Skate Creek Loop with the Cyclopaths

On Saturday last we rode what is a bread and butter route on the Puyallup Cyclopaths calender. Skate Creek Loop. It had all the ingredients of a typical Cyclopath ride. Multiple climbs. Views. Lots of time and space to chat with friends. For these reasons this route has become a favorite among the regulars.

The route is pretty basic. Start somewhere near Ashford. Climb to Paradise. Backtrack a bit to find Stevens Canyon road to Ohanapacosh. Turn right and work down to Packwood. Then the follow the route's namesake, Skate Creek Road, back to the start. Simple. Perfect.

Mike was caught with a look of surprise as we prepared to a 7 a.m. start.

Just seven Cyclopaths were present at the start. Dwaine, Les, Martin, Mike, Rob, and two Scotts. There was a rumor in the wind that Adam might already be up the road completing an early ascent to Paradise.

The ride started easy. My pace stayed zone two or easier. I was feeling the joy of riding for fun without the pressure of racing the clock. The air was cool but not uncomfortably so. The traffic was light enough to encourage side by side riding and lots of chit chat. We had a Ford F350 sighting that led us to believe Adam was already up the road making his first attack on Paradise . While we pedaled easy Adam was way up the road working hard. We later learned he set a PR on the climb to Paradise.

Martin posed for the camera at Longmire.

Scott also posed for my camera at Longmire.

While we took a quick stop at Longmire Adam appeared from above. Adam appeared cold. Adam was cold. He was wearing every stitch of clothing and reported that the descent was as chilly as he could tolerate. Fortunately for us the the air was warming and the roads were drying. When we restarted our climb Adam joined us which grew our group to eight.

Adam hides his face (from the cold) behind the Cyclopath colors.

 
We still had plenty of miles to pedal to get to Paradise. During this period I reflected internally on the joy of riding with the Cyclopaths. Outdoor group rides are mostly back to normal and I was enjoying the social aspects of the day.

Climbing between the bridge over the Nisqually River and the Ricksacker Point viewpoint.

 

Les and Scott setting pace.

We took the Ricksacker Point lookout detour. The roads were still damp at this time of the day and the top of Mount Rainier remained shrouded in clouds.

Not long after Ricksacker Point Road the pace picked up a little. Adam and I gravitated towards the front. Most in the group were saving their matches as it was a long day with multiple climbs.

We made a quick turnaround at Paradise. Adam informed us he was done as he had a late morning commitment. Scott J. informed us his legs were beginning to send some signals. Signals that didn't give him enough confidence to continue on our 80 mile route. Scott had worked pretty hard to hang with the group and probably made a wise decision. As we waved goodbye Scott was enjoying the fruits of his labor by taking in the views and snapping photos.

I took note that one lost rider, Scott, probably had little clue how hard the Cyclopaths have pushed on the last climb up Skate Creek Road. The other lost rider, Adam, was certainly the strongest rider on the day and most capable of setting a hot pace when it fancied him. Their departures meant the six remaining riders were more evenly matched.

I stood deep in a snow filled ditch to shoot from a low perspective as Martin sped past.

We descended towards Reflection Lake but stopped only briefly. The sun was peaking through more often and the air warmed as we wound our way down Steven's Canyon. The top half of the descent was beautiful and I took the opportunity to catch a couple frames of descending riders. At the midway point the the road turned rough as is typical for this secter. One bit was reduced to one lane and controlled with a stop light. We saw only green and continued our descent without slowing.

My camera caught Scott descending the first switchback on Steven's Canyon.

Martin followed close behind.

I pedaled at zone two intensity once the descent tapered away at Box Canyon. Mike was with me and we were greeted by more sunshine and warmth as we crested Backbone Ridge. The day was too beautiful to ignore. The group chose to snap photos and chat and linger for many extra minutes as we took in the views and sunshine.

Mike and I both waited to capture the remaining riders as they summited. Mike and I both snapped shots of the other photographer.

My Ibis Hakka MX framed this trio of riders as they crested Backbone Ridge.

Mike is our leader. Mike organizes the rides. Mike communicates to the group. Mike helps us out in whatever way we need. Including jammed zippers.

When I sensed the group was nearly ready I scooted off early as I needed water at Ohanapacosh. After filling my bottles I stood near the road and was approached by a stranger. We struck up a conversation that lasted many minutes. I learned he was from Saint Petersburg Florida, was two months into a solo road trip, and was visiting as many National Parks as he could. I suspected he was happy to find someone to chat with. I was more than happy to oblige.

After we were back on the road I thought to myself what a pleasant random encounter. My cycling path just happened to cross his vacationing path and we were able to share a story or two. This reinforced my joy that the day was about riding for fun and not racing for time.

As we descended Highway 123 the group formed into a pace line but we kept the pace easy. I knew the pace would change at Highway 12. It had every year before.

I chose to peel off a layer as we transitioned off Highway 123 and a gap opened in the process. The group was immediately pulling down the hill and I had to put some extra pressure into the pedals to re-attach.

The six of us were well matched and the pace line rotation was smooth. The shoulder of Highway 12 was not. Our pace line formation was solid and I made a few efforts to capture this Skate Creek Loop tradition with my camera.

Cyclopath pace line coming at you.

Cyclopath pace line going away.

At Packwood we turned off Highway 12. This was the final milestone of the route and marked another transition. We changed from descending to climbing. The temperature went up. I expected the pace would warm up as well.

We refueled and unlayered at the Packwood Shell station. I felt warm enough to go with a short sleeved jersey without arm warmers. I also felt gratitude that I had brought a handlebar bag big enough to hold my now surplus warm layers.

