The cooler temps
hit with a vengeance and it is amazing how sixty degrees on a sunny morning can
be fine in a short sleeve jersey but sixty degrees on a cloudy, breezy morning
can freeze your cowbells off. 
Crisp morning
I set off after
breakfast with sleeves on and a wind jacket in my pocket. After a steady ascent
of the Winthrop Trail I enjoyed the roller coaster singletrack of the Patterson
Lake Trail. This trail is one of Brad’s
favorites and I can’t wait to share this route with my German brothers next
summer. The Black Pine Lake loop has it all.
After the lake I
join onto Elbow Coulee which had the best surface I have ever experienced on
that gravel road. I could fly with
absolute confidence. Then after a brief
section of pave’ I was onto Poorman cutoff and soon I was climbing up Poorman
Canyon.
Oops, a March flashback......
By now my
sleeves were off and during the climb I unzipped my jersey and let it flap. Why they even make jerseys with less than
full zippers is unknown to me. The
surface was better than it had been when El Chefe’ and I contemplated killing
Mr. T. in the spring of 2015.
I got myself
into a good rhythm and got to work.
Despite the holiday weekend there were only a couple trucks heading the
opposite way and they let me pass with ease.
The grade was pretty constant with minor fluctuations to keep you honest.
I was working my
hip flexors and trying to keep a good cadence. I took note when I finally
reached the first switchback (900 meters above sea level) as well as the
highest elevation (1250 meters) at the lake.
I kept myself in Zone 4 for nearly all of the climb and felt strong.
When I topped out
I finished my second bottle. I chomped down a bar and prepped for the
descent. I zipped up, put on my sleeves
and wind jacket and pointed my front wheel downward. I was glad for every piece of clothing I had
on. It is much easier to steer and brake
when your hands are not hypothermic.
After passing
Black Pine Lake I noted the descent has four right hand corners, all signed,
worth slowing down for. The first three
are on gravel and the last one, though paved featured a lot of loose sand and
pine needles that could potentially ruin your day.
At the bottom of
Buttermilk canyon I rejoined onto the paved Twisp River Road and headed east,
downriver. This is a good recovery and
gives you an opportunity to believe you are feeling better than you really
are. This false sense of fitness is a
precursor to making bad decisions.
At this point
there are two gravel options to get back to Winthrop. One is to make the gradual climb up Elbow
Coulee, retracing your start. The other
is to make the climb up Thompson Ridge Road which is an absolute sting in the
tail for this loop.
I stopped and
stuffed my jacket and sleeves into my jersey pockets and gathered my courage
from my diminutive suitcase.
Leveraging the
previously mentioned euphoria I opted to climb up Thompson Ridge Road. I had put in a good effort on the hour long
climb up to Black Pine Lake and this would be another solid half hour of upness.
I silently committed myself to making a good effort and swerved off the
pavement and began the typically loose climb that starts off with a
ridiculously steep section. The incline,
crappy lines and loose rocks combine to make you question yourself. Nothing
like contemplating giving up less than a minute into a thirty minute climb. My
powers of denial are strong and I persevered.
I took it right in the face!
My legs reminded
me of the earlier climb up Poorman Canyon but I told my legs to shut up. I got
out of the saddle only to have my rear wheel spin. “Sit down and pay the price,” I thought to
myself. Blah, blah, blah…. you just go
faster.
There is a brief
respite that parallels the Twisp River Road before twisting upward into the
mountain. Instead of relaxing I built up
some speed and then turned north and it was on.
I settled in and welcomed my good friend, Mr. Hurt.
I hadn’t done
this route since dropping a couple kilos before the Dolomite trip and was
hoping for a personal best on the climb.
The road was sandy and there were a couple washboard sections that just
zap your strength and crush your mojo. I
had to pay attention to picking good lines which gets harder when you throw in
hypoxia.
I was in a
Zen-like state and to be honest I was enjoying it. I didn’t have McWoodie or Einmotron pulling
away effortlessly so I could pretend I was going fast. The sky was cloudy so I
wasn’t baking. It had grown darker but I
had not noticed because I was so focused on my effort. I heard some thunder behind me, much further
east. “Cool,” I thought to myself.
As I got closer
to the top there was another clap of thunder except now it was right over my
head. I didn’t smell burnt ozone or
anything but it wasn’t far away like the one five minutes before this one was
right here.
“I need to get
off this mountain,” I thought. I
quickly considered my options for a rapid descent. I had to keep going hard to the top of course but after that I would head down......
I came upon the
Meadowlark trail junction and took it. I
then took the faint trail that is the Pine Forest cutoff. Gnomes and locals can spot it, others don’t
even see it. That trail is barely there but it kept going. Not a lot of switchbacks so it was steep but
my brakes were working well. When I came
upon some ruts I took a high line to avoid the rock-filled rut.
Suddenly my
front wheel slipped on the loose stuff and went down into the rut and I was on
my left side on the ground. I had been
going really slow so there wasn’t any drama.
I stood up, brushed off and in fifteen seconds I was back underway.
By the time I
reached the gate that opens into Pine Forest I did note a couple spots were
feeling sore. Adrenalin had come and
gone following the fall.
The sky was
still dark and I was expecting rain at any moment. I could see across the
valley that it was raining on the Rendezvous and part of the Chewuch. My original plan to ride the first part of
the Fondo would have put me under that rain.
I would like to claim wisdom but
in fact it was a warning from Brad on the washboard condition of the road that
had motivated me to head south instead of Northwest.
As I approached
the cabin I kept looking to my left at the ominous clouds over the mountains
and counting myself lucky to be dry. I
had cut my ride short by a few kilometers but I was satisfied with the day’s
effort.
I know the
secret for the Winthrop Fondo is to keep my powder dry on the first climb so I
have something in the tank for the final climb.
Saying and doing are different things.
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