Reloaded and ready for more
In 2014 I rode the Winthrop Fondo. That year it was on the old course and the
event was held in June. It was hot, but
the elevation kept the temperatures cool enough that only on the final climb up
Lester road was it uncomfortable. In 2015 a handful of us did it and lived to
tell the tail. In 2016 many of us did it
as a group and had a great, though predictably shattering, experience.
El Jefe' in 2016
For 2017
we opted to assemble the same weekend as the Fondo, but instead did a five hour
gravel ride as a group instead of seven to nine hours of hurt punctuated by
cramps and cursing.
This is much better than killing ourselves.....
For 2018 we again chose the Fondito (little Fondo)
option. We still had a full day that
left us spent, but the ride did not shorten our expected lifespan.
McWoodie, Marcel and Einmotron came over on Friday
morning and met at Cramps place. They
were all eating lunch when I arrived and before long we were in costume and
racing along the trails on the valley floor.
We had a rollicking good time that included single track
with short steep climbs and winding ski trails that allowed for stinging
accelerations and “look out ahead” cornering.
We hit some late summer duff and
the resulting cloud totally obscured the heavily rutted trail. Marcel went down and was lost in the
cloud.
Heading back to Mazama we were all down in the drops and
drilling it as fast as the winding trail would allow. I was fortunate to be able to anticipate the
familiar twists and turns and felt bad for those who did not. After our ride Cramps had to head back to the
waiting perils of city life.
The next day The Punisher and Coz arrived and after some
coffee and vittles were ready to partake in a heaping helping of gravel.
Under grey skies we rolled out with food in our pockets
and extra layers just in case the skies opened up. We climbed Lester and then up and over to
join Beaver Creek. This was just the
start of our riding and we topped off our bottles with some water we had cached
for just this occasion.
Then the serious climbing started as we made our way
toward Starvation Mountain. Up road
4225, then up 4230. The endless series
of false summits would have broken our spirits if we didn’t have the beauty
around us to remind us why we were here.
Then we reached the secret passage that took us to 4235. Here we regrouped and put on more
layers. Instead of the day getting
warmer as it had on Friday, it had gotten colder. Soon we were climbing again as we now headed
east.
The views opened up to our right. Bear Mountain and Loup Loup stood tall and
green. Beyond them, the Sawtooth
range. This was what made the ride
worthwhile. I knew there wasn’t much
climbing left, and my eyes kept searching for the road to flatten out.
After peaking out we zipped up and braced for the cold
descent. The descent was fast and loose.
We hunted for better lines as the washboard bucked us around like we were
riding jackhammers. My hands were numb
by the time we reached the pavement which didn’t last long.
On the punchy lower slopes of Balky Hill my left adductor
cramped. “Oh good,” I said out loud to
no one. I stopped and Marcel passed
me. I had been carrying a small bottle
of the product “Pickle Juice” which had been recommended by Fatty who has all
kinds of cramping problems as a miracle drug.
I swigged the two ounce jar and yes, it tasted like
pickle juice. I restarted and my left
adductor seemed a bit better but less than a minute after swigging the juice my
right adductor joined the party. I soft
pedaled for five more minutes then realized my legs felt okay now. I ramped it up. No cramps.
I really ramped it up. No
cramps. I am a believer.
We arrived at our planned stop of the Cinnamon Twisp
Bakery. We ordered sandwiches and salty
chips. We were in good spirits with only
one big climb remaining. Someone asked
if we were in town for the Fondo. We replied that we were doing our own Fondo.
After eating our fill we slowly remounted. I had to take the short way back to let out
Tux who had been alone in the cabin for too long. The rest of the group went up the Twisp River
Road and when they turned onto Little Bridge Road they were met by a member of
the fire crew who told them they could not pass. After some conversation and bonding sprinkled
with an outpouring of charm the guardian discreetly waved on the men in black
and orange. They then climbed the
winding gravel road to Thompson Ridge and then partook in the reward of
descending Bluebird and Radar Creek and tempting fate along Patterson Lake only
to cap off the day with a ripper down the Winthrop Trail.
After showers there were heaping plates of salad, pesto
bread and spaghetti to be devoured.
We capped off the weekend with a Sunday ride up and
around Sun Mountain. A final lap of the
descent down Radar Creek and the Winthrop Trail was the icing on the cake. After showers the group packed up and left as
the rains started. You can hope for this
kind of timing, but you should never expect it.
Sometimes you get lucky!
