velotel
09-25-2016, 09:23 AM
Stopped at Vecchio’s after our ride. Mat was telling Jim Potter what we rode. Jim looked at me and said my son is trying to kill me! Just as I suspected!
Friday, a killer day of riding, mountains of pain and strain, but all in all rather wonderful. Some fifteen hundred meters of vertical, generous doses of high single-digit grades, overly generous doses of double-digit grades, sustained going up, until we went down. Yea, that was some kind of day.
But yesterday, Saturday, just plain brutal. Rode into the foothills, up a narrow valley, wind smacking us around. Got to a junction, a sharp turn left and up, in your face up. Straight ahead a wee bit less steep. Mat debated which way to go. Said one would be super steep but short, the other not so steep but longer. I said, whichever, I’ll follow your wheel, your call.
He went straight. When the strain gauge needle was bouncing off the red zone limiter, I asked him if this was the steep but short or the easier but longer option. I was curious because if this was the easier option, the other road is ridiculous. Said this was the easier option. Naturally right after that the grade ramped up some more.
Another junction, onto another road, and discovered new definitions of steep. I think part of my brain must have shut down during the ride because my memories are kind of a jumble with lots of spaces. The climbing was so steep there was no room for anything other than laser concentration on just getting up. Pure survival mode.
Another junction, Deer Trail road. Oh good, a road named after a deer can’t be all that rude. Into a sharp curve to the right, the road seemingly curving up as much as it was curving around. The deeper into the turn, the steeper the road just ahead! Not sure brutal is even close to being a strong enough description. Grade slacked off, some. Just enough that I could keep rolling slowly and give my legs a slight respite.
I looked up, another wall just ahead. That’s how the road was, a staircase, only the steps that should have been flat were anything but flat. Anywhere else they would haven been considered hard going. But not here, no way, not when they’re sandwiched between walls of hurt. I don’t know how steep they were but I’d say easy high teens, minimum. I’ve ridden a lot of steep roads in the Alps, and lots of them have the grades marked on the kilometre posts. Presumably accurate numbers. In Italy I’ve seen signs warning that the grade just ahead is 28%. The walls on the Deer Trail road were as steep as anything I’ve ridden in the Alps, and most of the time steeper.
And they just kept coming! It was pretty amazing. I mean if you want to ride steep, no need to go to the Alps, Boulder has all the steepness anyone could ask for! Crazy steep stuff.
Beautiful up there. Wind howling but the air clear, the sky a hard, deep blue, the sun washing fields of drying grasses in a golden light, the roads this reddish color of crushed sandstone or something like that I suppose. Definitely isn’t paint. Absolutely gorgeous.
Got to the top of somewhere and onto something that wasn’t far off being a single-track that dove down this seriously steep hillsides via some switchbacks and traverses that were seriously steep themselves, and covered with a blanket of red, angular gravel. Made for an interesting descent. Lots of concentration in the switchbacks. Popped us out onto another road. With more climbing. But at least not so much.
At last the descent, no, the plunge back to the valley, back to Boulder. Road paved, wicked fast, the wind pushing hard on our backs, massive fun. I don’t think I’ve ever gone so fast on a bike in my life. I’d watch Mat up ahead. If he was tucked, no brakes necessary. If he was sitting up, I’d float my fingers on the levers, maybe brush a little speed off while waiting to see.
Fantastic, just fantastic. We ripped down off the mountains, banking through turns, doing the high speed weave through linked S-turns, Mat flat flying up ahead, me following figuring he knows what’s coming up next so just go. There were times when I was like oh man this is starting to verge into crazy fast space. Apparently we hit over 90 kph. That wind that had been howling all day long was still blowing fierce on our backs, shoving us down the highway on grades where gravity was already pulling with majestic force.
One insanely fun ride. Again. Boulder truly is a cycling paradise. And if you're wondering, as I recall we road something called Old Stagecoach, Deer Trail, Lee’s Hill, Sunshine Canyon, or I think that’s what we rode, maybe/probably some others. Just following my son around. Really is fun, even if he is killing me!