As we re-entered the roadway thoughts of previous rides up Skate Creek Road flooded my consciousness. The suffer of this climb after 60 miles up and down Mount Rainier has etched a permanent place in my mind. Those memories always included a scene where I was working at my limit and a colorful Cyclopath jersey slipped up the road.

I was hopeful this year would be different. With Adam out of the group I liked my chances of holding the leader's wheel.

As usual, we rode easy for the two miles that led into the climb. As we rounded the corner where the gradient begins to creep up Rob was slightly off the front. I picked up my pace and passed Mike and Les. Neither responded. Les voiced his disinterest in my pace. Just seconds later Rob let me go by in a way that communicated my situation clearly. If I wanted to push the pace up Skate Creek I would be pushing it alone.

The climbing section out of Packwood is about 10 miles in length and about 1000 feet of vertical gain. It is never steep. I never let it be easy. With no friends around I owned the struggle against the light headwind. I kept my head down physically and metaphorically.

As pacemaker I chose a time trial strategy. More effort was given when it was steeper. Rest was taken when it wasn't.

The road follows the turns of Skate Creek. I discovered a pattern that I could use to gauge my next level of effort. When the river and road bent to the right the gradient went up. When they bent to the left the gradient tapered. For 25 minutes I concentrated on timing my above threshold efforts on right hand bends and anticipating my sub threshold rests on left hand bends.

At about two thirds distance this pattern no longer held. My mental calculator was working slow and my pacing suffered. All of me suffered. I was riding Skate Creek Road properly.

Every check over my shoulder remained clear of approaching riders. I counted down the minutes. Around every corner I wished mile marker '11', where the climbing ends, would be revealed.

After about 40 minutes I had earned a Strava PR and tired legs.

I turned around to regroup and found that Les and Mike were not far behind. I thought I would tuck in behind to join their conversation but quickly discovered they were climbing with vigor. When the climbing ended we took a few moments of recovery before we got back to work. We took turns pulling with the heaviest rider, me, going to the front when the road angle tipped down. The final eleven miles back to the start area went by quickly.

My reward for the work on the front of the group was a change into street clothes and an early start on my recovery food. The remaining riders trickled in over the next ten minutes. Mike, Les, and myself congratulated ourselves on a near perfect iteration of the Skate Creek Loop route. We also gave thanks for our good window of weather.

The Skate Creek Loop route is my favorite. It ticks all the boxes. The spectacular climb to Paradise. The group photo perfection of Reflection Lake. A riveting descent down Steven's Canyon. A perfect picnic stop at Backbone Ridge. The beauty of Ohanapacosh. A fast highway that motivates strong teamwork. And a final climb where each Cyclopath is offered the option to dial up or dial down the suffer-meter.

Leavenworth Gran Fondo 2021 Race Recap

The Swakane Canyon Road gravel climb defines the Leavenworth Gran Fondo route. The climb is long, technical, sometimes steep, and usually hot. There is no Leavenworth Gran Fondo tale where Swakane Canyon is not part of the plot and this race recap is no exception.

As race day approached Adam and I were comfortable and confident we knew what we were getting into. We raced the Leavenworth Gran Fondo a couple years ago and knew what the course offered. We had seen the 80 miles and 7300 feet of climbing. We knew the 50/50 balance between pavement and gravel. We knew that the course featured two solid gravel climbs and descents with a ten mile pavement separator. We knew Swakane Canyon would be waiting to thrash us.

A few days before the race I developed some worry. My gravel tires were loosing air at an unacceptable rate. Earlier this year I consulted our sponsor Joey at Cascadia Wheel Company to help me put together a wheelset optimised for gravel racing. This new wheelset and new Maxxix Rambler tires were used to good effect at the Cascade Gravel Grinder. After the event I noticed excess air loss through the sidewalls. My efforts to seal the sidewalls were repeatedly thwarted. Not until the day before we were scheduled to leave was this air loss attenuated. I had low confidence the problem would stay solved.

On the drive towards Leavenworth Adam and I discussed strategy. The elevation profile makes one aspect of strategy simple. We had two long dirt climbs between us and the finish. We knew these climbs required our best pace regardless of any surges by other riders. Not unlike the Bend event, I asked Adam to be our pacemaker and he agreed.

The paved sections also provided some tactical opportunities. The most obvious was the flat ten mile section heading South from Entiat on highway 97A. This section lies just after the midpoint of the course and is set up perfectly for pacelining. Finding other riders to work with on this section pays huge dividends and we planned our midrace tactics to leverage any opportunities to find friends and share the workload.

Less obvious and more interesting was the final twelve miles of pavement into the finish. A recent discussion among our Fell Swoop friends led to a tactical conversation of our own. Adam and I race as a team with the goal of getting one of us as near first as possible. Drafting would play a large role in those last twelve miles. We wondered how we would choose who to work with. We theorized where on the course we might re-prioritize to maximize our team's finish position. Making these tactical questions even more complicated was the fact we might be finishing among riders who started in different waves. The scenarios we imagined kept this discussion alive for many of the miles between home and our lodging at the Wenatchee Super 8. We guessed we might be making some decisions from the saddle and in the moment. We were right.

 

Adam's Norco Search in the spotlight at the Super 8. Adam chose Vittoria Torreno Dry tires and they gave him no heartache.

In addition to tire preparation I was also concerned with hydration. It is no secret that every second on the course counts. It is no secret that I usually stop to water a tree a little more often than is ideal. For Leavenworth I altered one aspect of my breakfast menu and then planned to measure the number of minutes till my first de-water stop.

