Ride Report 7/11/09 – Death Ride (Markleeville, CA) 

As I’m sitting here now documenting my third straight year of participating in the Death Ride I feel like I have grown into somewhat of a veteran century rider.  Doing something like this once classifies it as satisfying a curiosity or urge. Attempting it twice is proving the first success wasn’t a fluke.  But repeating it for a third time migrates it into establishing a tradition and with that comes a level of familiarity and experience that is both comforting and invigorating.  I’ve accumulated quite a log of miles over the last three years and with those miles have come both highs and lows.  Highs and lows in altitude, temperature, physical condition, heart rate, you name it.  But through it all I can look back with great satisfaction on the experiences cycling has brought me both physically and mentally.

So to start off the mere fact that Hans and I were doing the Death Ride was due entirely to the perseverance and ingenuity of his wife Paula. I’m not sure exactly how she was able to secure us spots, but I do know it involved opening something like 300 simultaneous registration windows on her Mac and then submitting them in Gatling gun like fashion as the 8 am registration window opened.  Somehow she got two queries to stick and we were in.

Ok, so that was way back in January. Now fast forward to July with hotel reservations made and many training miles covered. This year we decided to depart the Thursday before the ride as opposed to the Wednesday, as was our previous custom.  Altitude acclimation never had seemed to be a problem so we felt the lost day would not impact our performance. Especially since this year the weather looked like it was going to be fantastic.

We picked up the mini-van Wednesday night with the usual joking and general harassment that accompanies driving these wonderful abominations.  Don’t get me wrong, it unbeatable transport, but it’s a mini-van for God’s sake! I reconfigured it that night for storing the bikes and our gear and then focused on putting the finishing touches on my packing.

The following morning we were on the road by about ten and, with a few short stops along the way, arrived in South Lake Tahoe around seven in the evening.  Along the way we stopped in Markleeville to pick up our registration packets.  It’s always amazing to witness the logistical precision with which the organizers prepare for the Death Ride.  It’s run like a military operation what with the staging and sequencing of all the support facilities and supplies. My hat goes off to the Alpine County Chamber of Commerce, their attention to detail makes for a great day of riding.

We checked into our usual haunt, the Holiday Inn Express, and then went straight to dinner. Back at the hotel it was lights out around nine.

The following day we decided on a short acclimation ride up the west side of Carson Pass along Highway 88. We parked at Kirkwood and then headed up.  Right off the bat I felt, well, winded.  Maybe this one day to acclimate strategy wasn’t such a good idea. When we got to the top of the pass we compared notes and Hans expressed sa similar experience, shortness of breath.  Oh well, too late now.

We rode back down and then did the brief climb out of Kirkwood to cap off the day.  At the top we met a fellow taking pictures who came over to chat. He asked if we were doing the Death Ride and told us he had done the ride himself back in the eighties.  Pretty cool we thought.  After Hans conducted a brief iPhone interview of me we rolled back down to the van.

After loading the bikes we decided to give the Kirkwood Inn & Saloon just across from the entrance to Kirkwood a try. It’s situated in a 100 year old log cabin so it has a bit of charm and the food was great.  We’ll definitely return when we’re back in the neighborhood.

With our ride and lunch behind us we drove back to South Lake Tahoe for a little bit of shopping at the Pearl Izumi outlet, Hans’s outfitter of choice.  Then it was over to the hotel for final preparations, extensive lounging about and in-depth discussions on the virtues of various chamois crèmes.  I noted that for some reason my front tire was not holding air, so rather than risk it I did a quick tube change. Other than that, the bike was mechanically perfect and ready to roll. We chowed down on pizza for dinner and got to bed early again since we’d be waking up around 4 am to get to the start by 5:30.

The alarm sounded way too soon, but we both “bounded” out of bed and quickly kitted up and got the car loaded.

