Ride Report 10/20/07 – Hideous 100 (Bakersfield, CA)

The Spooktacular is a group of six rides of varying length and difficulty sponsored by the Kern County Wheelman. As of this writing, the event is in its 21st year and offers something for every level of rider. It takes place on and around the southern most tip of the Sierra Nevada range just east/south east of Bakersfield, California.  Its most challenging route is the Hideous 100 which includes a climb up Breckenridge Mountain .  Because of its location on the calendar it can have widely varying weather conditions year to year so be prepared. It culminates with a post-ride gathering at Ming Lake with a fantastic all you can eat BBQ.

I heard about Spooktacular in late 2005 when I was visiting my folks in Bakersfield. I’d hooked up for a ride on a cold Sunday morning with a friend of my brother’s and while we were out he mentioned it.  It sparked my interest, but I had yet to be bitten by the century bug and merely filed the idea away for future reference.

Now, fast forward two years to September 2007. I had the Death Ride behind me and was getting ready for the Angeles Crest Century. I’d been roaming the Web looking for centuries and came across the Western States Bicycle Ride Calendar.  On it I found that the Spooktacular was coming up on October 20th. After poking around a bit more I decided to register for the Hideous 100. Little did I know as a pressed the “pay now” button just how challenging this ride would be.

As is my habit I wanted to recon the ride first.  I drove up early Friday morning (like 4:30 am early) so I’d arrive with plenty of time to at least do the climb up Breckenridge. I ended up pulling into Bakersfield around 7 am.

I was staying at my folk’s house and I stopped there first to unpack, have a light breakfast and just visit for a spell. At around 8:30 I suited up and zigzagged my way down College, to Fairfax, to Niles, to Weedpatch Highway and finally to Breckenridge Road. My intent was to see how far I could get in 3 hours.  Optimistically that would get me almost to the top.

It was a perfect day for riding, the sun was out and the temperature was in the 60’s. I won’t go into too much detail other than to mention that the route is VERY remote, has a few grades ranging from 10% to 14%, and offers road conditions that are guaranteed to realign your front wheel.  I turned around about a mile or so from the summit and was back home for lunch by 12:30 pm. The whole excursion came to about 6,000 feet of climbing and 66 miles round trip.

After a short nap I drove down to the Hilton Garden Inn on the west side of town to pick up my registration packet and route sheet. The race organizers had set up shop in one of the hotel’s conference rooms. The whole affair took about 30 seconds since I’d pre-registered on-line. I snagged a packet and then debated whether or not to buy a jersey, but decided against it. My cycling wardrobe already filled an entire closet.  The packet included a blue, rubber wrist band as rider ID and even some Halloween candy, Trick or Treat.

I awoke at 5 am the following Saturday, had breakfast and then packed up the car to make the relatively short drive out to Lake Ming. As I was making my way along the lake, riders with lights were already heading out onto the course. I had my light with me but had no concerns about being able to finish before dark so I was in no rush to get started. Also, groping my way through the dark on relatively unfamiliar roads didn’t sound too appealing either.

When I pulled into the parking lot there were already two dozen or so cars and trucks occupying it. The organizers had relocated registration to the Gazebo in the park along with a giant illuminated jack o lantern to help set the mood. The temperature was in the sixties with lightly overcast skies. I went through my standard routine of figuring out what to wear. The weather report promised conditions similar to yesterday’s so I thought I’d suit up to cover a 10 degree drop in temperature. Full leg and arm warmers, a base layer under my jersey, and a wind proof vest. No booties, full finger gloves or jacket seemed necessary at the time, much less a rain cape!

As I suited up I struck up a conversation with the fellow who’d parked next to me. He had come down from Northern California and was also riding this century for the first time. I could tell he was a bit nervous. He was doing the Horrible Hundred which avoided the climb up Breckenridge by circling around the back side and then retracing itself down to Caliente. His major concern was getting lost, so I tried to assure him that the organizers were out marking the course as we spoke.

As the light started to get better I decided to depart and quickly found myself in a group of about eight other riders.  As we headed out along the lake one guy apparently flatted within five minutes of starting. Talk about bad luck!

We made the left turn onto Alfred Harrell Hwy and followed the long sweeping right turn that took us to the intersection with Highway 178. I was feeling optimistic and really looking forward to the ride. The night before I had studied the route description and realized the century took a hefty jaunt eastward after the descent down the back side of Breckenridge.  At the time I had no idea of how interesting that extra bit of road would make the ride.