Adam's only change for Leavenworth was the bike. In place of his Hakka MX gravel bike he brought his Norco Search XR gravel bike. This bike is well tested and thoroughly capable. I've never seen the Norco, or any other bike, hold him back. His choice was a simple matter of gearing. The ratios on the Norco Search were a better match for Swakane Canyon.

Sunday morning pre race rituals were completed without issue save one. The Super 8 coffee did not live up to it's name. In the plus column I counted the additional twelve hours that my tires retained their pressure. This allowed me a skosh more confidence in my Maxxis Ramblers holding their air to the finish.

Adam was caught in his puffy coat puffing up the tires on his Norco Search XR. In the background, just over Adam's shoulder, waited the hills and mountains that would be climbed just an hour or two later.

In a non Covid year Jake from Vicious Cycle would provide a neutral roll out for the first six miles. This gets the group, usually about 200 riders, safely through a couple traffic interchanges. This year, with many start waves, there was no neutral roll out. At 8 a.m. we started with our wave and let the other 24 other riders choose a pace. Adam and I did almost no work at the front.

At mile six we turned onto Eagle Creek road. At mile eight a single rider shot up the road and the peloton quickened a bit. At mile eleven a group of four surged to create a chase group and we went with them.  At mile twelve we turned left off the pavement and onto forest road NF-7520. This is where the climbing begins in earnest and the pace remained high.

My concern for tire sidewall air loss transformed to concern for my personal air loss. My respiration rate was high. Much higher than expected. I was making the power and also making some noise. Making enough noise that Adam had taken notice. He confirmed that we were climbing at a hot pace to hold the group of four.

Adam has earned my trust on pacemaking and Sunday was no different. I shared how close I was to blowing up. He weighed tactical needs and climb duration against power meter readings and rider feedback. But Adam's job changed. His power meter blinked off early in the ride. His task became more difficult and he never missed a beat. I remained oblivious to the power meter failure until our post race debrief.

Half way up the first climb Adam chose to moderate our pace. The group of four slowly moved up the road. We were holding sixth and seventh position in our start wave. This was the final time we knew our position against our start wave competitors. My respiration rate remained high. I was at my limit but still maintained the pace. Strava confirmed that we both set new personal best times for the climb.

At the summit we coalesced with an unknown rider in an Audi Cycling Team kit. We did not exchange words but he rode with purpose and confidence and we let him lead us for one mile before slipping past.

We descended without hesitation picking off riders as we went. We ignored the first water only aid station. Not long after we reached the pavement we were joined by two additional riders. We were happy to share the work down Entiat River road and towards the aid station in Entiat.

After a few seasons of practice we have learned to minimize wasted time off the bike. I made my first Johnny-on-the-spot stop of the day. We filled our bottles but needed no additional nutrition. No one matched our time and we soft pedaled away passing a number of riders in the process.

Once onto Highway 97A we repeatedly looked over our shoulders for additional help but none came. We traded turns into the headwind catching one rider. This rider kindly took turns on the front but appeared to be about done. When we turned right to start the Swakane Canyon climb he slowed, smiled, and waved goodbye as we rode away.

The Swakane Canyon climb started at an easy pace. We took guesses on how many riders from our start group we might have passed. We discussed our strategy going forward. Then Adam got back to pacemaking.

I felt more fatigue in my legs than I expected. Fortunately the cloud cover moderated the temperatures. It was still hotter in Swakane Canyon than any other part of the course. The mild tail wind minimized evaporative cooling. I was nearing the low point of my day.

My respiration rate was at redline. My legs were aching. I knew it was time to counsel Adam. With as much persuasion and tact as I could muster I reminded him that the team's goal was to maximize one rider's finish position. I shared that he looked to be that rider. We agreed that if I fell off the pace he would not slow for me.

At about one third of the way into the climb we chose to walk a steep and rocky section. This cost a few seconds but also let our walking muscles take over for our pedaling muscles. This was also a perfect time to make water. I was absolutely wrecked. My back hurt. My legs ached. I could not nicely aim my body one way while preventing my Hakka MX from rolling the other. Instead I oriented my front side down the hill. When the stream started so did the sobbing. My body was releasing both fluid and stress. The sobbing ended before the watering. I looked up to see that same Audi kitted rider come around the corner. I lacked the energy to blush.

In total four riders from later waves passed me on Swakane Canyon. I also let Adam slip away. Just three riders passed Adam. He was able to hang with the Audi kitted rider. They spoke just enough for Adam to learn that he had attended an event we knew well. The 2019 Cyclocross Nationals at Fort Steilacoom Park.

When it was clear I would not climb back to Adam I took stock of my situation. My pace had stabilized. I was nearing the final aid station. I was good on food. I needed just one bottle of water. It seemed possible to claw back some time on the descent.

My aid station stop was just ten seconds. A volunteer filled my bottle and snapped it into my bottle holder while I consumed a packet of Gu energy gel.

The final two miles of the Swakane Canyon climb did not treat me well. The grades changed abruptly and included some of the steepest pitches. One of those pitches pushed my right hamstring into a cramp which I nursed for the remainder of the climb.

The condition of the gravel descending towards the pavement had deteriorated since my last visit. I worked my way down in as safe and speedy a fashion as I could.

Adam was doing the same just a minute or two ahead of me. Unfortunately his tool bag released its velcro attachments costing him precious seconds as he stopped to retrieve it.

As I reached the pavement my wish was granted. I caught two riders. One was in yellow. The second rider wore red. Audi red. I had caught the 'Nationals' Audi rider who most assuredly remembered me from my exposure on Swakane Canyon road. I pulled alongside and asked about a third rider who was up the road far enough to be nearly undiscernible. 'Nationals' answered that the third rider wore my kit. We had Adam in sight.