Friday, a killer day of riding, mountains of pain and strain, but all in all rather wonderful. Some fifteen hundred meters of vertical, generous doses of high single-digit grades, overly generous doses of double-digit grades, sustained going up, until we went down. Yea, that was some kind of day.
But yesterday, Saturday, just plain brutal. Rode into the foothills, up a narrow valley, wind smacking us around. Got to a junction, a sharp turn left and up, in your face up. Straight ahead a wee bit less steep. Mat debated which way to go. Said one would be super steep but short, the other not so steep but longer. I said, whichever, I’ll follow your wheel, your call.
He went straight. When the strain gauge needle was bouncing off the red zone limiter, I asked him if this was the steep but short or the easier but longer option. I was curious because if this was the easier option, the other road is ridiculous. Said this was the easier option. Naturally right after that the grade ramped up some more.
Another junction, onto another road, and discovered new definitions of steep. I think part of my brain must have shut down during the ride because my memories are kind of a jumble with lots of spaces. The climbing was so steep there was no room for anything other than laser concentration on just getting up. Pure survival mode.
Another junction, Deer Trail road. Oh good, a road named after a deer can’t be all that rude. Into a sharp curve to the right, the road seemingly curving up as much as it was curving around. The deeper into the turn, the steeper the road just ahead! Not sure brutal is even close to being a strong enough description. Grade slacked off, some. Just enough that I could keep rolling slowly and give my legs a slight respite.
I looked up, another wall just ahead. That’s how the road was, a staircase, only the steps that should have been flat were anything but flat. Anywhere else they would haven been considered hard going. But not here, no way, not when they’re sandwiched between walls of hurt. I don’t know how steep they were but I’d say easy high teens, minimum. I’ve ridden a lot of steep roads in the Alps, and lots of them have the grades marked on the kilometre posts. Presumably accurate numbers. In Italy I’ve seen signs warning that the grade just ahead is 28%. The walls on the Deer Trail road were as steep as anything I’ve ridden in the Alps, and most of the time steeper.
And they just kept coming! It was pretty amazing. I mean if you want to ride steep, no need to go to the Alps, Boulder has all the steepness anyone could ask for! Crazy steep stuff.
Beautiful up there. Wind howling but the air clear, the sky a hard, deep blue, the sun washing fields of drying grasses in a golden light, the roads this reddish color of crushed sandstone or something like that I suppose. Definitely isn’t paint. Absolutely gorgeous.
Got to the top of somewhere and onto something that wasn’t far off being a single-track that dove down this seriously steep hillsides via some switchbacks and traverses that were seriously steep themselves, and covered with a blanket of red, angular gravel. Made for an interesting descent. Lots of concentration in the switchbacks. Popped us out onto another road. With more climbing. But at least not so much.
At last the descent, no, the plunge back to the valley, back to Boulder. Road paved, wicked fast, the wind pushing hard on our backs, massive fun. I don’t think I’ve ever gone so fast on a bike in my life. I’d watch Mat up ahead. If he was tucked, no brakes necessary. If he was sitting up, I’d float my fingers on the levers, maybe brush a little speed off while waiting to see.
Fantastic, just fantastic. We ripped down off the mountains, banking through turns, doing the high speed weave through linked S-turns, Mat flat flying up ahead, me following figuring he knows what’s coming up next so just go. There were times when I was like oh man this is starting to verge into crazy fast space. Apparently we hit over 90 kph. That wind that had been howling all day long was still blowing fierce on our backs, shoving us down the highway on grades where gravity was already pulling with majestic force.
One insanely fun ride. Again. Boulder truly is a cycling paradise. And if you're wondering, as I recall we road something called Old Stagecoach, Deer Trail, Lee’s Hill, Sunshine Canyon, or I think that’s what we rode, maybe/probably some others. Just following my son around. Really is fun, even if he is killing me!