluminum fenders, a front rack, and an eight speed downtube shifted drive train. It rolls on 35mm Pasela road tires with tubes and latex sealant. This tire setup is heavy and probably costs a bit in rolling resistance but has proven reliable and gravel worthy. Although not modern this bike has served me well and is well tested. It also stood out in a sea of modern Carbon bikes.

Ephrata was forecast for temps from 30 to 50 degress and overcast skies. The four mile neutral roll out did not help me warm up much. But I was thankful as the first couple miles were narrow with an irrigation ditch waiting for any rider who strayed off the two track path.

As soon as we were released the pace quickened yet I was able to stay in touch with the lead group. This 16 mile section was paved, flat, and featured a headwind. Perfect conditions to 'sit in' the protection of the group.

At mile 20 we started up the Overen Road reroute. This dirt road climb quickly strung the group out and I chose to ascend at a safe and steady pace. At the top of the 700 foot climb I burnt a match to close the 50 foot gap to the next rider. But it was for naught. I encountered no riders interested in descending Overen at Cyclocross pace.

When I hit the Baird Springs Rd junction I joined two other riders. I knew this road was a slight descent but did not realize it was unpaved. We worked together at a pretty hot pace. The pace was faster than I preferred and the loose gravel kept it interesting. The other two riders seemed keen on bridging to a group up the road. We caught the group of five at the tunnel and I hid in the back for the next few miles in an attempt to regain my strength.

Sitting in was a good plan executed too late. At the 30 mile mark we encountered a small climb on Stuhlmiller Rd. We could see what I believe was the lead group cresting the climb. But my legs were already hurting. After the Stulmiller climb we eventually regrouped but I was now clearly in a group that wanted a faster pace than I did. Yet I chose to stay in the group for the next ten miles until we reached the aid station at mile 42.

Instead of stopping at the aid station I leveraged my onboard resources. I brought enough food and water for the entire ride.

Just as I passed the aid station a small group exitted. Yeah! One of the riders indicated he needed to make a rolling water closet stop and I followed suit.

We then started working on closing the 100 yard gap and my body said 'No, uh-uh, sorry'. I yelled to the other rider 'I'm out' and sat up.

At this point I pondered my situation. I knew that the next 18 miles were up the nearly flat Palisades Rd. which often includes a head wind. I had been warned that this is the point in which a rider most wants to be sharing the work. Yet I was alone, tired, and watching the group ahead quickly shrink in the distance. So I slowed substantially and started consuming the food and water I had carried for the previous two hours. At my slow pace I knew my strength would return.

When the first group came to me I joined but was spit out the back with a minute or two. They were too fast for my tired body.

The experience with the second group to come by was similar except that I gave up more quickly.

The third group to come by was moving faster than I wanted but I managed to barely hang with them. I had a good suffer going but was at least moving faster than if alone. It was at this time that another rider in the group noticed my rear tire riding a little low. I chose to hope for the best and to keep pedalling until I was forced to make a repair.

As we moved up Palisades road the wind subsided a bit. When the road neared the end of this valley the road turned to smooth dirt and was sometimes in the shade of the steep cliffs. I don't know if the dirt slowed the group of the shade refreshed my soul, but I started to regain my composure. Of course, this didn't last long.

At about the 60 mile mark we left the shade of the canyon walls and started up the 'Three Devils'. The first is short and quite steep at 15% or so. I chose my lowest gear and entered survival mode. This was the low point of my day.

Dwaine showed off the Cyclopath jersey for GFE. This photo taken as the group is just seconds from starting up the first of the Devils.

Despite the difficulty of the first pitch by the time I summitted the last of the Devils I was in better shape than when I started. With no group to dictate my pace I chose a steady and sustainable pace that allowed me to get back into my comfort zone. I was now about 65 miles into the ride, nursing a cramp, and hanging onto another rider's wheel. He was in about the same shape and also fighting a cramp.

At mile 72 I was passed by three riders wearing Vicious Cycles kits who seemed open to having a fourth. I needed to pick up my pace to hang with them and my legs seemed to second my decision by stepping up to the task.

Over the next few miles of rollers we sometimes rode two by two on the short climbs. I was curious about the club and they shared their knowledge.

The course profile showed a fast descent from mile 75 to 80 with the course progressing to more or less flat for the finish. I offered that my legs were pretty much 'burnt slap up' and that they needn't worry about my sprinting potential. They laughed. Instead of a sprint, they suggested that, at most, I might observe 'only a slight increase in speed' at the finish.

The descent down Sheep Canyon was glorious. These riders knew the road, signaled where there might be gravel washed onto the pavement, and ushered me down in style. At times I was nearly spun out. As the grade lessened at about mile 80 we caught two riders. Caught, as in, closed the gap on. And caught, as in, offered some fast wheels to follow. Which they did.

Over the next four miles I watched as business started to get interesting. After making our final turn the pace started to quicken. The Vicious Cycles folks realized they had one rider who posed no threat. That was me. And two riders who did. I was not jockeying for position but the two other newcomers were. I was working pretty hard to hang on and did see 27 mph on my Garmin. My finish was uneventful. I followed the wheel in front of me while a few in the front scrambled for better position.

As soon as I stepped off the bike I realized my legs were about ready to seize. I walked a couple shaky laps around the parking lot until the muscles were eventually convinced the pedalling was done.

When it was all over I learned I finished 35th out of 200 at an average speed of 17.2 m.p.h. I was quite pleased with this performance.

As I loaded my bike I noticed that the chain was still on the 14 tooth cog from the fast finish. That made me smile. I also inspected the rear tire. It had lost about half of its pressure but the sealant had done its job well enough to keep me rolling to the finish.

Well after the event was over I realized how I might have ridden a better race. My three GFE lessons are listed below.

Packing enough food and water was a great plan. It allowed me to choose to stop at the aid station or not.

Working hard down Baird Springs was not wise. The chase to connect cost some matches. And the pace of the group we caught was a bit fast for me.

Failing to schedule a lower paced 'rest' segment before the aid station was also a poor choice. Looking back it seems reasonable that groups recently rested from the aid station would be running a 'little hot' compared to me given my lack of rest.

Next on my Fondo calendar is the Gran Fondo Leavenworth in May. It features a few more miles of length and one more mile of elevation gain. Giddy Up!

Link to short video of 2017 GFE racer's view: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hnDB6qQtqUc

Link to a five minute 'quad copter' video of this year's GFE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KxIwiFf_YIs