Hill Training: My Epic Semi-Fail

Over the summer, one of our local bicycle clubs runs what's officially known as the (In)famous Wednesday Night Hill Ride: a loop "encompassing the gnarliest hills in the Boston Metro area." Of course the route does not belong to them and lots of local cyclists who want to cram some serious hills into a relatively short ride use it to train on their own time, particularly racers and randonneurs. Back in July Somervillain began riding this route with a small group as practice for the D2R2 and invited me to join. At the time the very notion was laughable. Me, on the Infamous Hill Route? The women's paceline rides were hilly enough for me, and those were described by the same bicycle club as "mostly flat" (ha!).



But definitions of "hills" are subjective. Fast forward a few months, and mine too had changed. Having gone on a handful of rides with some strong local cyclists, I even developed a new fondness for hills and no longer outright hated them. So when Somervillain suggested the two of us try the Hill Route before the snow arrived, it suddenly seemed like a great idea.What can I say? I am human, I got cocky.



Things started off innocently enough. My level of excitement was almost festive. Finally, I was going to do "real" hills, like the "real" roadies. I managed to get organised and dragged myself out of the house to meet Somervillain at an ungodly morning hour. The temperature was blessedly mild in the high 30s. The sun arose picturesquely over the local Dunkin Donuts parking lot as we convened in front of it on our trusty steeds: he on his '80s Trek racing bike, I on my Moser. It was going to be a great ride! A nice 30 mile ride with some hills in the middle. As we took off, I had a smile on my face (hint: it did not last).



Let me tell you about the Hill Training Route. The part with the proper hills is a 12 mile loop and the elevation profile looks like this. But no technical description or chart can communicate the subjective experience of this ride. The build-up was uninspiring, as we cycled along some ugly main roads with fast suburban traffic. After about 10 miles of that, we turned onto a narrow residential street and began the first climb up a small mountain. The climb began suddenly, and, being out of sight from the main road, there were no visual cues that allowed me to psychologically prepare for it. We turned the corner, and bang! - the very turn itself was already the beginning of a steep, twisty hill. The narrow road wound around the mountain instead of going directly up it, so there was no way to see what was around the bend. Would it get steeper or let up a bit? And how much longer to the top? Not knowing this drained my self-confidence and increased my anxiety tenfold. In addition, there were potholes the size of craters, and I had to zig-zag gingerly around them as I climbed.



My bicycle is geared fairly high (52x39t in the front and 12-26t in the rear), but still I did not expect to max out my gears quite so early on. Click-click-click! Click! And I was done. From that point onward there was no spinning, only pushing, and I still had most of the hill ahead of me. So I pushed on the pedals and heaved myself forward in jolts.



Promptly, my body began to rebel. A pain shot up straight to my right temple, so intense that it clouded my vision. I had a strong urge to throw up. My leg muscles felt as if someone was injecting them with acid. Somervillain was way up ahead of me and around the next bend. I felt intense shame at being so hopelessly terrible at this, even after all the rides I've done to build up to it. I did not see how I could possibly keep going at this rate, and only a stupid, primitive sense of pride kept me pushing. Thoughts such as "Do not stop the bike!" and "Like hell you're going to walk!" were the only things circulating in my otherwise empty mind.



At the top I felt nothing. No elation, no sense of accomplishment. Maybe some anger at my naivite ("You needed to do this, did you? Racers describe this ride as "infamous" and you decided this meant it was suitable for you?"), but otherwise nothing. I drank water and looked around blankly for Somervillain. Somehow I'd managed to lose him. Could he have taken a different side street to descend? I cycled around the maze of streets along the side of the mountain, climbing some smaller hills for no reason other than to keep warm. I was now shaking violently. Then it occurred to me that we both had phones. I phoned, he picked up immediately, we realised what had happened to separate us and agreed to meet back at the base of the hill. It was pretty apparent to me that I could not continue the ride, and he could hear it in my voice as well. I cycled down to meet him with my head hung low and my face a deep crimson.



