Prologue:
Caution: lengthy, irrelevant drivel, skip to The White Mountain Double section below if you are interested in somewhat more relevant ride report details.
Caution: lengthy, irrelevant drivel, skip to The White Mountain Double section below if you are interested in somewhat more relevant ride report details.
Riding the White Mountain Double (WMD) was another last minute decision – many of my doubles and longer training rides are. My knees had been giving me some trouble since early summer. Pain and various levels of discomfort on top, the front, the inside, the outside, and various combinations thereof, coming and going on both knees at random times. It was enough to drive a poor cyclist mad. I cut down mileage, adjusted cleats and saddle height, switched insoles, used different shims, and spent countless hours trying to figure out what could be wrong. Things slowly got better. I finished the High Sierra Fall Century with some pain, but still in five and a half hours overall time so it wasn’t all that bad.
We rolled into Bishop around noon on Friday and finished up some loose ends. The clippers at Uncle Bill’s on Main Street completed a transformation from shaggy Berkeleyite to military recruit in a matter of minutes. #2 on the sides and #3 on top. My Dali mustached barber knows the drill. The haircut was overdue anyway, but with the impending heat throughout the next day it was essential.
We rolled into Bishop around noon on Friday and finished up some loose ends. The clippers at Uncle Bill’s on Main Street completed a transformation from shaggy Berkeleyite to military recruit in a matter of minutes. #2 on the sides and #3 on top. My Dali mustached barber knows the drill. The haircut was overdue anyway, but with the impending heat throughout the next day it was essential.
I spent the rest of the day lounging around, eating, drinking, and watching some TV. Swapped out the wheels and brake pads to accommodate a most fabulous set of tubular Zipp 303s. The wheel choice was agonizing and left me going back and forth for a long time. The thought of riding my 303s was first planted on the Alta Alpina Challenge Double test ride last year. I finished the ride with Reve R., who extolled the virtues of his sub-15 pound rig, which included carbon tubulars. Having always been more inclined to go light, the wheels seemed like a good way to shave off close to a pound and be more aero. Flatting, was the main issue. I would have to bring a spare and I could only flat once.
A second and more pertinent problem was that the front 303 tire was flat a few days after my other half raced San Ardo. Turns out she picked up a barb from a tumbleweed at some point during the race (she actually finished well and didn’t realize her front tire was leaking). On a clincher this would have been an easy five minute fix, but with a tubular and a double century floating around in my head I thought it may be good to switch out the tire. Tufo Extreme tape actually makes this much less of an involved process than the feared and despised process of gluing tubulars. However, this was an almost new tire with only one race and a few extra miles on it and the miser in me had a tough time pulling that thing off and putting on the Vittoria I scored from Ken at Wrench Science (thanks!).
The alternative was Green Slime tire sealant. I had unsuccessfully tried Tufo sealant previously. The slime (literally) was just a messy pain to work with. I never figured out a good way of getting a lot of the bubbling liquid into the tire. Syringe? Nope! Squeeze bottle? No! The stuff would always come back through the open valve stem, oozing soylent green (interesting movie) over everything.
By now you’ve probably realized that I tend to overanalyze things, thus the next logical thought was: ‘is this thing going to hold’ and the next thought after that was ‘is it going to hold while riding a double century out in the middle of nowhere?’ After all the WMD has a rest stop on the Nevada side that is called ‘The Boonies,’ appropriately so!
I reconciled the potential of being stuck out in the rather balmy desert with a flat by bringing a spare and faith in SAG. These guys had to be better than Planet Ultra (where I didn’t see a single SAG for the second half of the Solvang Double in fall of 2006). The plan was set: ride the 303s and see what happens.
I hit the sack around 8:00PM and slept more or less until 3:30AM the next morning. Sure, the walls of the motel were paper thin and someone decided it would be good to hold a lengthy conversation in the parking lot outside our door at 1:00AM, but ultimately just lying there and trying to sleep had some restorative qualities. In my slumber I longingly thought about my wife’s earplugs and the adventure ahead….
The White Mountain Double:
We were up at 3:30AM and sunscreened, fed, and dressed by 4:00AM. It was somewhere in the mid 40’s and not a good time to find my vest missing. I’d have to suck it up and freeze my butt off until sunrise. We headed to the start, signed in, and rolled out of town toward Big Pine. I stayed near the front in order to not miss any of the ‘action’ and sure enough, less than a minute into the ride a recumbent comes cruising by. I hop on his wheel, fully intent on drafting to the base of White Mountain. Another rider does the same thing behind me and our little group pulls away from the rest of the field (around 80 starters). The pace is a brisk, but benign 22.5mph average. I tuck in on the right in order to not blind the guy on the bent with the beam of my Mitycross (unfortunately, according to his ride report, it sounds like that didn’t work that well; btw it’s a LED not a HID). Forty minutes into the ride we cruise into Big Pine and hang the left turn on Hwy. 168, the gateway to White Mountain.
