Cycling to the top of Mt. Diablo and back down last weekend
did not disappoint. The blue sky, mid-morning air was cool, the grass and trees
along the road flowed with the deep greens of spring.
This was my first solo ride up and down Diablo. It's a great treat, ad so far my favorite road bike ride.
The last time I’d ridden
it was in early October with my cycling buddy Marc, who had moved to Texas over
a year earlier, but was in the area for a brief visit. Then the grass was brown
and the sun a lot hotter. It was so warm on the sun-drenched south side mountain
climb that I spent a lot of time wiping away sweat pouring off my forehead
onto my sunglasses. Then there were the lovely occasional stinging sweat bombs dripping
into my eyes that made vision a serious blinking challenge. I needed a better headband
for sure, and paid the price for not having one. I’d pull off my sunglasses
while trying to keep my climbing momentum, and wipe my eyes on my sleeve.
Easier said than done when pedaling up a steep grade in the sun. Sure, I should
have stopped, and I think I did once. But I didn’t want to stop since I knew
Marc was no doubt gaining on me.
But there was no such mental push for pace this time. I just started
up the 13.5-mile twisty road to the top of the mountain at a pace that felt good. It is just shy of
a 3,800-foot climb, or 281 feet of climb on average per mile.
Then, a mountain biker passed me. The guy had a strong
cadence, and part of me wanted to grab his wheel and eventually pass him. But I
just stayed at my pace as the guy slowly lengthened his lead.
Then a road biker passed me with a very strong cadence. I
wanted to stay with this guy to build more pace. So I stepped on it, and
worked on closing the gap he had on me. I had to work hard, and it took all the
wind I had. But I started to gain on the guy. And I saw him pass the mountain
biker. Before long, I passed the mountain biker and on some steep switchbacks,
I gained on the road biker and finally pulled up next to him.
“You’re killing me, but at least you helped me pass the
mountain biker,” I said.
“Yeah, gotta do that,” the guy said.
He was out to set his benchmark times on the mountain for
the season. We agreed on the need to break away from always being obsessed with
keeping a good time, and to sometimes actually enjoy the scenery on rides.
We looked around, and we both agreed, the view and the
scenery before us made us lucky to be doing a ride as spectacular as this one. We were
already glider high up the mountain, with a huge view down to Walnut Creek and beyond.
There’s a park ranger shack at the nine-mile point in the
climb where most riders stop to eat snacks and top off their water bottles. As
we approached it, the road bike rider said it was time for him to pick up the
pace, and he pulled ahead. He got to the shack about 15 seconds before I did,
and then he headed back down. I still had 4.5 miles of tough climb to the top.
At the ranger shack I started in on my snacks and the young mountain
biker pulled in. I asked him if he’d ridden to the top before, and he said he
hadn’t. “Get ready for a very steep long pitch at the end,” I tell him. “Good
to get a running start. It’s nasty.”
He’s with about five other riders that start trickling in,
and says he got his aluminum frame mountain bike over a carbon fiber one
because, although it’s little heavier, it was about a thousand bucks cheaper.
“You notice the weight, though, the longer you climb,” he said.
He talked about riding trails back down the mountain.
I wondered why he would ride a mountain bike up a paved road. Probably doesn’t
have a road bike.
I used to ride my mountain bike on a paved bike trail before I
got a road bike. It was just the quickest place to ride when it was too much of
a logistical problem to get to a good trail with riding buddies who weren’t
available. But I got tired of constantly getting passed by roadies on much lighter
bikes that were perfectly suited for the paved trail.
I got back on the bike to for the final leg to the top of
Mt. Diablo and wondered if the upcoming sunny part of the ride was going to
cause the same forehead sweat-fest as last time.
The road is steeper than on the first part of the climb, and
it brings a series of tough switchbacks. After about three quarters of a mile,
mountain bike guy comes up and passes me.
“Go for it!” I yell at him.
At this point I have to ride at my own pace, and not worry
about him beating me up the mountain. But still...
Before long, I start gaining on him on the switchbacks,
then pass him again. I rest on the false flats and pick up the pace on the
switchbacks. A hammerhead rider suddenly passes me as if I’m stopped, and says
“Almost at the top!” He’s way too fast for me to get on his wheel. I just keep my
pace and drop a couple riders as I move up the mountain.
When I get to the very steep, extended pitch to the top, I
decide to stand up about half way up as a way to get some sort of cadence. But
this sucker is steep, about 15 percent grade, and it sucks the power out
of my legs, and the air out of my lungs. I just grind and grind,
giving it all I have to keep moving seemingly at a snail's pace.
In October, Marc caught me about 30 yards
from the top, and he was standing up with a strong cadence, in the lowest gear in his three rings.
I only have two rings on my bike so all I could do was crawl along. Damn!
Marc went into oxygen debt to pull off his victory, and gasped,
“That hurt!” about three times at the top. So, dude paid the price and earned
his victory, no doubt.
The view at the top was an amazing clear-day panorama, with the Sierra
Nevada range visible to the east and the Golden Gate and Bay Bridge and San
Francisco visible due west. Back in normal breath mode I got on the bike,
switched to my highest gear and flew down the mountain. It’s better than a
roller coaster ride, with a smile inducing mix of technical turns and speedy
flats that never disappoint.
Thanks again, Mt. Diablo. I’ll be back.
Til next time, remember to strap on a helmet every time you
get on the bike. Then, keep the rubber side down, ride safely, and have a
blast.
-- Mark Eric Larson
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