I am not entirely sure how we ended up repeating the climb (yes, you read that correctly). I think it may have started out as a suggestion in jest. But long story short, we climbed the same hill again. Oddly it went easier the second time around, despite my utter sense of depletion. Maybe knowing what to expect made it easier. Once again I maxed out my gears and pushed myself up in jolts the whole way, but with a clearer sense of when to expect an end to the hellish ordeal. In the last stretch, my breaths were coming out in audible heaves: Hee! Haw! Not unlike the sound of a tortured donkey. And then again it was over. At the top we stopped in a parking lot behind a small, shabby water tower. I tried to eat a piece of an energy bar, but nearly threw it up. I did drink more water and kept that down. My hands were trembling. We agreed that we were done for now: descend carefully, then back to Somerville. Two difficult climbs was not so bad given my lack of experience.



Cycling home, we transitioned to the Minuteman Trail and enjoyed the glorious sunshine. We chatted casually about this and that and began to contemplate where would be the best place to stop for coffee.



And then I opened my mouth and said: "You know what? I am not tired anymore. This always happens, I begin to feel more energetic at the end of a ride."



And he said: "Oh yeah? Do you feel like going back and doing the last climb of the route then? We have time before I need to be at work."



And I said... Well, what could I say. I couldn't exactly back out of it at that point! So we rode to Arlington Heights for the last climb.



This climb was very different and I am so glad I did it. It was a big, open road that went straight up instead of winding, and I could see exactly how far it was to the top. It was a steep climb of about a mile and again I maxed out my gears fairly early on, but somehow it was just a more rewarding experience. This road had nice scenery and a more pleasant atmosphere; I just felt better riding there despite the same horrible pain in my legs and the same shortness of breath. Seeing that I had about a mile of this ahead of me, I somehow "settled into" the climb and relaxed. The entire time I was thinking "Oh my God, am I actually... enjoying this?" Somervillain was way ahead of me of course, so I had no illusions about my speed. When he stopped at the top and turned around to check how I was doing, I gave a thumbs up and smiled.



Upon reaching the top, I was delighted by the sight of a beautiful stone water tower surrounded by a small park. I had never been here before, and it's always nice to discover a new scenic spot. Suddenly, everything began to seem okay, even funny. It wasn't so bad. I really should have done the middle two climbs of the route instead of bailing so early on. To make me feel better, Somervillain pointed out that we'd really done more like 3 out of 4 climbs, since we did the first one twice. Plus we'd cycled 30 miles over all. Let's call it a modified route. After taking some pictures, we descended down a monstrous hill with a view of the Boston skyline, climbed another short but steep hill, and then cycled home for real with a quick coffee before parting ways.



On my way home I stopped by the Co-Habitant's office to say hello. He laughed and said I was incoherent, clearly still coming down from a post-cycling high ("and then... and then... there was a TOWER! And I almost gave up, but... tower!")



Sigh. I guess I should be grateful that even in my 30s I can enjoy the little things. I am pretty terrible at this roadcycling stuff, especially hills. But God, I love it anyway. We'll be doing this ride again. And thank you, Somervillain!

A Visitor to My Campsite

Wednesday July 20, .. - - After leaving Guilford Lake and Columbiana County I leisurely drove north and west through Ohio, stopping for the night at Maumee Bay State Park a few miles east of Toledo. The temperature started out in the mid 70s and continued to climb all day long. I thought of just continuing with driving but I had already been on the road for eight hours. I was able to select my campsite at Maumee Bay State Park and found one that had a little bit of shade. It helped. A little. But the 100 degree temperature and high humidity made it very uncomfortable.



Very briefly, I thought about joining the crowds at the beach but it would have meant having to leave the van closed up in the open sun. I just didn't think it was worth it. A nice breeze would make its appearance every now and then and as the sun made its way across the sky, the shade lengthened in the campsite cooling the area off just a little.



