It starts out of Clovis, just east of Fresno in the Central Valley, and proceeds to the top of Kaiser Pass at about 9,200 feet. It's about 156 miles with 13,500 feet of climbing. But most of the climbing takes place in 65 miles.
The Fresno area has a reputation for being very hot, so I booked a motel room for 2 nights. $40 a night for an air conditioned room with a kitchen, fridge, queen sized bed, and cable TV so I could keep up with The Tour. I still economised by taking a big homemade veggie pizza with me! Are all cyclists cheap or is it just me?
Death Ride? Schmeth Ride! This was WAAAAAY harder! It's quite a hardcore event unlike the DR which is "popular" and attracts recreational riders; only a couple of hundred people do the C2K. It starts off with about 20 miles of flat, and immediately a paceline forms which barrels along at about 28 mph. If you miss it, you're off the pace for good. We get a good taster with Wildcat Grade, which is supposed to be a hard climb, and WOULD be in any other context. 4 miles long, and up to 13% grade. On the C2K, we're just wetting our whistles at this stage, and although the peloton has mysteriously evaporated, it's taken at a fast pace. I start to pass people. At the rest stop at the top, I have to pee, and take on some food, and get passed right back when people just storm through without stopping. Hmmm. Is this a ride or a race? I think I have to re-think my day!
A few miles further along the road, I miss a turn off, and luckily a support vehicle comes to stop me, and put me back on track. We wind along the valley, and begin to climb gently to Tollhouse, where we get more food, and delicious homemade Tollhouse cookies! Tollhouse Grade is where the real climb from the Central Valley to the Sierra Crest begins. The grades reach the teens, and people settle down into their real pace. No posing here! We climb for miles and miles and miles at very steep grades. I pass a lot of people. No great rush, no attacks, you can't attack on this grade (at least I can't)! Just ride tempo, and if you've done your training, your tempo will be higher than someone else's.
I pulled back about 15 people on this climb, and on the approach to Big Creek, was told I was 9th on the road. I was at my limit trying to hold the wheel of a big, tough looking racer at this stage, and after the Big Creek rest stop, I fell off his wheel. I don't think he liked me being there anyway, he seemed to be muttering, and ranting and swearing, though I couldn't hear what he was saying. I offered to pull through on him, and he just said "nope". The grades went up into the HIGH teens! It varied, but apparently there's one mile of full-on 17% and it's a climb of several miles! These are not tourist roads. It's an access road to a dam holding back Huntington Lake. Beginning at the dam, the road contours along the beautiful lake side, and we get a lunch stop down by the lake in the cool shade of the pine trees.
This ride has the best support ever. Perhaps it's because I'm among the leaders, but we all get treated like royalty. They park our bikes, take our camelbaks or water bottles, and fill them for us. The volunteers make sandwiches to order, and bring them to us at picnic tables! It's altogether too comfy, and I have a good 20 minutes eating sandwiches and pasta and fruit. We are now at just over 6,000 feet, and we are approaching the final hard climb of the day, the dead end road to Kaiser Pass.
I finally take off with an Irish guy called Keiran. He's another hard looking bloke, and after chatting for a while, he soon pulls slowly away from me. I ride at my highest tempo, and nobody else passes me, and I pass one more person. Again, the grades rise to the teens, and every pedal stroke is like a leg press even with my new 11-28 tooth block specially purchased for this event!
The last mile is painful in the extreme. The grade increases where the engineers thought, "Ah f**k it, let's just go straight to the top from here!" I arrive at the summit breathless with my tongue hanging out.
"How are you feeling?" the volunteers ask.
"Just shoot me now!" I reply
They anxiously take my shades off and look into my eyes and ask me my name, and the date. People can get extremely poorly at this altitude even without cycling up the hill!
The volunteers ascertain that I'm OK, and take my camelbak and fill it, and bring me choc chip cookies and a banana. They wash my shades for me which are opaque with sweat! I am the 13th to arrive at the summit! If I'd taken a "racing" break at the lunch stop I'd be even higher.
I still haven't dismounted, and I'm tempted to grab some cookies and get on with what has turned into a race. After a couple of minutes, a sense of reality sets in. Hey, it's just a bike ride, I'm supposed to be having fun! I sit down on the lawn chairs thoughtfully placed in the shade of the pines by the organizers. Once again I'm waited on hand and foot, and a volunteer brings me a huge cheese, turkey, ham, salad, mayonnaise and mustard whole wheat sandwich. I sit around for a good 45 minutes enjoying the cool, clear air, chatting to riders, exchanging stories and encouragement.
