I didn't want to wear the Climb to Kaiser jersey until I had given all I could to finish the ride, until I had strained against gravity, felt my pulse pound, and the sweat pour off my forehead.

And what is the Climb to Kaiser? It's a one day bike ride sponsored by the Fresno Cycling Club that begins and ends in the heart and the heat of the Central Valley of California, and in between climbs high into the Sierra Nevada mountains. It includes 150+ miles of backroads, 13,500 feet of elevation gain and loss, and ultra steep grades reaching more than 15%. All the miles and the elevation are required to reach both Kaiser Pass, 9,200 feet above sea level, and the return to the Central Valley. (The ride now includes a century and metric century option.)

Surfing the web, I found detailed information about the Climb to Kaiser (probably THE web site to read about the ride), that would take place on the last weekend in July. The ride was unlike any other I'd ever done over the course of one day. Beyond the distance - 50 more miles - there would be almost three times the elevation gain than a typically difficult century would offer.

As far as I could tell, it was the only longer organized ride within a few hundred miles of my Los Angeles home that weekend. So, after thinking it over, I sent in my registration fee, just in case I did decide to attempt the ride, which certainly seemed, given my lack of stellar physical conditioning, impossible to complete. I finally began to put myself in "serious" shape for the C2K about two weeks in advance of the ride. I knew most "serious" riders had been in training for a couple of months. My final workout, three days before the C2K, was an 80 mile ride, with 6,500+ of gain. The ride itself would almost double that distance and elevation. I trained on my 23 pound Specialized Stumpjumper Comp hardtail, outfitted with very narrow, light weight road tires, and a cushy seat, both of which I had used on my century rides, and I intended to ride the C2K on the same bike.

Registration was available from 6 to 8 p.m. on the day before the ride. A mass start with a police escort the next morning from Letterman Park, in Clovis, the town just east of Fresno, would start at 5:30 a.m. For those who finish it, the ride itself takes anywhere from eight and half hours to more than sixteen hours.

Click here (or above) for the full size elevation profile or click here for more ride statistics

Click here (or above) for the full size map

Act One

For me, taking part in such an epic ride was like being in a play composed of many acts. The exciting opening act was the police escort and the fast-paced ride through the town of Clovis. The following acts were the serious grades we had to climb: Wildcat, Burrough, Tollhouse, Pine Ridge, Big Creek, and Tamarack, on a route that would take us first through the flat countryside, then Sierra Nevada foothills and the mountains, before we would reverse course. The closing act would be, if I made it, the finish back in Clovis, with a barbecue dinner in the park.

For the first act, I was up before 4:30 a.m., after a fitful night of sleep on a couch at the home of friends in Fresno.

At the park, where the temperature felt like 85 degrees, Mark Dunn, the C2K coordinator, gave a few last minute instructions, the lead squad car turned on its flashing roof lights, and 220 riders were off. Voices were stilled as bike shoes clicked into clipless pedals, and shifting gears clanked as the cyclists gathered speed. As we rode, each intersection we passed was blocked off by Clovis police officers and more police cars with flashing lights - it was a very impressive beginning to the ride.

Soon enough we were all out of town on a two lane country road, pedaling through the flat countryside, heading to the summer-browned foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains. The sun, a burned orange in a hazy sky, rose and slowly cleared the High Sierra to the east. Sag wagons (support vehicles) - composed of cars, vans, trucks, and at least one motorcycle - overtook us as we began some gentle climbs. Each time we approached a hill the sun would disappear. Then we'd enjoy another dawn as we'd come down the far side of the hill or pedal around a bend. The brown grass and roadside weeds of summer were translucent, backlit by the low-hanging sun. Signs of civilization included fenceposts and a windmill but not much else, other than the dark, narrow ribbon of roadway. The cloudless sky above was turning blue.

Wildcat Grade, the first significant climb, started about 20 miles into the ride - there were about three and a half miles of tough climbing, with an average grade just over 5%, and one section a little over 12%! With this steep a slope, the muscles of even the strongest riders strain against the force of gravity, breathing accelerates, the pulses pound, sweat pours off foreheads.

The road climbed through open ranch land dotted with oaks. By now I rode alone. The faster riders were in front of me, and if any riders were behind me, I didn't know it. Someone on a motorcycle pulled up beside me. "Are you all right?" Oh, oh, was I that far behind? Later, someone standing next to his pick-up truck - another sag wagon - watched me pull near. "Hey, you're on a mountain bike, way to go!" In fact, I may have been the only person on a mt. bike.

I found myself at the first rest stop at the top of the grade, where I had my jersey bib stamped - that way the support staff (which was terrific) could keep track of me throughout the day, and validate my progress. After too long a break, I was off - on a nice downhill in Watts Valley. Much of the way was in the shade and the temperature felt surprisingly cool. I didn't see many riders...