At one point I noticed something on the picnic table nearby. I couldn't quite make out what it was and it stayed there for quite some time. Eventually, I got up and took a look and saw what it was and grabbed the camera.







Go ahead, double-click on the image to view a larger version. You know you want to. The wings are pretty amazing, so thin and delicate.



The dragonfly patiently waited while I moved in closer and closer with the camera. Finally, after half a dozen shots it jumped up, landed on my hand for an instant and was off to explore its own little universe. It was doing its job well – that of eating mosquitoes and other small bugs – so I wasn't bothered too much by them.



In between wiping the sweat (and it was sweat, not simply perspiration) off my brow (and elsewhere) I sipped a tall glass of a cool beverage and waited out the sweltering night, hoping that the next night would be just a little cooler! The temp when I crawled into the van for the night at 10:30 pm was 96 degrees. When I got up the next morning at 6:30 am it was 84 degrees. It was a rather uncomfortable night, to say the least. Not complaining. Just saying ;-)

Off Road on the Edge of the World

A couple of days ago I accidentally completed a 6 mile off road ride along the coast of Antrim. Without question, this was the most challenging bike ride I have done to date. I would not have attempted it had I known what was in store for me. But it was also the most beautiful, breathtaking trail I have ever been on.






It happened like this: One morning I decided to ride to the Giant's Causeway, which is about 12 miles away. I took the direct route on the coastal road. The first part was a tedious climb, then a long descent - both with glorious water views. When I was almost at the end, I spotted a sign for Dunseverick Castle and stopped to have a look. The setting is very interesting, and I walked around a bit photographing it. The light kept changing every 5 minutes, so the colours in all my pictures from this day are crazy and I decided to leave them that way. The landscape here really can look neon green one moment, then golden or drab olive the next.





Like most structures described as "castle" along the coast of Northern Ireland, Dunseverick Castle is actually a ruin. There is an overview platform from which visitors can observe it from the road (people do coastal driving tours here...). And next to this platform is a sign indicating that there is also a walking trail - leading down to the castle, then continuing right along the coast to the Giant's Causeway.





I looked at the trail. It was grassy and appeared pretty tame. The Giant's Causeway didn't seem that far off. So I decided to go for it on the bike.





The trail ended up being 6 miles long, with no exit points along the way. As far as cycling, I would describe it is as not for beginners. I spent maybe 40% of it on the bike and the rest walking, or crawling. The initial stretch of grass quickly narrowed to a rocky, twisty single track along the edge of a massive cliff overlooking the Irish Sea.






There were also long stretches of loose, chunky gravel. There are no flat, straight sections along this trail - it is either uphill or downhill, and all twisty. Honestly, I found the terrain extremely challenging. Going toward the Causeway, the trail is mostly downhill and the ground beneath me was unstable due to the mud, roots, rocks and loose gravel. It was scary to experience this combined with constant twists and turns as I cycled alongside a cliff. Also, at some point the hub gearing on my Brompton started coming out of adjustment (now fixed), and I did not always have use of my lowest gear. This made some of the uphill sections on loose gravel impossible, so I walked them. I also walked a couple of the trickier downhill stretches. An experienced mountain biker could have maybe done 80-90% of the trail on a bike, but I am far from that status.




It did not bother me to walk with the bike when that was what I had to do. I had a heavy bag with me, and I was glad to roll it along on wheels rather than carry it on my person, as I would have had to do had I chosen to hike this trail. Despite the stunning views along this trail, there were not many hikers around. Most of the time I was completely and utterly alone, with no other human forms visible in any direction. I encountered three groups of ramblers total, and they all expressed horror at seeing me with a bike. "You need to turn back," a German couple warned, "it is not bike territory ahead." I knew exactly what they meant, because I had already gone through that kind of territory.






