The Death Ride
It all began some time ago, early in the summer. Fast Eddie asked The FeMan if he would
be interested in doing *THE DEATH RIDE*. Anything with a name like *THE DEATH RIDE*
immediately caught The FeMan's interest. He was in search of new adventures and this
sounded like a wild one.
Well, after finding out more details The FeMan wondered if he was addled or something.
*THE DEATH RIDE* was aptly named: riding a bicycle in the Sierra Nevada mountains, at
altitude, over 5 passes and with 16,000 feet of climbing, and covering a total distance of
129 miles. He talked with an ex-coworker who he trusted and determined it was possible for
mortals to do. In fact, it was possible for more than 2700 mortals to do, with some turned
away!
Never one to leave fitness to chance, The FeMan set about preparing for *THE DEATH
RIDE*. This mainly entailed lots of hill riding. He planned a weekly ride-to-work that
included hills, he whined and cajoled to get the Troublemakers to include hill training
rides. (This was entirely appropriate since both Fast Eddie and The Hammer were also going
on *THE DEATH RIDE*.)
These hill training rides were new adventures and pieces of old stuff put together in
interesting ways: riding to Sunrise at Mt. Rainier, then to Chinook Pass; riding to
Enumclaw with bypasses up Cougar Mountain and Tiger Mountain; an incredibly circuitous
route spanning hills east of Redmond (and at a ferocious pace with Fast Eddie).
As the time for *THE DEATH RIDE* grew closer The FeMan began to have those old doubts
and fears again: Was he prepared? Had those hill rides been enough? Would there be a storm
in the mountains? What to bring? Would it be too hot? too cold? What kind of support would
there be? Etc., etc.
The Big J and The FeMan determined to go early and do some walking in the California
mountains. As an additional benefit The FeMan would get some altitude acclimitization.
The walking was all that could be imagined, and more. Big, tall, snow-covered
mountains. Cool mountain air, incredible vistas. The wildflowers were in bloom, the
mosquitoes were not yet out. The only disappointment was the incredibly ugly development
around Lake Tahoe. Such a majestic place to have such grossness.
But this is another story, one about challenge and accomplishment.
The Big J and The FeMan arrived at their lodging place a week before *THE DEATH RIDE*.
The place was filled with Independence Day vacationers who all cleared out the following
day. At that point there were very few residents.
A number of hikes occupied the week leading up to *THE DEATH RIDE*. Then *THE DEATH
RIDE* participants began to show up. It was easy to tell who they were because they had
road bikes. *THE DEATH RIDE* tension began to build as more and more riders arrived,
assembled their machines, and made test rides up and down Meadow Drive in full view of The
FeMan.
The day before *THE DEATH RIDE* was check-in day. Fast Eddie and The REI Guy were
supposed to arrive early on check-in day; The Hammer would arrive late on check-in day. At
check in, The FeMan and The Big J found Fast Eddie and The REI Guy in the crowd. They also
met Santa Barbara Joshua who would be part of the group (perhaps an honorary
troublemaker?). The tension continued to build with all the riders milling about, looking
tough.
There was a group dinner on that day, before The Hammer showed up. Good conversation,
good food, and everyone got to meet the Stinson Beach Olivers.
*THE DEATH RIDE* day arrived and the riders were up early. By 4:00 am, The Meadows was
a beehive of activity as the riders each performed their personal morning routines.
By 4:35 The FeMan and Santa Barbara Joshua were on their way to the ride start.
Hundreds were already present as The FeMan pulled *THE DEATH RIDE* truck onto the road
shoulder so that he and Santa Barbara Joshua could get their gear together for the ride.
After finishing preparations, they rolled down the hill to find Fast Eddie, The Hammer,
and The REI Guy. Fast Eddie was bundled up and shivering in the early morning cold, The
Hammer was joking, and everyone else was excited, but subdued.
The ride start was mellow as this group rode uphill to the start area and flowed into
the crowd, after The Hammer left a roadside offering.
The pre-dawn chill penetrated deeply as the ride route almost immediately started
downhill with a long coast through Markleeville and across the East Fork Carson River.
Then gently uphill to the turn up to Monitor Pass and an immediate increase in steepness.
The overall speed of the riders dropped considerably as riders downshifted and started the
long ride up to the summit of Monitor Pass.
Santa Barbara Joshua had grown impatient with the slow pace of The Troublemakers early
on and moved ahead at his own pace. Fast Eddie, always ready to challenge, had jumped on
and chased Santa Barbara Joshua up Monitor Pass.
The Hammer and The FeMan stuck together up Monitor and discussed such erudite items as
a scientific study to determine the altitude of a ride by the number of spit blobs on the
road. They posited the Spits per Mile Index (SPMI) to indicate the altitude. Sounds like
something worthy of a large research grant.