Too soon the route and the temperature led up again, this time along the Burroughs Grade. This hill was just a piker - 2 miles long and an average 4.7% grade. Pines began to mix in with the oaks. At the top, the route rolled through reasonably level terrain, past a collection of ranch houses.

The Tollhouse Grade was next, with 6.5 miles of climbing and stretches of a sustained inclination of more than 12%, adding 3,500 feet of elevation gain. Not far from the bottom of Tollhouse, the route reached rest stop #2, where I watched a helicopter overhead, trailing a huge bucket of water that was being used to put out a forest fire somewhere to the south. Cliffs of granite soared above me. Past the rest stop, the road began an abrupt ascent up the historic Tollhouse Grade, climbing out of a canyon and onto the side of a mountain. It didn't seem too long before I was looking down on the helicopter. And not long after that, the granite outcroppings were below me, too. The Central Valley was far below and far to the west. Then, after a switchback, the oaks thinned out and the route was up in the pines, closing out the view to the west.

There was a water break about two thirds up the grade. After a few minutes off the bike, I noticed my legs seemed to feel like blocks of wood. But the Tollhouse Grade continued to climb through the tall pines at a steep rate. The last several hundred yards to Highway 168 were a killer, the sustained grade probably above 12%. I couldn't seem to catch my breath - it would be the one time during the day I'd think about giving up. Take a look at the elevation profile - Tollhouse Grade is not just a steep climb, it's a long, steep climb. Lower gears all the way up would have been appropriate.

The route turned onto pine-lined Highway 168, where cars and RVs were towing boats and trailers. It was quite a contrast to the quiet roads just traveled. Now I tried to recover on the more gentle grade of 168 (but only more gentle in comparison to the Tollhouse Grade). I rode up behind someone who introduced himself as Gary, a big man, who said his one goal was to make it to the top of the pass. "I'll take the sag vehicle back down if I make it to the top," he said. Gary had the right idea, leading me on a leisurely three mile ascent up a series of tight turns brought us to rest top #3, at the Church of the Lake. We were not too far from Shaver Lake, the picturesque reservoir built and maintained by Southern California Edison. We were also about 50 miles into the ride. Valet bike parking, made-to-order sandwiches, Gatorade, even massages were at our beck and call. A rider next to me said, "Hey, it's only a little after 11. We've got all day to ride."

After the rest stop there was a series of rollers leading through the little resort community of Shaver. Then there was a nice, twisting drop at the end of town, before a climb started to reach the level of the dam holding back the water of Shaver Lake. The surface was peppered with boats. Not too much farther came the turn-off toward Big Creek. Far above lay Huntington Lake, another Southern California Edison reservoir, the toughest climb of the day, with lunch the reward for doing it.

But first, there was some initial and painful uphill pavement on the mostly traffic-free, four mile long, aptly named Pine Ridge, with up to a sustained 9% grade. Then came some more or less level riding. After crossing a bridge that took me past a little gurgling waterfall, where I wanted to stop and fill my water bottle but didn't, the route reached some grand, switchbacked downhill runs. Across the canyon a major portion of the the Big Creek Grade was visible, "The Mother of All Climbs." To reach it, the road first dropped down to the massive Big Creek Powerhouse and it's whirring turbines. Giant, twin pipes directed water from Huntington Lake, invisible far above, down a few thousand feet of steep, open mountainside, into the powerhouse.

The route crossed the creek, traveling past the massive powerhouse and the little community housing the workers around it. A water stop waited near the bottom of the grade, after which the Big Creek grade began in earnst. Then it was time to suffer in earnest. The incline reached and exceeded 15% and more some of the time. There was no sanctuary from the harsh rays of the sun, because the trees that at one time shaded this hellish slope were consumed by a forest fire some years ago.

Down shifting to my lowest gears, I crawled and sweated up the hill, which reputedly had some short stretches of 16% grade; it certainly felt like it. I caught up with and passed a couple of riders, who were walking their steeds up the hill.

Then the road finally - finally! - re-entered a more forested terrain, with the cooling shade of the pines serving as a balm for my overheated body. I passed one of the 30 riders who would make the riders' list as DNF - Did Not Finish. This rider's bike was being loaded onto a sag vehicle - did he know how close he was to flat terrain and lunch? Two more switchbacks and I was up to Huntington Lake. A few more easy miles through the woods, past cabins and a post office, led to the Huntington Lake lunch stop, where I climbed gingerly off the bike and sat down a picnic bench with a few other riders. The DNFer showed up in the sag wagon, but he kept apart from the rest of us, and no one spoke to or of him.

Before the day started, I didn't believe I would reach Kaiser Pass, much less finish the ride. But at lunch I realized I only had about a dozen miles to go to reach Kaiser Pass. After all the way I'd come, what was another 12 miles? But it was pushing 3 p.m, so I had to get going. About five miles past lunch, at the northeastern end of the lake, the route reached another junction, taking me off of the loop road around the lake, and onto the Kaiser Pass grade. Initially the way was still on a two lane road. Riders have to endure a little over seven miles of slow climbing, up a grade that sometimes reached well beyond 12%, to reputedly 15% in some places.