The scenarios Adam and I had discussed on the previous day's drive flooded back into my head. Adam was in position to be our team's best finisher. It was on me to solidify his finish position. Bringing two helpers and myself up to him could lighten his work load to the finish and lower his overall time. But bringing a strong sprinter up could cost him a position.

It was my turn to make some tactical decisions from the saddle. I made conversation. Short conversation. I polled both riders to find one started at 7:45 a.m. and the other started at 8:05 a.m. One was almost five minutes ahead of Adam on elapsed time and one was fifteen minutes behind. Adam's finish position against this group was immutable. It was in all four riders' best interests to work together.

I jumped to the front, pulled back half the distance to show my intentions, and let the other two riders finish the catch. Now, as group of four, we each knew what needed to be done. We alternated work at the front with 'Nationals' taking the longest pulls.

My legs were nearly toast but my weight down Eagle Creek worked to my advantage. Four miles from the finish we had a short climb and both of my legs cramped simultaneously. I fell out of the group while Adam stayed in the trio to the line. He finished 23rd overall out of 244 and first in our start wave with an elapsed time of 5h:14m:40s.

I nursed my legs from the saddle and quickly discovered I could still push with my right and pull with my left. I found a kind soul from an earlier wave who let me sit on his wheel. Near the finish I pulled up long enough to say 'thanks' for the pull and assure him I could not and would not sprint. I coasted over the line 40 seconds after Adam to be 24th overall and second in our start wave.

I never spoke to the Audi kitted rider who attended Nationals. But Adam did. Only later did I learn his name: Randy Manion. Randy finished in 17th overall almost exactly five minutes ahead of Adam. He gained those five minutes between the start line and the summit of the first climb. Randy earned a 'well done' from us. I also owe him an apology about that awkward scene I created on Swakane Canyon Road.

My hydration experiment was a success. Two stops over five hours was acceptable.

Dwaine's Ibis Hakka MX earned some rest after the Leavenworth Gran Fondo. This bike has been a great fit for me and I am not alone. We saw many other Hakkas in the parking lot and on the course. The Maxxis Rambler tires, despite giving me some worry, did their part and held their sealant.

Adam had his best race day of the year. He was solid. He claimed he was at his limit but never appeared to be struggling. Adding one more velcro strap to his tool bag and five more riders to our Highway 97A paceline would have shaved many minutes off his finish time.

Our race results were a mixed bag. We were strong in our start group but well beaten by riders from other waves. Strava shows Adam finishing about one minute slower than my time in 2019. We both set new personal bests for both climbs indicating we put down the power where it mattered most. Strava also showed that the ten mile section along Highway 97A was my slowest ever with an average less than 19 m.p.h. compared to the 22 m.p.h. of year's past.

Our performance as a team was near perfect. Adam has learned exactly when and where to give me encouragement. I have learned how to give feedback he can act on. Adam's ability to read a race prevents us from making strategic or tactical errors. My upgraded training protocol has nearly closed the gap in our pedaling abilities.

Gran Fondo Leavenworth was the final gravel race on our books for 2021 and it turned into a spectacular way to put a lid on our season. We continued to apply what we've learned over the last few seasons. We continued to find more marginal gains. We continued our path towards figuring out how to get one of us as high on the finish board as possible. And we loved every minute. Except a few of those minutes on Swakane.

Cyclopath Port Orchard Loop Recap

Every year Les and I lead the Cyclopaths on an over-the-bridge route. It's a challenge. The route differs a bit each year. Few of the Cyclopaths know the area well. There are lots of turns and few natural regrouping points. We are getting better and this year might have been our best work so far. 

Before sharing my photos I need to say 'thanks' to my co-leader Les for his work on this ride. Yes, I bring my big voice to communicate with the group. But Les is the true originator of this route and ride. 

A second 'thank you' goes out to our deputized-on-the-fly junior co-leader Adam. Having a third hand who can cover any break went a long ways in keeping us orderly and unlost.

Adam brought them across the Narrows Bridge in tidy order. In the process he created a pretty picture for the photographer and a chance for all the motorists crossing the bridge to appreciated our fine paceline.

 

 

 

Adam led the group into the descent to Al's Market. By this point in the ride he had been deputized and given difficult duties like 'cover any aggressive surges up Dana Drive' and 'Don't let Rob get off the front alone'.

 

Upon our arrival at Al's Market we found this surprise. It has been renamed Olalla Bay Market and was set reopen any day. Al's has been a regular stopping point for many Gig Harbor area rides. What hasn't changed is it's location at the base of a truly leg snapping climb.

As the group turned onto Sedgewick Road I realized how well the day was going. The weather was perfect. The traffic light. It seemed a nice time to grab a rolling group photo. I sprinted ahead, jumped off my bike, pointed the camera, and caught the group as they rolled towards the Southworth Ferry Landing.

Mike is our other photographer and primary organizer. This photo is my homage to the work he does to schedule Cyclopath rides and the work he does behind the viewfinder to document the fun.

At the Manchester boat launch we noticed this wreck. While we gazed at the scene emergency responders arrived only to find no humans in danger. Each of us shared a scenario that explained the situation. My take was that this boat freed itself of it's moorings, blew up against the dock, and then got itself under an edge of the dock on a falling tide. Crunch.

Ride leader Les sitting down on the job. This photo was taken at mile 57 of 68. We stopped for a final restroom break along the Cushman Trail. We were close to home, hadn't lost any riders, and were congratulating ourselves on a job well done.

- 30 -

Chinook

Every Spring a window opens for cyclists who take their climbing seriously. The Washington State Department of Transportation works Monday through Friday to prepare for the Spring opening of Highway 410 over Cayuse and Chinook passes. They graciously allow non motorized access for the one or two weekends after the road is cleared of snow but before the road is opened to auto traffic.