Imagine the ride up White Mountain as climbing Mt. Diablo twice in a row, except your starting elevation for White Mountain is a bit higher than your finishing elevation for Mt. Diablo. White Mountain proper tops out at over 14,000 feet, but our destination was Schulman Grove at just over 10,000 feet with well over 6,000’ of climbing in the 5-6% average range along the way. There are however many steeper sections, in particular a longer stretch in the 7-8% range lower down and several short, steeper sections in the upper part of the second half.
As soon as we hit the uphill the recumbent drops back, leaving me and the other rider. He’s got some heavy breathing going and seems to have shifting and light problems. I slowly pull away into unfamiliar territory. I can usually be found hanging out somewhere near the front on most longer rides, but this was different: I was pulling away solo at a strong but very sustainable pace.
I dropped off my light and grabbed some gels at the first aid station half way up the mountain and discovered shortly after leaving that my earlier companion was back. Rode past the second aid station and pulled away again. The ride up White Mountain was steady, beautiful. The guys at Schulman Grove aid station at 10,000’ (6000’ of climbing and 38.6 miles into the ride) were still setting up when I got there: ’you’re ten minutes early,’ one of the surprised volunteers exclaimed. He gives me a White Mountain commemorative CO2 canister (unfortunately it’s not threaded), I grab some gels, and motor back down the mountain. It is a wonderful descent and I try to stay on the conservative side, which is a good thing since there are several riders coming up on the wrong side of the road.
After a left turn on Hwy. 168 I hammer over Westgard Pass, figuring that the nearest rider is probably half a mile or more behind and that the downhill is a great opportunity to widen that gap. The morning air is brisk, but warming up and 45mph is a breeze. The thought of finishing first enters my mind, fully knowing that the finish is well over 150 miles away and that a lot of things could happen before then. I go into poor man’s time trial mode on the flat before Gilbert Pass and feel good going over the pass itself. It’s roughly a 2+mile climb, somewhere around 6-7%. There is nobody within sight! At the CA/NV border the harsh California chip seal gives way to a noticeably smoother road surface. Welcome to the silver state…
Coming into Boonies around mile 89 things slow down a bit. The lunch stop (fresh peaches!) and restroom break is welcome, although I’m probably hanging out a bit too long. Boonies is aptly named, a few houses with a restaurant/bar out in the middle of the desert. The immediate surrounding area could probably still classify as ‘farmland,’ but the harsh reality is that there isn’t much out there! The temperature is in the high 70’s by now and it seems like there’s a bit of a headwind as I pull away from the rest stop. A volunteer drives past me to set up a water stop a few miles down the road. It seems like I’m continuously busting the rest stop opening times. The volunteers are fantastic, definitely on par with some of the other great ride supports that I’ve experienced in the past (DBC, Alta Alpina, and of course the Quacks and the folks on the TT).
There is another little pass heading out to Coaldale and ‘Smoothies.’ The longed for easy downhill to the NE turns into a downward struggle, facing a headwind. I’m going between 23 and 26mph, DOWN a 2+% grade! It sucks to have to pedal this hard to make downward progress. Being light definitely helps going up hills, but becomes a major struggle in the wind.
‘Smoothies,’ at 124mi and 8500 cumulative feet of climbing, turns out to be my favorite station. It’s pretty darn hot by now (close to 100 deg.), it’s been a hard solo ride, my right knee is starting to hurt, and I’ve got well over 75 miles and another big climb to go. Being in a hurry I pass up the initial smoothie offer, but fortunately still have enough brain left to reconsider. It is by far the best thing I’ve ever ingested on a long ride! Real peaches, strawberries, yoghurt – just the way I would make it at home, but this is out in the middle of the HOT desert! The drink is cool, refreshing, goes down easy (few things do this far into a ride), and lifts the spirits in an instant.
The stretch from ‘Smoothies’ out to Montgomery Pass has a significant out and back section, thus I was eagerly keeping track of my mileage in order to see how far down the next person would be. Turns out I’m up by over five miles on the second rider and another half to one mile on second and third place. Wow! Five miles up and over seventy to go. A couple of those guys are sporting aero bars, certainly not in my favor.
I hit the bottom of Montgomery Pass, an endless climb. None of it is very steep, but by now the temperature is well over 100 degrees. There is no shade on this entire ride – NONE! Once the sun comes up you warm up, then slowly start cooking, move on to baking, and finally wind up fried. If you take a ride like the TT, you know Skaags will be hotter than hell, but the (Rancheria) Wall has some shade, so does Ft. Ross, and you’ve got a fairly cool stretch of PCH in between (frequently with a nice tailwind). Even DMD in 2007 (still the hardest and one of the hottest rides I’ve ever done) had some shade on Morgan Territory, and later on Calaveras and Palomares. The WMD has NO shade! NONE!