At the intersection with 178 we sort of regrouped. When the traffic light changed I tagged onto the back of a three man. The lead guy, Tony, took the first pull and dragged us all the way to the top of the hill. I was impressed. It seemed a little early in the game for heroics but I wasn’t going to complain. I had no delusions of staying in any kind of a group, but with 100 miles and 10,000 feet to go it seemed prudent to save all the energy I could.

About six miles from the start we made the left turn onto Breckenridge Road which would take us all the way to the top. It started out as open rolling hills used for grazing cattle with homes sprinkled here and there. The road conditions at this point were good, but since this was not a major thoroughfare its quality control suffered accordingly.

There was an easy climb to a mild downhill and then a run along a ravine. Cow patties were everywhere so you had to pay attention. At this point one of my companions, I think his name was Lou, flatted. I was torn, do I stop and help or continue riding? I was interested in my overall time, but then again there’s the social aspect of these rides that helps make them memorable. I decided to stop and help out. Just as we got started pulling his tire off the rim an SUV pulls up and two ladies dressed as angels complete with wings and halos hopped out with a floor pump. Talk about heavenly intervention! Ten minutes later we were back on the road laughing about the whole thing.

For the next 10 miles the route just meandered its way up off the valley floor into the surrounding mountains. The grades got to 12% on some of the curves, but it was nothing too difficult. The vegetation gradually evolved from dry grass, to oaks, sage brush, and manzanita, then to scattered pines. The hills got more sculpted and rugged as you slowly gained elevation.

At the 19 mile mark we hit the first rest stop. Tony’s bike was making noises so he had to do a quick repair. I scarfed down some chocolate chip cookies, a banana and half a muffin. I also topped off my water bottles. By this time, Tony had fixed his front derailleur and we took off.

The next five miles were pretty much the same as the last five, rolling hills, sweeping curves, and degrading road conditions. It also started to sprinkle, not much, but enough to be noticeable. I saw that the major incline we’d be hitting in about ½ an hour was completely shrouded in clouds, a distinct difference from the previous day’s conditions.

Somewhere along this stretch a rider suddenly powered up behind us and went through the middle of our little group. He literally shot right up in between. I thought, what the . . .!? All of a sudden Tony and Lou locked onto his back wheel and were off. So much for sticking together! I had to chuckle though knowing what was ahead. I was pretty darn sure I’d be seeing them again.

At this point I began catching and passing a number of solo riders that had started out before me. At the first rest stop, the SAG support had told us about eight riders had come through so that meant I was in somewhat of the lead group, at least for now.

At mile 25 you suddenly hit a sustained 9 to 10% grade that runs for about a mile. The road really goes to pot too, though at 5 mph it isn’t much of a factor. On this little stretch of agony I passed another few riders struggling to get up the hill. As the road swung up and to the north it really started to narrow and the trees closed in. The weather took an ominous turn at this point too. The temperature was dropping, the rain was becoming a bit more persistent and the clouds had settled in over the mountain.

Along the way a big powerful rider, who I would later learned is some kind of an MTB champ, powered by me like I was standing still. He was kitted out in shorts, a jersey and some arm warmers. I thought, geez he must be cold. Then up ahead I saw Tony. Within about 1/4 a mile I had caught and passed him. He was taking the hill at his own pace and we chatted briefly as I meandered past.

I finally reached the false summit where the road wasn’t as steep. It was now very foggy and very wet. I wasn’t soaked, just starting to get chilled. The road picked its way through the forest so you had to be careful not to inadvertently over cook the turns. At some point I gave up on my fogged up glasses and shoved them in my back pocket.  I continued to pass various riders as the road wound amongst the trees.

After coasting through a marsh-like area I swung around past a cabin (it was for sale BTW) and on to the 14% grade I had taken the day before. I think it must be something like 100 to 150 yards long. It’s definitely a crawl. I caught one guy on my way up. We could have exchanged addresses it took so long to get by him. I didn’t feel like I was going to have to stop and walk or anything like that, it was just wet and steep so I took my time. A little later, as I’m shoveling a quartered PBJ into my mouth, another rider came up behind me. We exchanged grunts as passed me. I figured there must be a group of relatively strong riders somewhere behind me.

With the steepest grade behind me it must have been no more than a mile to the 2nd rest stop at the summit. Boy was I glad to come around that corner and see the SAG tent. There were about six or so riders there and I quickly parked my bike and dug in. THEY HAD HOT COCOA! I drank my first cup while I downed some cookies and a muffin, and then got two more cups.  Damn it tasted good.  More riders started pulling up until there must have been almost 20 of us.  We were all pretty wet and cold. No one was completely prepared for the weather and some appeared to be grossly under dressed. How they were surviving I could not tell you.

