MORE 2012 YEAR-END PHOTOS

Besides having my sixth book come out ("75 Classic Rides: Washington") and wrapping my head around our family's upcoming move to Luxembourg (more on that in the coming days), I'll remember 2012 for several things: 1) the new folks I added to my ever-widening circle of cycling friends, 2) the trio of amazing fall gravel grinders we rode, and 3) my foray into the Bellingham cyclocross scene. Here're some pics:

I rode to Artist Point a bunch this summer. This is early August when I rode from Kendall with Reg Norbert, the Legendary Tom Meloy and John Pottle; ...

... and this is two weeks before that with Pat Skaggs and Steve George (himself, also of the Legendary persuasion); ...

... and two weeks before that with Titanium Cancellara. As you can see, the Artist Point parking lot had yet to be plowed clear. (We couldn't wait.)  

Also in July, I had the honor of hooking up for about 20 miles with the Chain Gang, some Atlanta-based riders in their 60s and 70s who were finishing up an 800-mile multi-day bike trip with a ride through Whatcom County to Lynden. Inspiring folks! 

Oh yeah, almost forgot about the super-early (6 a.m.) weekday rides throughout the summer with Grandmaster Glenn Gervais and his crew. Here we are mountain biking on Galby but we also rode Chuckanut Mountain and got in a few road rides too.  

And of course, there was Johnny Boy Clark and late July's Tour de Whatcom.

August brought the gravel grinders. On the hottest day in recorded human history, Brian Ecker, Scott Young (both too legendary to even begin to get into) and I rode an amazing 82-mile Winthrop-Conconully loop that reached heights of almost 7,000 feet. (We gained more than 10,000 feet in all.) 

It was seriously the bomb and probably one of the top-5 most strenuous things I've ever done. 

A couple weeks later, Brian and I ground our way to the top of Slate Peak, above Harts Pass, on the highest road in the state. 

After a 5,500-foot climb fom Mazama, we reached Slate's 7,488-foot summit where we were treated to amazing views.

Speaking of views, check these out from a September gravel grinder to Twin Lakes/Winchester Mountain with Glenn and Steve VanderStaay. 

After pedaling the steep, rugged, chopped-up road to Twin Lakes (passing the Yellow Aster Butte trailhead along the way), we ran-slash-hiked the 1.5-mile trail to the Winchester Lookout. A highly recommended duathlon of sorts.

September was also the Mount Baker Hill Climb. 

The best Northwest summer weather I can remember lasted into October and gifted us with this early fall day on which the Titanium Cowboys headed for Blanchard Mountain above Samish Bay.

When fall finally did hit, I filled it with the dirt and grass and ... 

... sand and ... 

... mud and pain and ... 

... falling of cyclocross.  

December brought more cyclocross, the Deception Pass 25K and more adventures with the Titanium Cowboys. Happy New Year! Looking forward to an amazing 2013!

THRILLER CROSS AND SERVING TWO MASTERS

I'm thinking that Saturday's Thriller Cross at Bellingham's Civic Field is a good time to break out the fringed cowboy shirt. Its last appearance was at the '09 Padden Mountain Bike Duathlon (also known as the most painful hour-and-10 minutes known to man), as seen above. Ryan R. is encouraging a zombie or Christmas theme at Thriller Cross and since I'm not much for zombies, the red is sorta Christmasy. Ish. 

Still feeling the effects of last Saturday's Deception Pass 25K. I'm finding that trying to serve two masters--that of cyclocross racing and of long-distance trail running--is tough. One is short, hard and intense (CX) and the other is long, slow and requires more recovery (trail running). In recent years, for the most part I'm  90-percent rider/10-percent runner from about February to September. In fall, I get it in my head that it'd be cool to do a couple trail races--the last two years it's been Deception Pass and Orcas Island--at which time I become about a 40-percent rider/60-percent runner. 

