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Ride Report 10/6/07 – Angeles Crest Century (La
The ACC is a well
established century that got started around 1977 by the JPL Bike Club. It offers
some great, moderate climbing and, weather permitting, spectacular views of the
This was my first
real century and to find out what I was getting myself into I completed two recon rides of the route. The first was a four hour, 50ish mile, 5,000 feet of climbing round trip via
In the first recon
I finished convinced I could do the ACC using an 11-25 rear cluster. I thought
it would help on the descents. When I did the full century a few weeks later
on the more compact cluster I felt like I was running out of gears on some of the climbs.
I finished, but was very tired. The 7 to 8%, four mile leg up to the top
of
On the day of the
ride I arrived at Memorial Park a little before 6 am while it was still dark. Cars had already started to assemble across
the street and some of the riders were milling about getting ready. I had plenty
of time and spent some of it deciding how cold I thought the day would be. I
settled on a base layer under my jersey, full arm and leg warmers, full finger gloves and a wind breaker. I also stashed away a few Clif shots (life savers in my mind) and the quartered peanut butter and jelly
sandwiches I’d made the night before. I was determined to stay well fed throughout the day.
The ride organizers
(Planet Ultra) showed up carrying a folding table, some chairs and a couple of lanterns which they proceeded to set up in
front of the gazebo in the park. More riders started emerging from their cars
and drifted over to check in. This was definitely a budget affair. The race goodies consisted of a bag of Clif shot drops
and a scrap of paper with the route description on it. No rider numbers either, just a lime green smiley face bracelet to serve as a meal ticket when you reached
the top of Mt Wilson. Taking it all in, the group was mostly a rag tag assembly
of single and paired riders. Not a lot of camaraderie here, but what the heck,
I had come to ride, not join a book club.
As the 6:30 start
time approached, the group began assembling on
There were a few
sweeping turns before you really began the climb up onto Hwy 2. The original
group I’d been with at the start had spread out and I passed riders sporadically as we ground up the first mild climb. My legs felt good. I was averaging 9
mph on the 6% grade and did not want to start out too aggressively regardless of what other riders might be doing. Along the way I kept drinking and snacking every 15 minutes or so.
Traffic was extremely
light with an almost complete absence of the endless stream of crotch rockets I had experienced the week before. As I climbed towards the
I arrived at the
left turn onto
What came next was
a winding, rolling descent followed by a few sporadic climbs towards the Big Tujunga turn off.
The road surface conditions on this section of the ride were not the best, especially after the almost pristine tarmac
of
After the descent there were a few small climbs as you wind past a small café (closed) and a Church Camp Retreat of two. Through the tunnel and then up and over to the Tujunga turn off. Along the way I tagged onto the back of two riders and stayed with them all the way to the turn off. At the start of Big Tujunga we were joined by a guy with a huge wedge pack. I swear it could have held a gallon of milk. I watched him deftly remove his vest and stuff it into the thing while not missing a pedal stroke. Underneath he was wearing a jersey from some leg breaker century he was obviously proud to have completed. It quickly became apparent he wasn’t in the habit of washing it either. After a mile or so I’d had enough. On a small climb I pulled ahead and left them far behind scents and all.
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| Climbing Angeles Crest just after Big Tujunga (http://fotos.tlamantini.com/) |
A few
miles up the road you hit a café in Newcomb Ranch. The parking lot was full and I heard it’s not too bad. I didn’t have time to stop for a warm cocoa though and pushed onto another long stretch of climbing.
At this
point I was pretty much riding alone, we were that spread out. Once a big rider powered by me and I caught a few guys that
had stopped to relieve themselves. But for the most part it was just me and the
road, kind of nice and peaceful.
Just
before you reached the highest elevation of the day there was an S shaped switch back that takes you past the parking lot
for the Snowcrest ski area. As you round the right hand bend with the parking
area on your right you pass through a notch in the mountain with a sign proclaiming you’d hit 7,000 feet. Boy had it
gotten cold! You could see pockets of snow still clinging to the north facing slopes. Even with full finger gloves my hands
were numb, I mean REALLY numb. I was helpless to do anything about it and kept
thinking I’d grab the exhaust pipe on one of the SAG vehicles with my bare hands when I got to Jarvi.
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| Powering through the final corner to Jarvi Memorial Vista (http://fotos.tlamantini.com/) |
Once
through the pass there was a spot of downhill that swings past the
I pulled
into the rest stop and immediately removed my gloves, clenched my hands together and started exhaling through them violently. They were so cold they felt crisp, an unpleasant kind of crisp. One rider commented on the wisdom of bringing my full finger gloves and we shared a laugh when he saw how
little they had done to protect me.
I took
in my first and last Clif shot here as well as half a PBJ sandwich from the SAG buffet.