It took us around half an hour to get to Turtle Rock Park via Luther Pass, or should I say about a mile down the road before Turtle Rock Park.  Although we’d timed our departure to be riding by 5:30, as has been the case in the previous two years, the amount of riders who had arrived before us and parked was greater than any time in the past (this would prove out during the first two climbs when I found myself passing huge amounts of riders).  No matter, the mileage covered (and climbing) would be the same no matter where we parked. We found a parking slot and quickly retrieved our bikes from the back and suited up.  The weather was fantastic, only a base layer and light arm warmers would be required, and I was certain the arm warmers would be shed at the top of Monitor.

Under the glow from the waking eastern horizon we set off on that magical traverse thru sleepy Markleeville. It’s inspired the same sense of anticipation and excitement in me each year. The combined whir of so many rear axles always gets my blood going. It’s like being surrounded by a swarm of angry hornets.

Hans and I stayed pretty much together all the way to the left turn up to Monitor. Along the way a rider behind me started talking about the current goings on at the TDF.  I had no interest in hearing any updates since I was recording all the stages and wanted to enjoy them in their entirety.  Hence I accelerated to get out of range and as a consequence pulled Hans along with me.

As the road tipped skyward on the Monitor ascent Hans and I said our farewells, wishing each other a good ride. With that I kicked it up a notch and started moving (carefully and considerately of course) up the left side of the road.  As I had mentioned previously, I was able to pass gobs of riders. It was clear lots of folks had intentionally gotten an early start. As I learned throughout the day many felt it would be necessary to complete the ride in the allotted time, though I can’t imagine why this year the concern was so elevated.

My initial plan was to keep rolling all the way to the rest stop at Scossa’s Cow Camp.   To execute this strategy of course required that I consume a significant quantity of my onboard stores of Powerbars, shots and gel as well as take advantage of a dual bottle fill-up at the Running Boy water station.

The climb up Monitor felt pretty good and the legs strong.  There seemed to be two distinct classes of riders on the way up, those I passed and those that passed me. The latter were several orders of magnitude less than the former, but this year I noticed some really strong folks, guys and gals. About ¾ of the way up Monitor a guy in an all white kit came steaming down the road. The guy must have smoked the climb to make such time.  Needless to say I saw quite a few back wheels on my way up.

At the top I paused only long enough to get my sticker and then throttled it to the descent.  This year the traffic was much lighter which made the descent a whole lot faster and enjoyable. Several times I had to pass SAG motorbikes, but made sure I didn’t compromise safety. The long hill down to Topaz was great, but once again I noticed a huge amount of riders starting up the first stages of the ascent back up Monitor as I cruised through the last few turns to the second sticker stop.

At the bottom I stopped only long enough to get a sticker and then immediately started the ascent.   What a crowd!  Back with the pack I gradually made my way up the east side of Monitor.  As was the case last year about a mile into the climb a caught Hans screaming down the descent. Calling out was pointless, but I was glad he was making such great time.

Along the way I had lots of time to check out my neighbors. Death Ride brings out the full spectrum, from what appears to be folks who just rolled off a park bench to Cat 1 hammerheads. It’s all part of the spectacle.  A guy in gym shorts and a t-shirt soaked in sweat passed me somewhere along the way. How can somebody survive this ride in gym shorts?

By the time I got to Running Boy I needed both 20 ounce bottles refilled so I used two of them to get the job down. I just managed to get my last bottle from the second kid who looked like he needed a short break. Unfortunately he didn’t get the top on all the way and only about a third of my first swig ended up in my mouth.

About halfway up things began to thin out relatively speaking and I found myself pacing a given group of riders. The sun was by now well up and the temperature at a comfortable level. I was still feeling good and as I topped Monitor again I moved along the last mild climb to get to the descent.

As I’ve written before, this is my favorite one of the ride and it did not disappoint this time. I slammed it, passing riders continuously. But everybody kept their wits about them and in no time I was at the bottom. I made the left turn back onto Highway 4 to the accompaniment of several cow bells.