Along this trail there are occasional stairs built into the hills. They look like this, sometimes worse (longer and steeper). There was one particular set of stairs where the grade was too steep to walk upright, so I had to sort of crawl up them with the bike on my back.






Since the trail passed through farm territory, there were also occasional stone fences with stiles to climb over - essentially wooden ladders placed over the fence. These were a little shaky, so I had to hold on to a pole with one hand (taking care not to grab the barbed wire instead - of which there is lots) while carrying the bike in the other. All through this, it was of course freezing cold and raining intermittently.





Well, what can I say. One must have a sense of humour about things like this. Sure, the description of the trail could have warned there would be crawling and flights of stairs involved. But that would have spoiled the surprise element, wouldn't it. Ultimately it was more engaging to "discover" the trail this way rather than reading all about it in a guidebook first.





The day was hazy and my photos don't do the landscape justice. But this hidden gem of a trail showcases the raw beauty of the Antrim Coast better than any other site I have visited so far. It is extreme. It is dizzying. And not just the heights alone, but the colours, the smells, the forms and textures.





And it truly does feel like the edge of the world:The trail is set back from the road by endless glens. You cannot see civilisation; only the edge of a cliff on one side of the trail and pastures on the other.






Gorse bushes grow everywhere, their saturated yellow contrasting dramatically with the steel-gray sky.






It took me over 2 hours to get to the end of the trail, including all the climbing over fences and stairs, as well as constant stops for photos. By the time I reached the end point, I was exhausted and badly in need of food. The funny thing is that when I got to the Giant's Causeway itself it was absolutely unphotographable: Every inch of the majestic formation was covered with tourists. How odd that people will drive to it just to get out of the car for 5 minutes and have their picture taken on the rocks, but ignore the stunning trail that showcases the full extent of this area's beauty. Also, the entire site next to the Causeway is covered in construction at the moment. They are building a new, enormous visitor's center and while this is happening the area is a chaotic tangle of construction crews and tour buses and hordes of disoriented visitors. Dust flying everywhere. Yikes. I quickly bought an ice cream and got the heck out of there, deciding that I'd come back to see the Giant's Causeway at 6am next time to avoid the crowds.






The trail from Dunseverick Castle to the Giant's Causeway is technically a hiking trail, not a bicycle path. In truth, it is more suitable to hiking unless you have nerves of steel and serious cyclocross skills. Still, I am glad I did it this way and I admit that I feel a tremendous sense of accomplishment (I also still feel wrecked 2 days later, but that is another story). As far as the bike's suitability, I find that the Brompton rides surprisingly nicely off road and is easy to control on downhill turns, so if anything I am more comfortable on challenging terrain on this bike than I would be on others. Another obvious advantage of the Brompton on a ride like this, is that it is small enough to carry when necessary. I would not have been able to drag a full-sized bicycle (especially a mountain bike) up and down those stairs and over those stone walls. Next time I visit this trail, I might hike - or I might do it exactly the same way but try to stay on the bike more. This was by far the most difficult ride I have ever done, but it was also the most rewarding. When the two go hand in hand, it is pure magic.

Still Fighting With 5.9+: Jean (again)

(Photo: Trying to get psyched beneath the crux roof on Jean (5.9+), back in August.)



In my last post I wrote about my unexpected triumph over my first trad 5.10 lead, Beatle Brow Bulge. This was a great milestone for me. My onsight success climbing this soft 5.10 also made me wonder if the old rumor might actually be true:



Is 5.9+ in the Gunks harder than 5.10-?



Earlier that same day I found a reason to believe the rumor. The lesson came courtesy of my second attempt at Jean.



Back in August I'd attempted to lead Jean, but I hadn't liked the pro for the crux roof and I'd bailed without attempting to lead over the ceiling. I'd wanted a piece at the lip or above the roof but the best pro I'd been able to get was under the roof and to the right. I felt like a fall from just over the roof would result in a sideways landing onto the slab below the overhang, which would quite likely result in injury.