A young man whom I'd passed walking up the Big Creek Grade passed me now, although from time to time he would dismount and walk, then I'd pass him, and then he would recover and mount up and pass me again. I had also caught up with Ron, a 60 year old rider from Fresno. He had zoomed by on a downhill on the Huntington Lake road. Ron had done the C2K ride before, and he had, according to what was printed on his yellow bike jersey, done at least three other rides, of 200 miles each, in the space of a year.

We reached a snow gate, which meant there were two more miles to the top, now on a very steep, one lane road. This was also the most beautiful section of the ride for me, leading through a forest of Ponderosa pines, wildflowers, and dripping springs. Ron and the hike-'n-biker fell behind a little as I continued, dropping happily into my lowest gear, riding around a few more switchbacks, and then up a steep, sweeping bend. Around the bend, a few riders swept down, offering congratulations and encouragement. A minute or so later the top of an awning on the side of the road hove into view, then the whole awning, and there were people waiting to greet me at the summit of the ride - 9,200 feet above sea level, with 11,800 feet of climbing behind me.

One or two riders sat listlessly at the rest stop. A third rider was on his bike and ready to make the descent: Gary, the man who had the goal of just reaching the top - he would need no ride in a sag wagon, after all. The staff on top of the pass were again so nice. They led me to a chair, and invited me to eat and drink. They also warned me that it was after 4 p.m. I ate a wonderful blueberry muffin. And I drank a long pull of Cytomax that I mixed into my water bottle. I refilled it with Cytomax, and put some in my CamelBak, too. Then I began my careful, joyous descent down the beautiful one lane road - my joy tempered by the fact there were another 75 miles to complete.

My speed picked up once I reached the two lane road, and after a few sweeping turns, the very blue surface Huntington Lake, looking more like a watercolor than reality, stretched out below. The junction with Highway 168 was next, back at the northeast corner of the lake. But instead of more downhill, there was the dreaded Tamarack Ridge, with four uphill stretches lasting from 1 to 2 miles each. At the top of the last climb there was the start of a fantastic, nine mile long descent. At some point Shaver Lake came into view, and as with Huntington Lake, it looked like a painting. At Shaver's northern shore, I passed the Big Creek turn off, which meant that for a time the route would be back on the portion of Highway 168 I'd come up, seven hours earlier.

Some uphill pedaling led to and through the community of Shaver. I had wondered what would happen when and if I ran out of energy. Would I suffer cramps, or would I just loose strength? It felt like the latter. But then I had another stop at the Church of the Lake and recovered a bit. I fitted my lights (thoughtfully brought up to the rest stop for me by the support crew earlier in the day), filled my Camelbak yet again, this time with Gatorade, and did the same for my water bottle, too.

Next came a twisting three-mile downhill. Instead of turning left, back onto the Tollhouse Road, the route turned right, onto Auberry Road. Many rollers later, the roaded reached the top of a revitalizing 12 mile descent. The hazy Central Valley was spread out below, the tops of the mountains of the Coast Range, rising out of that haze, visible across the Central Valley. Had it been earlier in the day, I would have descended into the heat of the Central Valley, but it was so late the temperature had cooled significantly, probably into the high 80s. I forgot my aching body on the long, easy descent, free from any dangerous turns or switchbacks.

The route led through the little communities of Auberry and, not too much farther, Prather, with hardly any uphill. At Prather people from two sag vehicles were waiting to point riders in the right direction at a junction in the road. Then sun set behind some hills, and perhaps another 10 miles led to an Exxon station and the last rest stop, where riders were provided with a cold towel for neck and shoulders, ice cream, and a chance to dip tired, hot feet into a plastic wading pool

There were the final 16 miles of pavement. Funny, at one time 16 miles would have seemed like a goodly distance to cycle. After all the way I'd come, what was another 16 miles? The way was mainly flat, with a few hills that should have been easy. In my weakened condition, I kept downshifting. Then I rode a fast four flat miles after the last turn, which put me on course for Letterman Park. For the final two miles I pedaled with another rider as we entered Clovis, and a sag vehicle protectively trailed us in the now very dark night.

The park appeared on our right, we missed the turn-off into the driveway, and so we pedaled back across the park grass to a barbecue dinner for the finishers. Someone took my name, someone else handed me a finisher's pin, we heard applause from the assembled riders, and the C2K was suddenly over for me, fourteen hours and thirty four minutes after I began. I walked over to my car, pulled off my ride jersey, and exchanged it for the jersey commemorating the Climb to Kaiser. It wasn't until a few days later that I noticed some hidden writing on the inside of the jersey, behind the pockets: "Kaiser Surgeon General's Warning: The person wearing this jersey may not have actually completed the Climb to Kaiser ride." It was a good thing I waited until I'd given my all to put on that jersey.

Fresno, California

 

Addendum:
Training, Preparation, and Lots of C2K Links

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