Adam and I chose this past Sunday to ascend Chinook. The original plan called for me to pick him up on the way to the intersection of Highway 410 and  Crystal Mountain Blvd. Typically cyclists park just outside the closed gates of Mount Rainier National Park and enjoy the car free section of road that includes both Cayuse and Chinook passes.

On Saturday morning I received a text asking if I was open to a slight change of plans. Adam wanted to change our start location to create a little longer ride. He suggested Orting. 

I took a few minutes to consult a map. We were familiar with the most excellent Foothills Trail that connects Orting to Buckley. We were familiar with the back way around Enumclaw that included the Mud Mountain Road climb. We've ridden the section of Highway 410 that passes through Greenwater towards Mount Rainier although usually in the opposite direction. Never had we connected all these dots and miles into a single out and back ride. We decided to give it a try.

Weather forecasts indicated we should expect a temperature range of 35 to 60 degrees Fahrenheit. Rain was likely. Sunshine was likely. Our clothing choices were not simple. My handlebar bag was stuffed with extras.

We were pedaling away from Orting by 7:30. There were few surprises for the first twenty miles. When we turned right onto Highway 410 we found that vehicular traffic was delightfully. We rode at a solid zone two pace. Our first photo was taken just off the highway. We stopped to alter clothing layers and dig out more pocket food. The ride was progressing swimmingly.

Adam was just hanging out in the woods.

Our pace was still solid as we rode through Greenwater. We planned was to refuel in Greenwater on the return leg. We took mental notes of the few options and kept on pedaling.

This elk was OK with posing for a photo. The rest of the herd, which crossed the road just in front of us, was a bit camera shy.

After 48 miles we reached our grail. Gates at the entrance to Mount Rainier were firmly closed. Cyclists were invited to enter. Beautiful mountain views laid ahead. Challenging climbing laid ahead. Zero traffic laid ahead.

Stop we did not. Enjoy car free roads in Mount Rainier National Park we did.

As predicted the temperature began to drop. As predicted the experience was spectacular. The road was quiet. The views of Mount Rainier, though infrequent, were breathtaking.

As we approached Cayuse Pass the feel changed. The temperature dropped substantially and fog dominated. We had climbed into the clouds. We were now solidly into the Cascade Range. Our work against the pedals kept us warm but we knew that would change for the descent.

Our arrival at Cayuse Pass brought no change. The fog was thick. Visibility was poor. This portion of the highway is also known as the Chinook Scenic Byway. Our scenery included only the pavement and snowbanks that were within 100 feet. 

Shortly after Cayuse we met the first set of descending cyclists. All four were wearing ski parkas. This gave us pause as we contemplated the cold temperatures awaiting us. We had already discussed alpine weather patterns and the need to be cautious. We started formulating a plan to maximize our warmth.

With less than a mile of climbing to go we watched as a bright and shiny Larue T80 snowblower  revealed itself from the fog. This was our sign to execute. We stopped just long enough to kit up with all our additional layers, document a patch of yellow snow, and snap a photo. The final push to the top, wearing every layer, would hopefully allow us to bank some body heat.

WSDOT owns some mean looking machinery. This Larue T80 self propelled snowblower can swallow bikes and riders whole.

As planned, we spent little time at the top of Chinook Pass. Greetings were exchanged with four other cyclists who were present. A few photos were taken. A bike was hoisted. And then we sped back into Western Washington.

Actually, we did not speed. It was the slowest descent off Chinook every recorded by my Garmin cyclo computer. The fog was thick. There were occasional rocks and icebergs in the road. Cyclists still ascending were tough to see until the final moment. And we were cold.

At the summit of Chinook Pass my camera caught a cyclist hoisting his bike over his head while his partner took photos.

Just below Cayuse Pass the air warmed and we were free of the fog. I put some pressure into the pedals to build warmth. The end of the park came too soon.

When we exited the park we had 28 miles of Highway 410 to navigate. There as a slight headwind. To my surprise, well over five hours into the ride, Adam found some extra watts to burn. I gladly dropped into his slipstream and he stayed on point the majority of the distance towards our next milestone.

The Greenwater General Store came as a welcome relief. My body was eager to stand up straight and shake out the kinks in my back and neck. A quick purchase of water and pocket food was made. Not just any pocket food. I chose a two pack of Grandma's brand chocolate chip cookies. At 170 calories each these two cookies contained the calories I needed to push the pedals for the remainder of the ride.

The low point of the ride was found between Greenwater and the turn off to Mud Mountain Dam. The rain finally caught us. Our bodies ached. The traffic was no longer light. Putting the final 410 leg behind us became our immediate goal. 

I went to the front and did some work. Adam let me suffer for about five miles before he upped the pace and let me have some rest. After four miles I came around to start my final pull. That pull also lasted four miles and ended at mile 100 where we turned onto Mud Mountain Dam road. We sat up. I openly contemplated our ability to pull six hours and nearly 100 miles into our adventure. Our conclusion: We are pretty damn fit.

The final twenty miles were on familiar and friendly roads and trails. These miles were taken at a more social pace as we were able to ride side by side again. As we counted down the miles till we would arrive at our pickup trucks the numbers from this ride started to sink in. Six thousand feet of climbing. 120 miles. Seven and one half hours in the saddle. About 6 and one half hours of pedaling. 196 weighted average watts. Solid.

 

Back in Orting. A photo the the two SSMFs who tackled the Orting-Chinook-Orting route.

