| Quick Stats Ride Distance: 98 miles Elevation Gain: 8,725 feet Average Moving Speed: 12.92 mph |
First, even though I have only just started writing, I must apologize. I am fairly certain this write-up will be longer than usual. I am confident of this because my dear wife wrote down some notes on our long drive home from this ride to make sure I didn't forget any ride highlights. So with this one paragraph aside, which ironically is making this anticipatedly (or is that anticipatingly?) long post even longer, but thankfully just below the anonymous blog writers association threshold of requiring yet another apology, I will now begin to discuss our Tour of the Unknown Coast.
Perhaps first I should begin with our expectations before the ride. We knew this would be a tough ride. So much so that this was the (pronounced "thee") ride we've been preparing for so far this year. You see we've been climbing lots of steep hills. At the ends of training rides. We know all about The Wall, a steep climb that comes at about the 80-mile mark. I even analyzed it on Google Maps (and Google Earth) to see if it was really 18-22% slope for a mile like the ride organizers claim on their web site. (Google says a little less steep, but not all that different.)
So it was with this 800 pound gorilla in the back of our minds that we started the ride. It was a group start. Apparently some consider it a race and they actually time it. So we all started in a mass of cycling-humanity at exactly 7:00 a.m. But not before a moment of silence to honor the recent passing of a local cyclist. That is a very sobering way to begin a bike ride. Just as we got started Amy noticed someone had painted "CAUTION: Rough Road Next 100 miles" on the pavement. At the time she got a chuckle out of it.
Amy, thankful for a respite from the wind: |
There was a serious headwind to start the ride, for about 15 of the first 20 miles. When it wasn't windy it was only because you were climbing one of the little warm-up climbs at the 10-mile mark. It was at this point that I took all of the pictures you see here. The self-portrait is a completely accidental shot that is so far the only picture I have of me riding my new Trek Domane 5.2 bicycle. It is really sight to behold, no?
It is a long ways from Vancouver, Washington to Ferndale, California, so we had to haul our gear and ourselves down here. In such situations there is invariably something forgotten. You just hope it isn't something too important, like a bike or cycling shorts. This time it was my leg warmers. I thought I brought them, but instead had thrown in my very similar looking arm warmers. What to do? Well obviously you try the arm warmers on your legs and see what happens. They were a tad tight, but seemed within reason. After slowly sliding down my knee for the first few miles they finally stopped slipping when they got just below the knee. So clearly these arm warmers can double as shin warmers, with the added feature of excellent knee ventilation.
Our favorite part of the ride was the Avenue of the Giants. We've all been in forests before. But there is just something special about riding through a forest with the enormous Redwoods all around you. Those things are spectacular.
Once we got out of the forest we noticed it was actually a nice and sunny day. It was still cool, but that just made the 2,500-foot climb all the more pleasant. It was on this climb we heard what sounded like the static electricity from an overhead power transmission line, but much louder. But there were no power lines. It was coming from the trees. Crickets or something. How very loud they were.
Our riding buddy, Mike Ward: |
During the climb we were passed by four fast-moving ranger (law enforcement) SUVs. We hoped it wasn't an issue with our event. This was our second clue about something bigger going on, but we had no idea. Our first clue was all the police and special law enforcement units staying at our hotel the night before the ride. We figured there was some sort of training area nearby.
It was on this climb, which was no pushover of a climb with spots over 12% slope, that I started to notice the difference from the lighter weight bicycle I was now riding. We knew there was some nasty climbing later in the ride so we were taking it relatively easy, but I'm pretty sure I would have struggled a bit with my old aluminum Trek 2.1, now referred to as my "heavy bike".
At the top was where the struggling really began. The descent, usually my hard earned reward for conquering a climb, was really more of a punishment. The road condition was bad. Potholes. Lots of them. Or maybe more accurately described as just broken down pavement. If you weren't braking for bad road you were braking for hairpin curves. Sadly, this was the norm for the entire descent. If you had a little stretch of smooth road and risked letting off the brakes (which meant speeding up very quickly as it was very steep) you would assuredly pound yourself into submission within a few seconds on the next stretch of bad road. If you think I am adding dramatic flare and exaggeration you would be wrong, it was actually worse than I am describing. I was seriously concerned about snapping my bike in half a couple times. Had I been using my prior wheels, the various sets of Eastons I went through with the breaking spokes, I'm fairly certain I would have been spokeless before long. If I add any more to this paragraph we could start getting into dramatic flare territory so I will stop it here to keep it brutally factual.