After giving up on the lead I'd tried the crux on toprope and found it to be not that difficult. Above the roof are a couple bad crimpers but then you get a great jug. I started to think that blowing it might not be so bad after all, because if you fell it would happen at those first couple of poor holds, before pulling over the roof and not too far from your gear.



I resolved to go back before the season ended to get redemption and conquer Jean.



Fast forward to November. With the end of the season coming quickly I figured if I was going to exorcise my Jean demons I had better get around to it soon.



But my memories from August were fading and I wondered if I'd really be any happier with the gear this time around. I decided to start a thread on Gunks.com asking about the appropriate gear for Jean. I'd read that there used to be a ball nut fixed right at the spot where you pull over the roof. I know nothing of ball nuts, but I thought maybe I could place one there myself, so I asked the wise climbers of Gunks.com which ball nut I should buy.



The consensus seemed to be that the cam off to the right is good enough, and that I should forget about the ball nut placement.



Armed with this information I felt somewhat reassured, but only somewhat. When our climbing day arrived I knew that I had to attack Jean right away or I was going to lose my nerve, so when we got to the Trapps parking lot I told Adrian that I wanted it to be our first climb of the day. We found it open and I went right at it.





(Photo: Here we go again. I'm hanging instead of trying the crux on Jean, this time in November.)



I felt strong as I got started. There is a cruxy little 5.8-ish move about halfway up that gets you established in the shallow corner system that leads to the roof. The pro for this move is totally solid, and while the move has pretty good hands, the feet are smeary. In August this move caused me much hesitation but this time, in November, I committed right away.



So far so good.



Then I got up to the pocket right under the roof and placed the key cam out right without too much strain. With this bomber pro in place, I should have been ready for the crux.



Determined to send, I reached up to the shitty crimper with my left hand...



and I couldn't make myself go for it.



Again.



The crimper felt so lousy. And I still didn't like the thought of that fall.



So I downclimbed a step and rested for a minute without weighting the rope. I still wanted this redpoint, in the worst way. I gathered my courage and tried again.



Such a bad hold! Was it this bad in August?



I chickened out for the second time and took a hang.



So much for that redpoint.



I must have repeated this routine once or twice more, going up, testing the hold, not liking it, retreating, and hanging.



Finally I decided to shorten the draw on my top piece of protection. I figured drag be damned, I need to reduce the potential fall. This decision gave me a certain amount of additional (and perhaps irrational) confidence. With the fall distance shortened by a foot or two I could commit to the moves and found them easier than I remembered. The bad crimper feels from below as though you'll pop right off it but once you crimp hard and commit, it isn't so bad. Shitty crimper left, shitty crimper right, then shelf, then jug and you're done. The crux is over in a few seconds.



I left Jean frustrated that I didn't get it clean. But I told myself I'd made progress. At least I finished it on lead this time. And my failure to redpoint had nothing to do with any inability to do the moves. It came down to a lack of faith caused by a combination of that crummy crimper hold and sub-optimal pro. Maybe my lack of faith was actually, in retrospect, completely justified. I wonder if that ball nut placement is necessary after all; theroof movemight bean ankle-breakerwithout it.



Even though I haven't conquered Jean, I don't thinkI need to go back to lead it again. I don't know what I would be trying to prove. And I might be risking a needless injury, unless I buy that ball nut...



IsJean a sandbag at 5.9+? I am torn. The climbing isn't easy. It isn't nearly as sustained as Beatle Brow Bulge. But those two crimps over the roof on Jean are less positive than any of the holds on Beatle Brow Bulge. Jean may require a little more technique, and a cooler head.

HAPPY 4th of JULY from CUSTER, SD!