But this year I also became totally obsessed with cyclocross. It was pretty hard not to, what with Ryan Rickerts putting on seven races practically in my backyard. (Two of them are within a mile of my house.) Thus, getting in long runs before Deception Pass was tough. I think I had one 90-minute run, one 2-1/2-hour run, and most everything else was an hour or less. But I tried to make them intense hours--either track workouts, interval sessions on the treadmill or just hard tempo runs. Still, as race day approached I was dreading it. 

Brian Ecker, a Bellingham coach and cyclist extraordinaire, tried to allay my fears by telling me that cyclists always think they need to run more than they really have to to perform well in a running event. That if they've been getting a lot of fitness through their riding, they (I) don't really need to get out for weekly two- to three-hours runs leading up to race. Ha-ha to that, I thought. That's good for you, Mr. Annual-Winner-of-Tour-of-the-Unknown-Coast, but not for us normal, average, everyday folks. 

Turns out, Brian was exactly right! First of all, I was super pleased just to finish. (Before the race, I figured that if I'm not feeling good, I'll just cut my race short by turning right after the second crossing of the Deception Pass bridge and head back to my car.) Secondly, I was super pleased to have enjoyed myself the whole time. (I remember that at the previous year's event, I had fun for the first hour-and-45 but that after that, it was a Death March to the finish.) This year, I dug the race the whole time--the island views, the swirling boil of water below the bridge, the forest, being out in the community of cheery trail runners, etc. Thirdly, and lastly, I was super super pleased to beat my last year's time by 11 minuted and to finish in under three hours! So, thanks Brian. Much appreciated!

My serving of two masters continues: Thriller Cross this weekend, with Chiller Cross and Orcas Island 25K in January. Wish me luck!        

SEATTLE TIMES CONCONULLY STORY

Click here to enjoy my Seattle Times story on last month's epic gravel-grinder ride to Conconully with Scott Young and Brian Ecker.

MORE PHOTOS, DETAILS FROM HART'S PASS-SLATE PEAK RIDE

Above are a couple panoramic shots from the top of Slate Peak taken with my fancy-pants Samsung Galaxy S III phone. (Of which, frankly, I don't feel worthy.) In the top photo, Brian Ecker, who made it to the 7,488-foot summit some 40 minutes before me, sits in the sun protected from the wind by that small building. Though it was 70 degrees down in Mazama where we started, at the top of Slate--which is 5,500 feet higher--it was 46 degrees!

Heading out. Our start/finish point was on Lost River Road, across the street from the Mazama  Store.

This was at the start of the lower narrow, scary section. This Harley dude appeared to be considering heading up but thought better of it and stopped. 

Such an amazing ride!

Good luck to everyone riding tomorrow's Mount Baker Hill Climb (Ride 542) and High Pass Challenge!

HART'S PASS-SLATE PEAK BIKE RIDE REPORT

Almost at the top. The last 0.3-mile to 7,488-foot Slate Peak is narrow and steep, averaging 16.5 percent!  Oh, and the road surface is slippery , powdery gravel that one's tires sorta sink into.   

Brian Ecker at the start of the hour-long descent back down to Mazama. About 10 years ago, I got a  flat tire on my pickup truck right on this stretch. That remains one of the most terrifying moments of my life. Riding this on a bike, however, was absolutely no problem.  

Smiling writer guy atop Slate Peak. The middle-of-the-mountains feel from Slate is absolutely  overwhelming  and I daresay unlike any other place I've ridden my bike.

Made it! GoPro handlebar cam records me making it to the top. By this time, Brian's bike  had been leaning against that post for probably 40 minutes. 

Brian on the descent.

Brian descends, Slate Peak in the background. That final pitch has stretches to 27 percent!

At the top: A closed lookout tower, a building with the highest elevation graffitti in the state, and Brian.

To folks planning on driving Hart's Pass Road, this might as well say: Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here. But to those on bikes like Brian and I, no biggie.

I sorta have to admit, I got a bang out of passing car after car on the descent.