In fact I will add some down to earth numbers. My iBike tracks how much braking energy (in kilojoules) is scrubbed off on rides. Which is meaningless without context. It also tracks how much energy was actually put into pedaling on rides, so you can see what percent of the ride energy was used for braking. Looking back at the data for many of our past rides it appears in the 3 to 7% range, with an occasional 10% outlier. On this ride it was 31.4%. We used one-third as much of the energy generated from pedaling for braking! When I exclude the rest of the ride and only analyze the 2500-foot hill, both the ascent and the descent, the braking energy is 55% of the pedaling energy!
My surprise self-portrait: |
Upon surviving that big descent, during which Amy had to stop twice to give her wrists and hands a braking break (I admit, pun intended), we also had to survive a single lane wooden bridge. The wooden panels, maybe 8 or 10 inches wide, were laid horizontally (in line with the direction of travel), and there was an occasional gap between them of about the width of our bicycle tires. In other words, a recipe for disaster. We made it, but another rider at the next rest stop (only 50 yards away) showed us his bloody face and scraped up knee. His tire went straight into a gap on the bridge. At that stop I also heard other cyclists saying they needed to check all bolts and screws on their bikes as they may have become loose during that descent. They weren't kidding.
We topped off on water and grabbed a couple of bars, and removed all remaining extra clothing since the day was warming up nicely, and continued our journey toward Mt. Doom, er, I mean, The Wall. I think it was during this stretch we were on a little climb and noticed a couple of hawks overhead. They were squabbling about something. I finally got a good look when they were not all that high and circling straight above us (not a super easy thing to do while riding, mind you) and I noticed they were fighting over a snake! Let me just remind you, dear reader, these hawks were directly over us. Needless to say we picked up the pace for a few seconds to make sure they were no longer directly over us.
Later we were approaching some loose cattle out on the side of the road. The cyclist ahead of us decided he didn't want to ride around them so he stopped. As Amy and I approached we slowed a bit but kept going and went around them. The cyclist followed behind us and offered as explanation my new favorite quote from another cyclist: "Those didn't look like guernseys!" Apparently only guernseys are safe for humanity and all other cattle breeds are to be feared greatly.
The lunch stop was at about mile 62. When we arrived there were no sandwiches, but at least there were some other goodies. Thankfully the sandwiches arrived while we were there, so I did have a few bites of a tasty roast beef sandwich before we headed out again. There are a couple little climbs on this stretch where a fellow rider wearing headphones was ahead of us. We would watch him as he passed other cyclists, he would basically ride on the center line of the road. The problem is he clearly had his headphones too loud because he didn't hear anyone (like myself) shouting "car back" nor did he hear the car itself as it approached him. He just camped out on the center stripes, oblivious to the frustrated driver, who finally got his attention by honking. Headphone Guy could have solved this problem one of two ways: 1) turn down the headphones, or 2) stay completely in your lane of travel when you pass other cyclists (particularly when they are as far to the right as possible, which they were). Completely avoidable.
Ride data: |
It was also on this stretch when we were riding through the little town of Petrolia, I think, we saw a gal riding in front of us nearly get run over by a car. We were going down a gradual grade into the town, which had police cars everywhere (so clearly this is where they do that 'training', we continued to figure), and somehow we ended up behind a Toyota Prius. So as the Prius slows down the gal on the bicycle decides to pass it on the right. This, folks, is a huge no-no on a bike, or anytime, really, but especially on a bike. A great way to get yourself run over. Thankfully the Prius driver saw her in time and simply let her pass. I overheard one of the nearby police officers (there were several going this way and that) say something like "be careful, you're not the only one here!". Just after this I saw a police helicopter parked out in the field off to the left. Hmmm, must be having helicopter training too? That is odd. Oh well. I still have a wall to climb.
A few more miles and we finally got to ride alongside the ocean. It was a surreal scene. The only thing you could see is ocean on the left side and beautiful green pasture (complete with cows, no less) everywhere else. I couldn't put my finger on it, but somehow you just don't expect these two things together. It was like we went back in time or something. Weird. The ocean was beautiful, even with hints of Caribbean turquoise blue coloring in places. I don't remember seeing that on Oregon or Washington coastlines. At one point we had cattle on both sides of the road actually running in our direction as we rode. Perhaps they had a wall to climb too.
And then it happened. I saw it off in the distance. Amy knew it was coming so she was trying not to make eye contact. She didn't want to encourage it any. I couldn't take my eyes off it. Didn't seem so bad at first, but as we kept getting closer it kept getting bigger and steeper. Eventually even Amy saw it. It was just impossible to avoid seeing it. We arrived at the rest stop at the foot of The Wall, topped off on water, did a little stretching, and decided to take on the 800-pound gorilla once and for all.