One guy from Berkeley told me about his first organized endurance ride: The Terrible Two! He knew nothing about proper hydration and nutrition, and finished the ride in an exhausted state. On the drive home, he began to feel drowsy and pulled over and lay down. He actually slipped into a coma! He found that he couldn't wake up. He said he was half conscious, and aware of worried people knocking on the windows of his car, but he couldn't move!
After a while, a guy who I'd ridden a few miles with on Tollhouse Grade arrived. Dave was a local, and riding a classic bike with down-tube shifters. We sat around for a while, then set off down the hill together. The descent was of epic proportions as befits the pain of the climb! Downhill for several miles to Huntington Lake, then a small climb to Tamarack Ridge at about 7,500 feet. This was a mere molehill compared to what we'd done, so we cranked it fairly fast. The descent down Tamarack Ridge was exhilarating. Miles and miles of smooth, curvy roads. I was relaxing down on my aero bars; my HR dropped right down to about 65, and my speed topped out at about 47 mph!
When the road levelled out, I hung back to wait for Dave, and paced him along the shore of Shaver Lake, until we saw some people up ahead. I went after them and dropped them both on the rise to the rest stop at the Shaver Lake Church. I waited for Dave, and we relaxed for bit. He seemed a bit reluctant to get going again, and I think he was getting seriously tired. I had had my workout for the day racing for the summit, so I decided to ride with Dave. Towards the end of a long ride, I notice people seem to hang together more. At first you see people as adversaries, and as your placing evens out, and you see people a few times as they pass you and you pass them, you begin to feel more like team mates.
Descending down to the valley floor is like slowly getting into an oven. We had some rolling ridges, and some winding descents. I time trialled the ridges at high speeds with Dave in tow, and on the descents, we both seemed to have equal ability, and we dropped a couple of people never to see them again!
Once out of the foothills, it's rolling terrain back to the final rest stop 14 miles out from the start/end point. I am really psyched to pick up some time, and with Dave on my wheel hit time trial mode again, and pass a couple of groups. At the last rest stop, I am so psyched with my feeling of endurance and power that I forget to eat. One banana would have done it. 2 minutes of munching would have been enough. Damn!
I started out pulling at about 25 mph, but after 4 miles, I bonked, and asked Dave to go to the front. By this time, he was looking quite pale and ill. He said he was getting dry heaves, but he went to the front, and tried to pull for about 15 minutes while I ate some apple newtons and drank lots of water. Pretty soon, I started to feel OK again, and went to the front. Dave was wilting now. We were about 6 miles from the end, and he was shaking, and I had to push him to get him started at the junctions, and sit bolt upright in front of him at about 12 mph to keep him going.
The sun was merciless, and with 4 miles to go, we stopped in the shade of some trees to rest for a minute or so. The last 4 miles was taken at a very steady pace, and the grassy, shady Letterman Park, where the ride began and ended was a welcome sight. Dave basically collapsed whimpering and moaning, and some volunteers put an icepack on his head, and wet towels round his neck and tried to get him to drink. He was dangerously exhausted, overheated and dehydrated!
Having recovered from bonking, I felt fine, and tried to get Dave to drink and eat, but all he could do was lie down hyperventilating, and whimpering. I tried to make him comfortable by spraying him with water, and forcing him to drink coke, and he seemed to relax.
There was a barby going, and the volunteers had as many great grilled, garlicky chicken breasts as you could eat along with hearty chili. I pigged out, and after my first helping, went to my car and collected my customary post-ride celebratory beer, and put it into the cooler with the Cokes and Mountain Dews. 10 minutes later when I went to look for it, it was gone. Scanning the tables I saw someone drinking it! I quickly retrieved it, with only 2/3 gone... humph!!!!!
Dessert was apple pie, and I sat there in the cooling evening watching exhausted riders either roll quietly in, or posse in at high speed. Hah! If they were that energetic, then why were they finishing an hour after me?????? I saw some familiar faces from the Sacramento Wheelmen roll in. Gilbert and Lynn on their tandem finished a while after me. Gilbert was in a bad way, dehydrated, cramping, and looking grim!. Pretty soon, fellow Wheelmen, Ed, Frank, then Richard arrived, all looking quite cheerful.
The sunset was exquisite, clouds were clustered in the west, glowing a rosy pink, and as you followed the sun's rays eastwards, the clouds broke into puffs, breaking the light into golden beams which fanned out onto the mountains. Each cloud was slightly darker the further from the sunset you looked, and the whole sky ranged from peachy red, to plum purple. What a great end to the day!
Next hard ride on the calendar: The Leadville 100. Colorado, here I come!
Cheers,
Nigel