So there you are at the top of the mountain. It’s wet, cold and foggy and you’ve got 70 miles to go. What do you do? I decided to get the heck out of there. I did not want to get comfortable. Conditions were deteriorating and I started to think what it would be like descending with all these guys, especially if they were ballsy. I quickly mounted up and headed out.  Two guys were just ahead of me and I passed them and started down.

I was on the brakes almost the whole way. The fog was bad enough that I couldn’t tell which way the road was going to turn next. It was wet, sandy and COLD. My hands were frozen to the brake levers (When I got back home and had cleaned the bike up I checked the back brake pads. They were literally stubs!). The sand and grit on my rims were making all kinds of racket, like 50 grit sand paper on bare metal.  Once or twice I became precariously close to overcooking a turn.

I thought the descent would never end and fully expected to be caught by the group behind me since I was going down very cautiously. However, no one did and I actually caught the two strong riders who were pulled over.  I shouted out if everything was ok and they shouted back yes. I surmised one of them had flatted.

As I got into the valley the road evened out a bit and the visibility improved drastically. The rain stopped too. When I arrived at the bottom I thanked the heavens above for permitting me to survive that one. Two guys were there waiting at the intersection and we exchanged explicative’s about what we’d just been through. The sun had even come out so I had a faint hope the worse was behind me. Fat chance . . .

Now came a winding southward descent through the valley on Caliente Bodfish Road, an open, two lane affair. There were some pretty flat stretches and a few fast runs. It was kind of a blur. I got passed a couple of times by riders I’d left up on the mountain. Now and then I’d end up in a group of two or three, but it never lasted.

It was raining sporadically and the wind was coming from the northwest. I suddenly found myself in a four man with the two strong riders and Lou.  We came into a wide valley and all did some good pulls.  It was great fun and we took it all the way to the 3rd rest stop at Walker Basin Road. This was pretty much the halfway point and the junction for that little extra jaunt eastward I’d mention previously.

I took a leak, grabbed a cookie or two, loaded up my bottles and left alone. Folks were mingling and I wanted to keep moving. I powered on for about four miles thinking all the while I’d be back on Bodfish in no time. Wrong. This little detour on Walker Basin was a 30 mile haul to the next rest stop in Caliente.

My original gang of three caught me and passed right on by. I didn’t have the energy nor the desire to lock onto one of their back wheels. Within a few minutes they were up the road and gone.

At first it was ok, windy, but no real rain. Then, the rain hit and it just kept coming. I knew I was in trouble when my feet finally became completely soaked around the Twin Oaks Store. That’s when the cold started seeping into my core, I was shivering. The road seemed to wind endlessly as it hugged Caliente Creek, down, down, down into the valley. It was mind numbing.  In better weather it would have been fantastic, but under these conditions it was brutal. What a slog!

Gradually the trees thinned and the ravine widened a bit. I’d cringe every time I came upon a cattle crossing.  There must have been over ten scattered throughout the ride.  Cold hands and wet conditions made them seem treacherous.

The rain finally let up and my odometer told me that the lunch stop in Caliente was just up ahead.  I can’t describe what a relief it was when it finally came into sight.  The set up had been downsized a bit due to the weather. The lunch tables were all up ended and everyone was clustered around the tents.  I immediately went for the hot cocoa and a sandwich.  When I looked about everyone appeared pretty miserable.

As I stood there freezing one of the SAG support told me they’d set up a Coleman stove in the back of a U-Haul trailer behind the tents.  I wandered over to find the two strong riders I’d tagged along with 40 miles ago huddled inside.  They were in worse shape than I and were both shivering uncontrollably.  Over time another eight or so riders found this refuge.  We were quite the sorry sight!

Throughout the ordeal the SAG support was great. They kept feeding in cups of hot cocoa and more sandwiches. After I finished mine I realized I wasn’t really warming up.  It was just too cold and I was completely soaked.  The stove did little, though the company helped make the suffering tolerable.  With great hesitation I finally got up and jumped down from the trailer. I wanted to get moving and see if my situation might improve up the road.

As I was getting back in the saddle, riders were throwing in the towel as bike’s got loaded onto various SAG support vehicles.  I couldn’t blame them.  It was really miserable and at that point it didn’t appear the remaining 20 miles would be any better.  I mounted up heading south and then made a quick right to a gradual climb that would lead us to the final descent into the valley.