This isn't really a climbing/mountaineering trip, but I thought this was cool enough to deserve a post.
I had heard about Death Ride before and had written it off as basically impossible for me. Over 100 miles and 13,000 feet of elevation gain. I had never managed more than the 8600 feet of gain that I did on my Colchuck and Argonaut link up years ago, and the only century I had ever biked had absolutely destroyed me. But I was determined to get in great shape for summer, and what better way than signing future me up for suffering? My friend Jacob was of course also on board.
The Death Ride climbs six passes (an out-and-back, up-and-over of 3 passes) in the Sierra Nevadas. (Other iterations of the course have omitted the Alpine Grade in favor of up and down Carson Pass to make for 5 passes with slightly more climbing.) Pretty much all of the real biking is on closed roads, which is incredible. There's no other way to bike these passes without sharing narrow roads cars and taking your life into your hands. The support and community are incredible, too. There's something about the atmosphere that helps you just keep on going. Which brings me to an important point: this is a ride, not a race. There is no prize for finishing first, and everyone is there to have a good time.
I had been doing a lot of cardio via swimming in the month leading up to the ride, but was behind on my biking. True to my style, I also had a last minute work meeting pop up that was taking place 2 days before the ride and that I couldn't skip. Normally not a huge problem, but it turned out that this meeting was in the UK. At least the time change would be working in my favor coming back. I caught the early flight on Friday morning out of Heathrow, arriving home by late afternoon. I took a shower and packed as Jacob got out of work and drove over to my house, and then we loaded the bikes and left. I was home for 2 hours, all told. We had a campsite reserved at Kit Carson campground that night about a half hour from the start line. We got in around 10pm in the dark; I set up a quick bivy and caught a few hours of sleep before the 3am alarm.
The Death Ride nominally starts at 5am, but many people will get an early start. Remember, it's not a race, so no one is "cheating" by doing so (even though the ride packet explicitly tells you not to, mainly for liability reasons because the roads are not closed yet). It just saves you fewer hours of cooking in the July heat, and may save a few folks from the cutoff times. We had missed the afternoon/evening registration the day before, so we still needed to pick up our bibs. All told, we were on the road at 4:30am.
Monitor Pass is first, going up and over until the junction with Highway 395. We took it very easy, stopping at all of the aid stations on the way. The vertical relief from the top of Monitor down to the East Side was striking; we topped out right around sunrise. The East Side is beautiful, but gets incredibly hot. I was glad to tackle this one first. We had lunch at the bottom of Ebbets Pass and then kept moving. I dropped my backpack here; I usually like to bike with a backpack that lets me carry extra supplies and hydration, but I was getting really into the spirit of the "supported ride" and ditched it.
The outbound side of Ebbets is the largest climb of the day, at 3700 feet. I had an attack of calf cramps partway up Ebbets and limped into the aid station at the top. I discovered that they were handing out shots of pickle juice, and greedily downed 3, hoping to ward off continued cramps. All told, I probably drank about a liter of pickle juice throughout the day, trying to stay ahead of the cramping.
Going in, my threshold for a successful day would be to finish three passes. This would effectively be my first 10 kft day by any human-powered means, and I was prepared to be proud of that and call it. But even through I was pretty wrecked from Ebbets, I was not ready to be done yet. I started rolling downhill towards the Pacific Grade. This is the lowest-quality stretch of road on the ride; I managed to vibrate one of my water bottles out of its holder. Suddenly, I was really regretting not having my backpack with its camelback.
The Pacific grade is unfairly steep. I'll admit, I had to walk a few sections. I think it was probably faster walking anyway. Once I had battled to the top of Pacific Grade, the hard part was over. Continuing down to Lake Alpine only added another 700 feet or so to the round trip. And once I made it to that end, I would have to finish to get back to the car. Starting down was committing to finishing the whole thing.
Ascending Pacific Grade from the west is far easier, but I was really feeling the heat and the length of the day. There was no aid station up there, so I pushed through to the bottom of Ebbets. I got a second wind coming up Ebbets, although I ended up needing to take a couple of breaks on the way. Just for fun, I checked the area where I had lost my water bottle; I saw a flash of white a bit off the road and down the slope, but it was a discarded beer can. However, I did find an entirely different water bottle. It even had some liquid in it! I wasn't desparate enough to drink it yet, but I was out of water and it was nice to have the option.
The road back to the start from the top of Ebbets pass is a long downhill, and I ended up pushing hard here. I regretted it once I was rudely reminded of the secret last 700 foot climb up to and through Markleeville. It was solid Type II fun pain cave, and I pedaled that last steep driveway up to the finish line totally exhausted. A popsicle and a nice cold beer at the finish brought me back to life.