Today was a work day - Gary worked 7-3:30 and I was scheduled 2-10. The lodge was booked completely and everyone was in. After giving out the number for the medical center for someone whose kid and fallen and put a gash in their leg and giving directions to another whose kid had cracked their head open on the fireplace mantle I hoped it wassafe and we closed the office early to go see the fireworks in town.

This is the "Hollywood" Custer sign at the top of Pageant Hill

Slow moving thunderstorms were coming thru the area causing flooding in some areas and quarter size hail. We were lucky and the dark clouds parted over Custer so the fireworks went off without a hitch.

Hope everyone enjoyed their 4th of July!







Till Later!

Meanwhile, we keep on Trek'n

Melissa and Gary

Aldwincle circular via Titchmarsh and Islip

Led by Mel, with me, Norma, Brenda, Gordon and Maureen. Very warm, pretty flat, two breaks. Just over 8 miles in all.



We set off from Aldwincle tea-room, turn left from the car park, then cross Main Street and turn right down Baulks Lane, which takes us down to Lowick Lane, where we turn right. Soon we go through the car park on our left for the Nature Reserve, and then along the track. Once through the gate into the reserve we turn left through the trees, and follow the main track - we have a quick look in the hide, but can see little but distant ducks and swans, so continue. Before long we turn left and cross the river. It looks clear and deep, with fish swimming in and out of the water weed. Almost tempting.

Weed and reflections in the river

We walk southeast towards the A605 - a busy road to cross before we take the road into Titchmarsh village.

Church of St Mary the Virgin, peeping modestly from a veil of trees

We haven't walked far yet, but it's hot, people would like more water, and there's a community shop.





The helpful woman behind the counter suggests we can sit outside, and then I spot that the shop sells coffee. This temptation is not to be resisted. Unfortunately we can't agree on biscuits, so we make do with the drinks.













Definitely not resisted. A great place to stop on a hot day. But we can't hang about all day - there's walking to be done. Onward.

A couple of hundred yards along the High Street, and there's the footpath, going off to our right, through a stile/gate, past a small allotment, and a few sheep, then over another stile. We follow the edges of a field, and the path soon takes us over a minor road, then further down to another crossing of the A605. When we arrive at a lake we turn left - walking south west, just north of Thrapston.



We have another break by the skateboard park, sitting on a shady stone. I could get used to these two-break walks in the sun.

It's a duck's life!

Over the bridge by the mill, and up Mill Lane on the edge of Islip.

View from the bridge

Very pretty alien invader - Himalayan Balsam.

We turn right along Ridge Road towards Aldwincle. At the start of the woods we take the path to the right, and walk as far as the river. We keep this on our right and go past Aldwincle Lake and Heronry Lake on our left. We rejoin our route from this morning just before the bird hide, and retrace our steps back to the cars.

The need for more speed!

For those anxious readers interested in yet another story of a climber who has set yet another new 'unofficial' round trip summit speed record, please read on. For the rest of you who are tired of hearing of such drivel, we suggest you continue reading anyway and perhaps you still may find the story interesting. Besides, how can you ignore such an amazing feat? A person climbs to the summit of Mount Rainier in under 3 1/2 hours, and then descends to Paradise in just over an hour, resetting the speed record to 4 hours, 40 minutes and 59 seconds.

For comparison, it takes most folks 5 hours just to make it UP to Camp Muir, never mind to the summit and back to Paradise again in less time! Can you imagine the feeling of being lapped on a day hike by someone who has summitted? Then again, the person running past you on the Muir Snowfield is Guillermo (Willie) Benegas, an international guide, sponsored member of the North Face team, and highly accredited guide with the American Mountain Guides Association (AMGA). Benegas' climbing portfolio is impressive. Among other credentials, he has been a guide with Mountain Madness for 10 years and is the previous speed record holder on Aconcagua... Oh yeah, he's climbed Everest seven times and leads expeditions up numerous peaks over 26,000 ft.

For more information and an account of the ascent by Benegas, check out his interview in The News Tribune.