The Orting-Chinook-Orting route is not for everyone. Our training volume and schedule placed us in a position to tackle this challenge. The WSDOT snow clearing operation made it a possibility. It was a day well spent.

Palouse to Cascades Trail

When the most recent Puyallup Cyclopaths ride was cancelled an opportunity was created. Adam and I had planned to attend the Cyclopath road ride. We pivotted quickly to fill the day by returning to the Palouse to Cascades Trail for some smooth gravel adventuring. Patrick, a fellow cyclocross and gravel racer, joined us. 

Adam and Patrick were looking cool for the camera as we took in the views from one of the elevated trestles. When the builders converted these trestles from rail to trail they kindly installed guard rails for the pedestrians and nice gravel for the cyclists.

Patrick disappeared into the distance as my camera took the time to capture one more frame. These trestles provided the most spectacular views from the trail as it passes between the Western terminus and Snoqualmie Pass.

Twenty seven miles from the start and the tunnel was in sight. Adam was caught 'gearing up' for the two mile cave sector with an extra layer and a mouthfull of nutrition. The tunnel was cold and dark just as we expected and we were prepared with an extra layer of clothing and our brightest lights. For added spookiness there was a noticeable tail wind which elevated our speed and made the ride eerily quiet.

Snow stopped our progress just East of Hyak but not before we caught sight of Keechelus Lake. Our previous trip included a private helicopter landing on a rock outcropping just off shore. No such luck this time.

 

The cold air blowing out of the East end of the tunnel was felt hundreds of meters before the entrance. We pedalled through with just a few interuptions. My Garmin continually reported that we were 'off course' and Adam continually joked that we missed a turn. I stopped just short of the tunnel exit and snapped a photo just as Adam and Patrick had returned to the warm sunshine of Western Washington.

We finished our ride before noon with 62 miles of perfect gravel having passed under our tires. We enjoyed this ride on the Palouse to Cascades Trail more than the first and plan to be back again this Summer.

Cascade Gravel Grinder Omnium Sunday 'Three Creeks'

This is part four and is best after reading from the beginning: Cascade Gravel Grinder Omnium recap.

Race day came early for me. I was out of my sleeping bag and breaking camp before my alarm thought it wise. My nerves remained calm. I was heeding my own advice and 'trusting the plan'. I knew the day would be long and hard. We planned to 'do what we do' and which was going to put some hurt into my legs and soul. But, unlike Friday and Saturday, I knew exactly what to expect and exactly what we were capable of. The knowledge gave me comfort.

The Three Creeks course  had us up and down the hills in and around Sisters Oregon. The town takes its name from the nearby Three Sisters mountains. The elevation profile for the ride looked more like five sisters. With the exception of the five mile run in and out of the hills we would be climbing or descending the majority of the day. We rationalized that the five climbs and 5500 feet of elevation would be, more or less, equivalent to five trips up our local training climb.

The start of the Women's race was sunny but not yet warm.

With my pre race jitters in check I was able to socialize a bit before Sunday's start. I also wondered a bit with my camera and gravitated towards a certain vintage vehicle. My affinity for coffee and  Volkswagen vans drew me in. The best part was the asking price of zero dollars for a cup of coffee. Thank you Autobahn Coffee.

I could not look away. Fresh coffee and vintage VW van. I was smitten.

 

Sunday's start was chilly but warming was forecast as the day and climbing progressed. Adam and I agreed we would hang with the lead group for at least the run in to hills. The course gradually shifted from flat to climbing in the first ten miles and we found the pace to be acceptable until about mile twelve.

Our on course roles have evolved over time. I am likely to utilize the map feature on my Garmin and make sure the team experiences no navigational surprises.  Adam is likely to utilize the profile feature on his Garmin and his power meter and coach us on climbing pace. We settled on a sustainable pace and let the lead pack climb away from us. But they did't. They put in a surge to create a gap but did not follow through to pull away. We continued to climb with them in our sights. This left us just outside the top ten and feeling good about our chances of success.

The middle miles of the race were not noteworthy. We climbed at our pace and slowly displaced a rider here and a rider there. We bombed down the descents. We also lost a few positions. My choice to stop at the first aid station for water let a few riders sneak by. We also lost a position at aid station number two although that stop was not planned. My rear water bottle choose to become a trail torpedo on a bumpy descent. This forced me to stop and beg for a donor bottle.

The middle miles also brought some mental fog. All of my being was concentrating on sustaining the climbs at my upper power limit or descending at pace or navigating the course. I was communicating poorly enough that Adam took note. When he attempted to share ideas with me I responded that he needed to use smaller words. I was using all my synapses getting around that course in the fewest seconds and there was no mental capacity left for auxilary use.

Adam was in charge of pace but he kept tabs on me. I used the word 'OK' if I could sustain the pace for the duration. Adam chose the word 'hot' to indicate the pace was over threshold when it was my turn climbing at the front.

'Trust' was my favorite. As we've trained and ridden and raced together we've learned how to get around a gravel course. There are times when extra effort is well rewarded in fewer seconds. If Adam was leading and surged for no obvious reason I responded with 'hot' and 'trust'. This meant he was pushing me over my threshold but I trusted his reasoning and could sustain on for a while. This usually occured in the final minute or two before cresting a climb.

If Adam was leading and surged with a rider ahead I kept mum. At these moments it was our job to spin right on past showing nothing but strength as a signal that we were uncatchable. Each of of these efforts hurt the legs. Each of these efforts netted another position at the finish line.

Our race turned upside down at mile 56.1. We were two thirds up the final climb. We were riding in a group of about five. Not all were in our class. The lead rider made a right turn onto a narrow two track road right and was surprised as it turned to sand. This rider failed to negotiate the sand from the saddle. I used my cross skills to slip by. I put in a surge to create the fifteen second gap I needed to find the perfect tree and make water. A passing rider then informed me Adam had dropped his chain and was struggling to lift it.