Up to this point I hadn’t really sampled any of the other fair being offered.
There was a pretty good selection, but all I can remember are the Rice Crispy Treats which I had no desire to ingest.
I didn’t
dawdle more then 10 minutes and was soon headed back down the mountain. I was
concerned about my hands, but thought the sooner I got this over with the better. As
I raced along I passed rider after rider coming up the hill. I was wearing my wind breaker again and it was of the billowy
nature so the drag it created prevented me from going as fast as I would have liked.
I never got over more than 45 mph which was pathetic, but in no time I was back at Newcomb Ranch and starting to warm
up.
At this
point all I could think about was getting to the base of
Once
I was back on the road I quickly hit the intersection with Big Tujunga where I’d turned onto Hwy 2 just three short
hours ago. This ended up being the more tedious part of the ride. It’s not particularly scenic and you can see the road up to Mt.
The
road to the top was essentially a single lane in very poor condition. The corners were littered with sand and rocks and its path is so random you almost feel the
graders were drunk when they plotted its course. Thank God I’d ridden this
the week before. This time I was in great condition. I glanced at my watch and realized I was precariously close to running
over 6 hours. I knew it would take me about ˝ hour to climb to the top, but I
didn’t want to blow up by trying to finish to hard.
That’s
when the riders started coming down the hill . . . One, then two, then a group of three. Four more passed by me. I was doing
the arithmetic as each one sailed past. So that’s nine, ok, I’m tenth, that’s good. Yes, I know it’s
not a race, but you’ve got to have goals right? Two more riders come down,
smiling. Damn, am I going to make top 20 or not? My hopes were fading fast. I didn’t remember this many riders coming down while I was riding up. Where were they coming from?
I finally
got to the split in the road that takes you around the massive antenna farm that covers the mountain. I started sprinting to get by them and into the parking lot I knew was only a few hundred yards ahead of
me. I rounded the corner to where the road merged again and up the driveway into
the parking lot. There it was, lunch!
As I
pulled in there were about six or so riders milling about downing sodas and chomping away on Subway sandwiches. I rolled up
to the time keeper to announce my arrival. I then parked my bike, grabbed a sandwich, took a seat on the wall and enjoyed
a well deserved lunch. I finally had a chance to look around a bit at my fellow
riders. They all appeared to be pretty fit and I have to admit my 2000 Lite Speed
looked very dated amongst some of their newer rides. For some reason I didn’t
bother to check on either my time or placing. Suddenly I just wanted to pack up and head down the hill.
It had
been a great ride physically. No real pain anywhere and at no time did I ever feel I was hitting a wall. I put my windbreaker
back on and rolled out after no more than 20 minutes at the finish. I had another 20 miles to go and knew the descent could
be a bit tedious, especially with traffic.
Once
again the jacket acted like a parachute, but I didn’t really care that much since the timed part of the ride was behind
me. There’s one real climb on this portion that lasts for no more than
a few hundred yards. It’s more of an annoyance at this point.
As I
wound down to the bottom, just before the fire station, I suddenly hit something in the road.
The ride on my back wheel started feeling squirrelly and I realized I’d flatted.
One of those damn pinch flats you get when you hit something and it squeezes the tube against the rim. It leaves a
vampire bite in your tube. I rolled to a stop at the fire station cursing myself
for allowing my attention to wander away from the road. The tube change went quickly and I was back on the road in no time.
The
last five or so miles rolled past in short order and I was soon back on the long straight leading to Foothill Blvd. I took a shortcut on a side street to avoid the construction on Foothill but had to make a quick U when
I realized it was a dead end. A few streets down I headed west again then made
a left onto La
I pulled
up to the car and started deconstructing. At one point another rider came up
to me and commented on how cold the ride was. I wasn’t sure if he wanted to strike up a conversation. I had to admit the end was a bit anticlimactic. No “Way
to go!” or “Hey we did it!”. No war stories. Just pack up and
go. Usually a ride seems to end with a BBQ of some kind. Thinking back, that’s
probably what’s supposed to happen back on top of
So to wrap it up, my first true century was a great experience. I was pleased with my performance, the overall quality of the ride was good and I returned just as enthusiastic as when I started. I will definitely repeat this ride next year. Later I found out I’d completed the trip in six hours and 2 minutes! I could have easily gotten under six hours if I’d hustled a bit more at one of the rest stops. My only consolidation is I did finish in the top 20, 18th in fact and that that feels good.
Total
Distance: 98 miles
Total on bike time (to summit of Mt. Wilson): 6:02
Average
speed: 15 mph
Maximum
speed: 42 mph
Total
altitude gained: 10930 feet
Average grade: 4%
Maximum grade: 10%
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