At the summit of Monitor Pass both The Hammer and The FeMan stopped for a moment of
honor at the headstone like summit marker, then began the first big descent of the day,
down to the Nevada side of Monitor Pass. The 9 or so miles flew by with sweeping vistas,
sharp turns, and a quick moment of fear as the Disk Wheel Rider swept by at a tremondous
rate of speed.
As The FeMan approached the aid station/turn around he heard Fast Eddie call out his
name.
Fast Eddie was close and could be caught!
The FeMan made his way through the crowd to get water replenished, grabbed a little
food, hopped back on his bike, and headed uphill with Fast Eddie foremost in his mind.
Those miles which had gone by so quickly on the way down were much slower on the way
up. As The FeMan scanned the line of riders ahead he saw a red bike fitted with black aero
wheels. The rider was standing up a lot while pedaling, but was too far away to be clearly
identified. This rider was The FeMan's first goal. As he drew closer, he debated whether
this was Fast Eddie. No, he finally decided. The Red Bike Man was too tall and Fast Eddie
was way too smart to spend so much time standing up.
Well, just gobble him up. Which happened.
On and on uphill. Not bad, just work. After the lower canyon section, the landscape
opened up and the steepness of the climbing let off. The FeMan was able to "get it in
the big ring" and pick up the pace.
Another red bike! Was it Fast Eddie?
Yes! Yes! There was that characteristic pedal-pounding stroke. The FeMan's pulse
quickened as he drew closer. Fast Eddie looked around and knew he was caught.
Together, they rolled onward to the Monitor Pass aid station. The food, water, and rest
were most welcome. As the pair prepared to leave, they called out "Hutch,
Hutch!" several times in hope that The Hammer would be there and hear his pet name.
Since there was no response, they started the descent of the California side of Monitor
Pass. What excitement: high speed cattle guard crossings, rough road sections, rocks on
the road, ascending riders, and always a thought of the stray cow on the road.
At the bottom the riders made a left turn and immediately started up the first Ebbetts
Pass climb. The first few miles were mellow, gently rising as they followed the river.
There was much welcome shade as the sun was now well up and forewarned of much more heat
to come.
Then around a curve, across a cattle guard, the road loomed up like a wall! There were
groans from the crowd and much clicking as everyone shifted into lower gears. This was
just a taste, just a nibble of what was to come. Relentless and unending, the road
continued to climb steeply upward. There were corners so steep, The FeMan thought he might
slide off the road sideways. Both Fast Eddie and The FeMan were taunted again and again by
false summits, but found the road continuing its upward course.
Then it was there! A glimpse of some traffic cones and surveyors tape marked the last
corner and the final rise to the summit of Ebbetts Pass. A huge crowd of cyclists was
scattered about, trying to collect sunlight and courage for more riding as they hydrated
and fueled up. A background chorus of frogs croaking accompanied all the activity.
As Fast Eddie and The FeMan soaked up sun, Santa Barbara Joshua saw them, having just
finished his ascent of the second side of Ebbetts Pass. He passed on advice and
encouragement to the flagging pair, raising their spirits. Just after he left The Hammer
arrived and was greeted with cries of "The Hammer is here!" And "All
welcome The Hammer!" from Fast Eddie and The FeMan.
Although the descent was only about 5 miles, all three were concerned about getting
chilled. As a consequence, each donned leg warmers, arm warmers, and jackets for the
downhill ride. It was cold and the extra garments were welcome.
After a quick break at the turnaround, the trio quickly ate, drank, shucked excess
clothing and started back up the hill. What seemed so short coming down, sure dragged on
and on going up. Both The Feman and Fast Eddie were feeling kind of frisky at this point
and started challenging each other. First one, then the other, would push the pace. A half
mile or so from the summit, The FeMan managed to break away and rode on to the rest area.
After 4 big climbs, all were feeling a bit woozy. This was a lot of work!
More drinking, more eating, more resting, more discussions. With a word of warning from
Fast Eddie to watch out for wobbly riders, all three mounted their bikes and dived down,
down, down from the cool mountain heights to the heat of the river valley.
During the descent it was clear that the effort was beginning to tell on some of the
riders. Several were observed walking their bikes, one very near the cattle guard wall
section. This was going to be a long, long day for those folks.
Next stop was lunch. Big appetites, but limited capacity. Somehow a turkey sandwich
just wasn't that easy to get down. Chips and Cytomax seemed to hit the spot. Fortuitously
filling his water bottles after filling himself, The Feman joined the other two and rolled
on again. Fast Eddie led the pack down the last quick paced descent, then led the
Troublemakers to the back of a very fast-paced quartet of riders.
Latching on like glue they followed the pack as the group rode along at 23 to 28 mph.
What a relief to have someone else do the work! As the front riders pulled off they
signalled to come back into the line in front of Fast Eddie. No problem, if they wanted to
do all the work, just sit back and suck wheel. (This thought from The FeMan who was
sucking wheel from the very back of the pack.)