Unfortunately, this photo doesn't really show it, but this is one of two especially narrow stretches that gave me an agida-anxiety attack a decade or so ago when I drove this road. It's actually fairly low, about 3,400 feet, but is a half-mile of pothole-riddled, bumpy scariness. (The other is the flat-tire stretch I pointed out earlier.)   What I realized yesterday was that were you to go off the side in a car, you'd roll and tumble over and over again and you'd most likely die a bloody deathly death. On a bike, however, you'd be scraped up, sure, but wouldn't ragdoll down the mountainside or anything. If you've ever ridden Burnout Road, it's similar to that last really steep stretch that's somewhat exposed--I'd never ever want to drive that, but on a bike it's no big deal.    

Altitude sort of has a weird effect on me ...

Another Strava KOM for Brian Ecker. All in a day's work.

Stupendous scenery: Get thee to Hart's Pass-Slate Peak!

Here's our route/stats:

NEXT UP: HART'S PASS BIKE RIDE

The recent 82-mile Winthrop-Conconully epic whetted my appetite for some more Methow riding and well, if you're gonna go big, might as well go as big as you can get: Hart's Pass Road and Slate Peak. Topping out at 7,440 feet, the gravel road is the highest road in Washington State. (The road to Sunrise in Mount Rainier National Park is the highest paved one.)

 

It's a much shorter excursion than the Winthrop-Conconully loop. On Sunday a.m., Brian Ecker and I (along with hopefully one or two others) will head out from Mazama and just pedal uphill for about 21 miles 'til we hit Slate Peak, climbing close to 6,000 feet along the way. Admittedly, this has the potential for hair-raising scariness.

 

I've driven this road once and near had a heart attack given its skinny narrowness, pothole-riddled bumpiness and cliff-edge exposure. To cap it off, I got a flat tire right when I hit Slate Peak and had no idea whether I had a spare. (I did.) On a bike, I'm hoping that the road seems wide, comforting and relatively dreamy. I guess I'll find out. I plan to stop often and hug the mountainside if that's what I need to do.

 

NOTE: I want to thank the just another day in paradise blog for the above Hart's Pass Road pic. Beautiful!

 

MORE WINTHROP-CONCONULLY SCHTUFF

It was hot. And it was hilly. Our first 30 miles we climbed like 6,000 feet as temps climbed higher and higher into the mid-90s.

It might have been last year (or the year before?) when I first saw Conconully on a map and became obsessed with riding my bike there. 

About 23 miles in, Scott Young pedals up Forest Road 39 toward Freezeout Pass.

I'd heard that Brian Ecker had ridden it and well, anxiety-prone as I tend to be, I screwed up my courage and sent him an e-mail inquiring about the route. Ecker, btw, is an absolute machine on a bike with wins and podium finishes in races such as Furnace Creek 508, Tour of the Unknown Coast and many others. I'm sometimes intimidated by absolute machines on bikes but I have to say Brian couldn't have been more friendly and helpful. He sent me maps; shared tips, advice and route options, and the capper: he said it was one of his favorite routes of all-time. That sealed it: I had to do this ride.   

The last few scorched-earth-looking meters to Lone Frank Pass at about mile 33. Views north to Skull and Crossbones Ridge and far beyond into North Central Washington are stunners.

But how to bring it together? I wasn't going to ride it by myself and figuring out a time when John Clark, Scott Young (the Titanium Cowboys) and I could all get away together just wasn't happenin'; various fun (yet pesky) summer vacation thangs like trips to Costa Rica and Southern California kept getting in the way. Then, Brian sent out an e-mail inviting any and all on a Winthrop-Conconully "mini-epic" that he and Paul Clement were planning for last Saturday. I decided (gulp) to jump on it. (Unfortunately, John was doing that Costa Rica thing and Paul ended up crashing his bike just days before and couldn't join us.)    

Downtown Conconully. The chamber of commerce website boasts of its four restaurants, "3 of which are taverns".