I soft pedalled for thirty seconds as I studied my mirror and hoped. In those thirty seconds my mental fog was replaced with clarity of purpose. I needed to prepare to solo the next thirteen miles to the finish.

Before I hit the top of the climb at 57.0 miles I had created a mental checklist and started ticking off the boxes. My Garmin display was changed to elevation profile so I could time my push over the top. I took inventory of water and nutrition to discover that my donor water bottle was empty and my front bottle had also chosen to trail torpedo. The third aid station was just a few miles ahead and I would have to stop.

I charged down that hill towards the aid station and my water bottle refill.

My frantic entry into the aid station sent the message that I was in a hurry. A helper quickly filled my single bottle while I found two Goos. As I began to pull away from the table I thought to take one last look back for Adam. But there was no need. He had chased me down and was patiently waiting on the opposite side of the road. I was dumbstruck that he had closed the gap and my remark of surprise was met with laughter by the aid station workers. I was pleased that we were back together, just ten miles from the finish, and providing levity to those within earshot.

Adam did a lot of work to close that gap and I returned the favor by taking long turns on the front. As the miles ticked off we caught sight of a single rider up the road. We were stronger but had let him slip by during the dropped chain affair. We watched the gap shrink and the miles tick off. Adam started doing more work at the front.

Just after the 3k to go sign we were left with our last navigational challenge. We needed to turn right onto the gravel Edgington Road which would be the finish straight. Adam was leading. His plan after the right turn was to pull me a ways down Edgington and then send me off to finish the deed. It almost worked.

We slowed enough to see that there was no traffic. We did not slow enough to see the ditch. Adam straightened up and hopped but sacrificed the fast line. I unclipped and took the turn and ditch with one foot out moto style. I looked wreckless. My wheels skidded in and out of line and my foot was swinging wildly. But I was able to hold my line and exitted the corner with momentum. I put my head down and set my resolve to close the 100 meter gap to that next rider.

Over that last two kilometers I was closing. It was unclear if I would make it. With just a few hundred meters to go he looked over his shoulder. My proximity motivated him to find a few more watts and he stayed ahead by four seconds.

Adam rolled over the line just moments after me and we congratulated ourselves on a race weekend well done. A bucket list event well done. There was a finish line cooler. In it I found the most satisfying can of beer I can remember.

The clock says I raced 69.1 miles in 4:24:39 for an average speed of 16.0 mph. I was scored 14 of 45 in my class for Sunday's race. This also earned another seven points on omnium scoring where my final result was also 14th. We did not win. We did not finish on the podium. We did put in a solid effort against a strong and talented field of gravel racers.

The remainder of our time in Sisters Oregon was filled with warm and fuzzy thoughts.

We set off slowly towards Village Green City Park for boxed meals and the awards presentation. As we left the finish line Tim informed us that Jen had won the Masters Women's class. We gave her a grand cheer when we met up with her on the way to the park. The four of us found a sunny patch of grass to eat and chat. Halfway through our pulled pork sandwiches Tim shared the most rewarding compliment Adam and I might ever receive. He told us how impressed he was with how strong we have become and how well we rode together. That comment made every minute of suffering and preparation worthwhile.

This photo was taken before the race. I was excited to see Tim and Jen and their new adventure van. I did not know Jen was on her way to victory.

I am filled with gratitude towards the many people who made this bucket list race weekend possible.

Adam gave in many ways. As my teammate he has supported my cycling in a direct way for a number of years. His guidance allowed me to build the strength to compete near the pointy end of the race. His comradarie provided the motiviation to stay true towards our shared goal.

My wife Deanne initiated this adventure over a year ago with the idea of a bucket list event. Then she allowed me the time and space to train. I couldn't have done it without her support.

Adam and I also wanted to say thanks to: Kelsey and Joey at Cascadia Wheel Company for equipment support, Mike and Les of the Cyclopaths for comraderie and encouragement, Chad at Breakaway Promotions for exercising patience and diligence as this event was repeatedly disrupted by Covid-19, and the Sisters High School wrestling team for volunteer support at the on course aid stations.

Cascade Gravel Grinder Omnium Saturday 'Bust Your Butte'

This is part three and is best after reading parts one and two of the Cascade Gravel Grinder Omnium recap.

The second act of the Cascade Gravel Grinder Omnium was labeled 'Bust Your Butte'. This 53 mile gravel route  was decidedly flat. The first 7.5 miles included a paved descent before getting to the gravel. The remainder of the course was basically flat with a few rollers mid course and a small hill at about five miles before the finish. We predicted that a large group would stay together for much of the race.

Saturday broke cool and wet with an unexpected amount of rainfall over night and into the morning. This changed nothing for us and we executed out breakfast tasks while we watched the rain drip off the corners of Adam's portable shelter. As I ingested my breakfast I could feel the pre race jitters begin to set in. I knew Adam would be working for me. I could not stop dreading any mistake that would make his work and our preparation go to waste.

While I fretted Adam researched. His reading revealed that coasties riding at elevation should expect a reduction in power due to the thinner air at elevation. Efforts up to threshold level would be slightly compromised. Efforts above threshold would be seriously compromised. This fit with our experience up the TT climb. We put this information in our back pockets. Saturday's event would likely involve responding to pack dynamics where we wanted to ride sheltered from the wind as long as possible.

