September 10, 2018
Halfway, Oregon to Lake Wallowa State Park
The Sum of All Fears
Day Two of Cycle Oregon was on everyone's minds and part of every conversation the minute we rolled into Halfway. CO was not soft-selling the nature of Day Two: Seventy-eight miles (eighty-four if you rode the optional loop to the Hell's Canyon Overlook) and about 7,400 feet of climbing on the longer option. In the tent city, those of a mathematical bent did the calculations and announced that there was slightly over 30 miles of climbing, and it was impossible to miss that the day's first climb was - *gulp* - 18 miles in length. Yes, 18. Miles. Up. Followed not much later by another climb that was 9-10 miles in length. "Hmmmm," said Marg and I. This kind of terrain was foreign to us, and we weren't sure whether to be anxious or ambivalent.
Here in Wisconsin there are (spoiler alert) no mountains. Many folks think Wisco is flat-ish or stocked only with a few rolling hills. In many sections of the state that is true. But in the SW corner, bending up toward the mid-central, lies the Driftless Area. That is the geographic name for the territory around which the ice age glaciers made an end run, and did not bulldoze the land flat. Instead, an endless number of ridges, coulees, moraines, crags and knobs lay waiting for the unsuspecting cyclist. Though a climb of even a mile is rare in the Driftless, every damn climb seems to be 12% - 16% in gradient. Some pitches can exceed 18% and head up to 20%. They are soul suckingly steep, but short. Just when your quads are about to lock up and send you toppling over, you are on the back side of the hill screaming down at 45 mph.
Marg and I have ridden several century rides in that kind of terrain, so we thought we'd be fine for Day Two of CO, but .... an 18 mile climb? Yeesh.
At the nightly rider meeting an announcement was made that breakfast would be served at 5:00 AM instead of 5:30 due to the desire of many riders to get going on the day's ride. That certainly amped up the anxiety around the tent city. Everyone was hitting the sack quite early except the young bucks who happily closed down the beer tent. I heard the first cell phone alarms begin popping off at 4 AM (seriously people, 4 AM?!?), followed by the zipper and velcro serenade of tent flaps, sleeping bags, and stuff sacks being stowed & organized. Their owners were eager to wolf down breakfast and get on the road to start serving penance for all their biking sins. Marg & I were not the most enthusiastic responders to the sunrise, though we did stagger out at dawn (hell no we were NOT arising before the sun came up). We soldiered on and did what needed doing, and were on the bikes and rolling by 7:25 AM.
The first 10 miles were mercifully flat along Pine Creek, a gorgeous little stream. Everyone happily pedaled into the low rising sun and although the temp was in the low 40's, the mood was upbeat. It was at almost exactly the 10 mile mark that we hung a left onto the benignly named North Pine Road and started the 18 mile climb.
After three miles Marg and I looked at each other and exclaimed "Pffft!" ... or sounds/words to that effect. This was nothing! A steady two to three percent grade, but, C'Mon, it was only two to three percent! After a lifetime of climbing the Walls in the Driftless, this was cake. Absolute cake. So along we rolled, and rolled, and rolled, and rolled and rolled ...... 7 miles, 10 miles, 13 miles, 15 miles until .... GOOD GOD ABOVE WILL THIS %!$#!& CLIMB NEVER END????? The easy peasy 3% grade had crept up to 4%, then 5% and then a few kickers of 6%, and though it backed down to 4% IT NEVER ENDED. It was like water torture. Drip. Drip. Drip. We'd been climbing without respite for, like, nearly two hours and we still had three miles more. All of a sudden our bodies were just crumpling into themselves. We agreed that this style of slow death was much like the proverbial frog in the pan of water. The heat was turned up so slowly the frog never realized it was being boiled to death until it was too late. That was us.
The 18 mile climb eventually ended, and after a rollicking great descent, was immediately followed by the 9 mile climb (about which we had conveniently forgotten) that was another hour and 20 minutes of slow motion grinding and grunting.
We now understood. We submitted, surrendered, succumbed .... we had been assimilated by the mountains. We bowed down to the mighty and relentless marrow sucking power of the Long Climb. All Hail the Long Climb! We had never been so pleased to reach the finish line. When we got home I checked my Strava account and looked back at what I considered to be my gnarliest climbing day ever in SW Wisconsin. It was 130 miles with 8,862 feet of climbing. That equates to about 68 feet of climb per mile. Today's ride, though "short" in comparison, (84 miles with 7,500 feet of climb) worked out to 89 feet of climbing per mile ... 30% more than my former "toughest" climbing day. Although I still challenge anyone to ride a 1/2 mile climb that averages 16%, I'd still prefer to have that dished up to me than the 18 mile Monster.
That night in the tent city, we noticed everyone was making a beeline for their sleeping bags at the end of the day. A lot of folks had been out there for a long time. Our day had been 9 hours and 18 minutes (including down time) and we talked to a lot of older and/or slower riders who had been out there for nearly 12 hours. That takes some serious Grinta right there my friends. Everyone felt a sense of accomplishment though, and they deserved it!
Today's ride: 84 miles (135 km)
Total: 139 miles (224 km)
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