Re: the particulars of our ride, at 8 a.m. we headed north from Winthrop (Scott and I on 29er mountain bikes, Brian on a beefed-up 'cross bike) on paved East Chewuch Road for 9 miles before turning right on Forest Road 37, which immediately begins climbing. After 6 miles, pavement ends and the next 25 miles--which includes 5,000 feet of elevation gain--are dirt road in various states of washboardy-ness and sandy slippery-ness. Along the way at mile 22, we hopped on FR 39. (FR 37 continues to Conconully as well--it's 5 or 10 miles shorter--and I'd be interested to try that route some time as well.)

Weatherwise, we knew it'd be hot but sorta tried not to dwell too much on that fact. Temps were about 80 when we started and just got hotter and hotter 'til it reached 102 by the time we hit Conconully. It was furnace-like and I couldn't help but be reminded of last year's Shasta Summit Century experience.

Brian and Scott pedal past Conconully Reservoir before beginning the FR 42 climb to Loup Loup.

Back to the route, at Salmon Meadows, we picked up FR 38 which offered a paved, fun fast 9-mile descent into Conconully. Truthfully, there's not much to the town beyond its intriguing location. Obviously its setting is beautiful--nestled in the forested mountains next to a lake and reservoir (there's a state park too)--but I feel sort of silly for getting so excited over this tiny town that kicks off its annual community events each MLK weekend with Outhouse Races down Main Street.

Anyway, we reached Conconully at the 50-mile mark and loaded up on Coke, Powerade, water by the gallon, candy bars, sandwiches and the like. In terms of climbing, all we really had left was the 3,000-foot climb toward Loup Loup Pass on FR 42. Given that we'd already climbed about 7,000 feet, and that I've ridden the 3,000 foot climb to Artist Point several times in recent weeks, I thought I'd be in good shape. How wrong I was.

Brian and Scott at the top of the FR 42 Loup Loup climb.

The 10-mile, mostly unpaved climb was brutal. The heat, the mileage, the climbing, the slippery traction, the heavy packs we carried (?) caught up to Scott and I and we were like two punch-drunk boxers at the end of round 15. We'd cramp like crazy, get off and walk for 50 feet, pedal a bit, cramp a bit, walk a bit. Etc. Scott had a killer headache and I had that Ironman-slash-long-day-in-the-sun nauseousness; neither one of us were exactly lovin' life at that point. Eventually, we made it to the top where we found Brian, shoes and helmet off, just lying in the shade; according to Strava, he'd gotten there about 40 minutes earlier. (Strava also revealed that it took me 30 minutes to do the toughest 1.1-mile stretch of that climb; Brian rode it in 12!) 

At the top, we had just 20 miles to go and thankfully all but two miles of it was downhill. After descending dirt FR 42, we turned right onto FR 4225, which led to FR 1624 and the last 600-foot stinger of a hill. But at this point--despite having 71 miles and 10,000 feet of climbing in my legs and absolutely no power to speak of, I didn't really mind it. Scenically, it was stunning; the dirt road cut through the Methow Wildlife Area as the late afternoon sun bathed the sagebrushy and cottonwood hills in a comforting gold. Cresting the last hill, the whole Methow Valley opened up before us and it was a great feeling to know we had it in the bag.

  

Back on pavement, we followed Bear Creek and Twisp-Winthrop roads back into town, Brian telling us that the last time he did this route he was greeted here by 40-mph headwinds. 

Not today. Thankfully, not today.   

I loved this route, this day, this ride and would highly, highly recommend it. It's tough, no getting around it, but the views are amazing and its high odd/unusual quotient make it real appealing.

(Facts 'n' figgers: The route is 82 miles with 10,471 feet of elevation gain; 51 of those miles are gravel road. My ride time was 8:01:03; total time: almost exactly 10 hours. In post below, Strava has it at 11-plus hours but that's because I hit my Garmin start button before we rode to the Rocking Horse Cafe where we sat by the Methow River sipping foofy espresso drinks and watched some early-morning hot-air balloon riders. We started the route in earnest at 8 a.m. and got back to town almost exactly at 6 p.m. We were splashing about in the Winthrop Inn pool maybe 15 minutes after that.)