Eventually pride got the better of Fast Eddie and he moved up to take a turn at the
front. Just as his turn was ending, the group encountered the first of the hills back to
Markleeville and the pack broke up. It was quite clear that all were quite fatigued. Fast
Eddie, however, was starting to feel frisky in the heat. He continued to charge ahead and
soon was at the front of a group of about 50 riders, leading the way back to Markleeville.
What a sight as those pounding legs led the long string of riders uphill!
With nary a cloud in the sky, all fear of being caught in a July blizzard vanished. As
they rode past their cars on the approach to the last big climb of the day, all 3 dropped
off excess gear: leg warmers, arm warmers, excess tires, whatever. Consolidate food, stuff
bike jersey pockets, then head out.
The road to Wolfords was pretty much downhill, so it was possible to get up some really
good speed. Crossing the highway and starting uphill once again, it was clear that the day
was far from over. The FeMan had imagined this part to be less challenging than previous
climbs because it seemed so benign. Hah! Climbing is climbing whether on a wide, smooth
road or a narrow curving one.
Seven miles to Picketts Junction, the last stop before Carson Pass. The FeMan and Fast
Eddie pushed each other to the rest stop and were eager to stop. It had been a long, dry
ride from the lunch stop. A tent was set up with folding chairs underneath. Each chair was
occupied by a tired looking cyclist. Scanning all the faces, it was clear that the strain
was beginning to show.
Fast Eddie applied first aid to his blistered toe and both ate and drank. Then The
Hammer was there and was greeted with loud calls of "The Hammer is here!" The
unknowing demanded to know the truth and were shown the mark of the hammer which adorns
his bike.
"Now it's tool time," muttered the unknowing.
Both The FeMan and Fast Eddie thought this was really humorous as both broke into load
laughter. Should Fast Eddie be a socket wrench, The FeMan a screwdriver?
All too soon it was time for the last 10 miles to Carson Pass. It was flat and fast for
the first few miles. For the first time all day, The FeMan found that he could get down on
his aero bars and just pedal. And pedal he did. Soon there was a line of riders following
him and Fast Eddie along the flats.
Gradually the road angle steepened and the final 2 miles or so to the summit loomed
ahead. Tiny little riders could be seen against the rocky cliffs as they wound up and up.
Never able to leave well enough alone, The FeMan and Fast Eddie again began to mess
with each other's minds, each pushing the other as they worked up the final few hundred
meters. The FeMan recognized the summit rocks from his numerous crossings of the pass, but
Fast Eddie didn't. With only 200 meters to the top, The FeMan shifted up a gear and got
out of his saddle. Fast Eddie answered the challenge, and more, as he was first to cross
the summit.
A short coast down past the summit and they were at the rest area.
This one had frozen confections! The FeMan had a Fudgesicle, Fast Eddie numerous frozen
delights. The FeMan scrounged through the proffered foods, looking for salty items to help
calm the quivering in his legs. He scored some chips and they really hit the spot. Washed
down with Cytomax, the combination settled him down. That, and the fact that almost all
the remaining 20 miles were downhill.
Then The Hammer was there and greeted with cries of "The Hammer!". Shaky,
worn, but ready to attack. He rested, reset his internal thermostat, fueled, and hydrated.
Those 200 meters back up to Carson Pass seemed awfully hard as they started out on the
final leg back to rest and dinner. The wide curves of the highway swept away, back down
into the valley. All The FeMan had to do was lie down on his aero bars and point downhill.
Gravity did the rest.
What a sweet sound to hear tires thrumming on the smooth pavement and the wind whipping
past.
The angle of descent lessened and it was possible to spin. And spin he did. Then Fast
Eddie went charging by.
Was it never over?
The FeMan answered the challenge and jumped on to him. As Fast Eddie slowed up just a
little, The FeMan swept by and just thrilled to the ride to Wolfords. The roads were
clean, wide, open, and smooth so it was easy to roll fast.
They made the turn onto the road to Markleeville and the cars and rode side by side.
When Fast Eddie's car came in sight he shifted into his "big ring" and stood up
to charge the last 100 meters. The FeMan shifted into his "big ring" and
followed.
*THE DEATH RIDE* was over. Within a couple minutes The Hammer was there. The REI Guy
was already at the car and looking mighty refreshed. All told each other how hard the day
had been, then headed off to dinner. The FeMan rode on to his car where Santa Barbara
Joshua patiently waited, wanting to change from his sweaty cycling clothes.
Over dinner there was much more telling of tall tales and recounting of effort. Then
all headed off to a night of well earned sleep and fond memories.
It was over; *THE DEATH RIDE* was over for the Troublemakers. Undoubtedly there will be
many more re-tellings of *THE DEATH RIDE* day's events in the future as the Troublemakers
relive this day again and again.
The FeMan was pleased to see how well he held up to the challenge. The day
after the only lingering physical effect was a sore butt. That will heal and the memories
will remain.
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