My right knee feels the sharp stinging pain (IT band) that is all too familiar from the left knee during the last 200K on PBP. I know that the pain will slowly grind me (literally) to a halt. Getting out of the saddle makes things worse, thus there is no relief on the backside, which is getting fairly sore by now. I am just trying to hang on and take it as far as I can. The motto is always: ‘Don’t give up!’
At the water stop half way up the climb to Basalt my Polar records 104 degrees. I could use a few more smoothies right now. The Caffe Latte Perpetuem, a refined drink early in the ride, now tasteshorrible. The short ride to Basalt seems to take an eternity. To my surprise I’m greeted by my wife at the rest stop. She DNFed at Boonies (also knee problems) and hung out with SAG. It’s good to see her, but the joy is tempered by the fact that there’s still over 3 miles of hill left to the top of Montgomery Pass. I slog on…
Much of my motivation for riding through the pain, my carrot, came from the promise of a 50-mile downhill with a tailwind from the top of Montgomery Pass. I should have known that ‘tailwind’ and ‘downhill’ combined in the same sentence are the equivalent to ‘you’ve won the lottery.’ It happens, very rarely. Maybe that’s the way it felt on the test ride, but today things are a bit different.
After reaching the top of Montgomery there’s a gradual downhill, then a bit steeper section. I try to hammer, but am not going all that fast. My nagging suspicion of a head/crosswind is confirmed when a sudden gust takes my front wheel for an aberrant spin. Visions of flying down the mountain at 45+mph vanish and are replaced by a speed reduction in order to stay in control and the stark reality that this would be a long fifty miles.
After reaching the top of Montgomery there’s a gradual downhill, then a bit steeper section. I try to hammer, but am not going all that fast. My nagging suspicion of a head/crosswind is confirmed when a sudden gust takes my front wheel for an aberrant spin. Visions of flying down the mountain at 45+mph vanish and are replaced by a speed reduction in order to stay in control and the stark reality that this would be a long fifty miles.
It seems as though the crosswind comes from the East or Southeast. It’s not heavy, but strong enough to make the last segment of the ride a serious physical and mental challenge. I’m still aware enough to not miss the turn-off for the Benton rest stop, the ‘Soup Stop’ in a local park. The guy manning the stop has just set-up and is feverishly looking for a match or lighter for the stove. Heck, it’s in the high 90’s, so I’m good without hot soup. I would gladly go for another smoothie! Neighborhood kids surround us and ‘rest stop man’ finally relents and gives away a bar to lessen the constant pleading. I figure he’s got his hands full and move on.
The pain is getting pretty bad. My backside is raw (no chamois cream on this ride or any other for the last year or so) and the ice pick working on my right knee seems to be going in deeper. I languish slowly for a few miles and get off the bike for a brief break, trying to stretch and recover my senses a bit. As I get back on I quickly glance behind and see a rider about a quarter mile back. Damn!
The thought of getting caught so close to the finish adds to my agony, on the other hand it presents an opportunity to have a bit of conversation, perhaps even trade some pulls. The fact that it takes the other rider a few miles to catch me indicates he’s not going much faster, which is a good sign. Around the sixteen mile mark he’s caught up. Turns out it’s Will Pease, a youngster (remember that the average age on doubles is usually in the high 40’s) who’s just done the Everest Challenge. I don’t feel that bad, plus he’s a nice guy.
Will missed the Benton rest stop and his swamp cooling bottles are pretty much empty. We pull over to rest my backside and knees a bit and I part with half a bottle of Chai Latte Perpetuem. It’s only ten miles to go and we trade easy five minute pulls on the relatively flat stretch of remaining road. Just shy of the actual finish a sweeping left turn gives a glimpse of Bishop. The pain disappears temporarily, replaced by elation. A few more pedal strokes, a quick sprint to make it through the green traffic light, and one last turn into the Ramada where we're graciously greeted by Priscilla. We rested in the lobby for a couple of hours, talked, and watched a few others trickle in.
We were joined by several other riders for dinner at Thai Thai restaurant, excellent food, tall tales (meeting Nelson Mandela ranks up there somewhere), and all of that at the Bishop airport!
Epilogue:
It was certainly a worthwhile ride. Maybe not as strenuous as DMD in a hot year or Alta Alpina (also at altitude and a ton more climbing), but beautiful (I like open desert) and extremely well supported. It would be a serious ride in high wind situations.
Much thanks to all the volunteers, they did a fantastic job!
Much thanks to all the volunteers, they did a fantastic job!
I experienced similar knee pain (IT band) on the left knee toward the finish on PBP in 2007, pretty much for the same distance, maybe a bit more agonizing (there were quite a few times when I would just stop the bike and howl into the night). The pain and knee problem disappeared completely within a couple of months. This time around seems a bit different, the problem is lingering and possibly here to stay...
Ride statistics:
200.7 miles, 11,640’ – 12:50 official overall time (12:06 ride time)
Aie-aie! Thanks for sharing that "it's not as glamorous as you may think." In the end, I think I prefer being slow and (relatively) pain-free ...
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