It was hard, but thankfully it was manageable. I was more worried about Aim than anything. I knew if she had to stop for any reason, it was so steep it would be tough (if not impossible) for her to get started again, due to having to lock cleats into the pedals. So I had it in my mind that I would help her. And that would mean I would have to get started again. And I didn't want to do that, so I really hoped she would not stop for any reason, like a big pothole or a rugged section of road, which was everywhere. It is this sort of circuitous thinking that happens on a long climb, you think about silly things and before you know it you are, well, okay, you are nowhere near to being to the top, but you at least made a little progress and didn't even notice how tough it was for a moment or two.
Profile and slopes: |
I did notice a couple cyclists that started up The Wall ahead of us. They were riding up serpentine style. I don't think they were avoiding dinosaurs, rather, their gears must have been too tough, so they were going back and forth to minimize the slope as much as possible. It apparently worked, but I did observe two downsides. I saw one of them bite it when trying to make his zig, or maybe the zag. Tipped right over, perhaps getting his tire off the road or maybe catching the edge of a pothole (yes, this too was horrible road). I also saw one of them on the left side of the road as a pickup, which had already gotten around Amy and I, was trying to get around them next. The poor pickup driver didn't know what to do so he waited. The cyclist stayed on the left side of the road, so eventually the pickup went between the cyclist on the left and the 3 or 4 other cyclists on the right.
We were getting up toward the top of The Wall when I felt a cool breeze. It was very nice. The face of The Wall had been still air and the sun was beating on our backs. I was sweating bullets and couldn't take my hands off the bars to wipe my brow or even remove my sunglasses as it was too steep. Then I saw something I didn't like. I didn't like it one little bit. I saw a short section of gravel road. Did I mention it was steep?
I knew Amy wouldn't like it either, so I started coaching her, saying things like "you can do this" and "remember, nice smooth pedals strokes". She said afterward that it helped, but I think it was probably good for me to hear those things too. Self coaching as it were. For those not familiar, a road bike on gravel is less than desirable. A road bike on a steep section of loose gravel is a nightmare. We somehow made it through and I was proud of both of us. I think there were a couple more of these, but only one of them was both super steep and had loose gravel (as opposed to hard dirt or lightly covered solid rock, if you know what I mean).
The post-wall descent was somehow even nastier than the mid-ride descent. The only thing better about it was that it was shorter, but that was partly due to it being even steeper. And I suppose all the switchbacks helped keep your speed down so as not to pop out an eyeball on the super nasty bumps and potholes. The sections of gravel were good for that too. Remember that kilojoule thing earlier, the percent of braking vs. pedaling? For the section of road that encompassed The Wall, both the ascent and descent, braking energy was 68% of the pedaling energy! In other words, if you like descending on a bike, this was the absolutely worst ever descent.
At some point either before or during The Wall Amy had warned me about all the climbing after The Wall. This was a good thing. Had she not warned me I think I would have turned around and tried to jump off The Wall into The Ocean. On the ride map the organizers called this next climb the "Endless Hill", and boy did they get that one right. It just kept going and going, up and up. It started out steep too, with several switchbacks. The Wall slaps you around and the Endless Hill punches you in the gut. Thankfully the higher you got the more gradual the slope became. You would come around a corner and there the road is, still going up. Another corner, still going up. Each time I went around a corner I would see the short section ahead and tell myself "well I can at least do that much." This happened at least a dozen times. Perhaps it was a blessing not to see the entire Endless Hill all at once.
We must not have looked that great while ascending the Endless Hill, because more than once a vulture came amazingly close to us. Funny how you see them all the time but never up close. That is a good thing, folks, because up close those suckers are big and ugly.
The descent after the Endless Hill was perhaps not as bad as descending The Wall but right up there on our list of Worst Descents Ever. The three big descents on this ride are now at the top of that list. The obvious upside to this particular descent (no pun intended, truly) was the fact that once completed we would be done with this ride.
And THAT was a very good thing indeed. We now know why they claim it is "California's Toughest Century"! I have no doubt that it is.
| RIDE MAP IN GOOGLE EARTH: |
| Maps showing all rides: 2013 • 2012 • 2011 • 2010 • 2009 • All Rides |
UPDATE: Here is a link to the official results. You will find Amy and I at spots 169 and 170 on the list. Based on that elapsed time our total amount of non-moving time (resting, eating, stop signs, etc.) was 1 hour and 4 minutes. I find it hard to believe it is that high; then again, we did take our sweet time at the 60 and 80-mile rest stops... (If you read this paragraph don't tell Amy I said that because she would take exception to my use of the word "we" in the prior sentence.)
UPDATE 2: Here are some additional photos taken of us on this ride. You can actually see my new bike in some of these. I should have won a prize for the best color scheme. Cars should have no problem seeing me now with my clashing red bike, orange jersey and blue helmet, with lots of white and black thrown in for good measure.
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