At the start area I nervously single checked and double checked all aspects of my bike and kit. Adam provided words of confidence. He reminded me of the following: We were well prepared for this event. We trained and were bringing our best fitness. We needed only to trust the plan and execute. As he predicted, when we rolled over the start line my nerves settled and I calmly attended my business as a gravel racer.

This photo is of the Women's class start on Sunday at Sisters High School.

The pace started light. The peloton felt no motivation to work while traveling down the seven and one half miles of pavement. Gravity was doing most of the work. This sector passed without drama save one three second episode. A rider pulled a u-turn out of the center of the peloton. The sound of skidding tires and sight of weaving helmet tops alerted me to danger. A split second later I gained sight of the u-turner and swerved hard left just missing his front tire. The peloton lit up with a cocophony of yells, expletives, and profanity. A moment later the scene was behind us with all riders remaining upright.

The pavement ended and the gravel hit us hard. The peloton was probably still at least 40 riders strong. The effort level increased. Adam and I were caught off guard. We had never ridden this fast on roads this rough while fighting for position in the peloton. I thought the pace would settle eventually but was wrong. We learned to get as comfortable as we could with the tight quarters, high speed, and limited forward visibility.

The bikes were taking a beating. Rocks and occasional sticks were getting lifted by the wheels in front of us and bouncing off our wheels, frames, and feet. We silently hoped that all damage remained cosmetic.

Miles sixteen to twenty saw a few rolling climbs and some of the power brokers up front started animating the race. Adam and I knew enough to get towards the front. The peloton strung out a few times and we stayed connected at each surge. When the theatrics calmed the peloton had been halved.

The powder keg burst at mile 28. I did not see the first move but felt the front group of ten riders slip away. I was not attached to the ten but was riding a strong wheel who seemed keen to bridge. The bridger and I passed Adam as we chased. Adam's expression communicated his situation clearly. He could not hold this pace.

The attack of ten seemed to take place at a sector with the most pronounced washboard we had seen that day. The pace and the washboard worked well to soften the resolve of many who thought of chasing.

I was just able to hold the chaser's wheel as we turned off the washboard and onto a smooth two track road that wound Northeast along the Deschutes River. I was working just to hold the wheel. When the elbow flick came I responded. Verbally. 'Sorry, I don't have it' I yelled forward. My fitness allowed me to stay connected to the chaser just a few more minutes. Soon number was punched, my lungs were scorched, and I could no longer hold on.

Up I sat. While soft pedaling I performed some housekeeping. My vest was stripped, hat was removed, and water was consumed as I watched the chase group grow larger in my mirror.

Adam was a founding member of the chase group which eventually grew to seven riders. The pace was similar to the peloton's before the break. Adam and I quickly learned that we could trust the bike handling of these riders and grew comfortable working with them in close quarters. This was especially good timing as the roads were becoming more narrow and littered with debris.

With riders we trusted and about twenty miles to go we were able to relax a smidge. Limited chatting took place. Adam and I received compliments on our cross skills when a downed tree presented an opportunity to practice our barrier dismount and remount technique. The pace remained brisk but I worried less that I would get dropped. Adam took a few pulls at the front. I did not.

The final ten miles included a few rolling hills and a minor climb. The pace was tough but no games were played. Every rider put their head down and did the work.

The pace was warming as we passed the '5k to go' sign. The road was the tightest we had seen all day with only a single rideable line in places. Adam and I managed our efforts as we followed the wheels in front of us. At about 3k to go Adam's wheel found a section of sand and nearly washed out. His bike was thirty degrees off course by the time he found the handle and he had lost his momentum. In that instant I realized his fate was sealed. Adam yelled 'Go!' and I did not hesitate.

The pace continued to build and I eventually lost touch with the wheel in front of me. Then a rider came around. I was hurting. But I did not surrender to the passer. I dug deep to hold his wheel and found we were slowly reeling in the wheel I had lost. With a couple hundred meters to go I caught a glimpse of the finish banner through the trees, gave whatever I had left, and picked off the passer before the line.

We coasted to a stop 100 meters past the line. As we found our wind the riders in the chase group of seven introduced ourselves. We were universal in our appreciation for the collective strength and skill of the group. I commented that it felt not unlike a two and three quarter cyclocross race.

My finish result was solid. I crossed the line 14th of 65 in 2:37:05 for an average speed of 22.0 mph. This finish netted another seven points on omnium scoring. Adam was three positions behind me but not officially scored. I was content with our performance. As two fish-out-of-gravel we held up well in the road race end of the pool.

We faced a five mile ride to get back to the parking area. We soft pedaled while taking in the natural beauty of the high desert. Tim happened to join us a mile or two in. When mental clarity returned we debriefed on the race. Tim reiterated our first thoughts. Saturday's event played out more like a road race than a gravel race. Tim shared that he recognized many of the riders from his days racing on the road and that the pace and tightness of the peloton were not unlike a typical road race.

On the way back to the campground we purchased burritos and got started on refueling. After lunch I found my way into my sun warmed tent and drifted off to sleep.

The remainder of the afternoon was taken at a leisurely pace. We readied our gear for Sunday's event and slowly formed a strategy. Our legs were feeling the effects of two hard days. We had accepted the limitations on our power due to the thinner air. Sunday's strategy would be a polar opposite of Saturday's. On Saturday we responded to the peloton to stay connected and retain the aerodynamic benefits of pack riding. On Sunday we would set our own pace. On Sunday we anticipated a good number of riders would go off the front early. We gambled that over the course of seventy miles and fifty-five hundred feet of climbing we would bring many of them back.

I crawled into my tent Saturday night feeling content. Sunday's race had one requirement. We needed only to 'do what we do'.

This race recap continues as part four of the Cascade Gravel Grinder Omnium Sunday Three Creeks.