La Marmotte and The Death Ride
Two cycling events, both like in climbing,
Distanced by oceans and vast continents
But only seven days apart in timing.
The riding of both lacks some common sense.
From forth the fatal lanes of these two rides
Ten thousand pairs of quadriceps come strained.
Flatlanders dismount and walk the sides
Hunched o’er handlebars, their faces pained.
But with light wheels and twenty-nine tooth’d gears,
And heart rates kept well within bounds of reason.
A slowish rider getting on in years
Can tackle both in just a single season.
This link if you with ready mouse can click,
Can see the details and read all the shtick.
Well if Shakespeare (or whoever it really was) had been a rider I’m sure he (or she) would have done much better but you survived the “poetry” and you’re here.
I’m not entirely sure why, but I did two monster rides, La Marmotte and the Markleeville Death Ride, 6000 miles apart and on consecutive Saturdays this summer. La Marmotte is part of a series of “Cyclosportifs” that take place every year all around France. It takes place in late June or early July and attracts thousands of riders from all over the Netherlands, I mean Europe. It’s actually amazing how many of the riders are Dutch. As we were shivering at the start a guy told me that about 4000 of the 7000 cyclists participating were from Holland. I guess it has to do with the route. The ride is 107 miles and goes over 4 major climbs ending at the top of Alpe D’Huez, which, though firmly situated in the French Alps, is the Mecca of Dutch cycling.
I didn’t see any Dutch people at the Markleeville Death Ride. This annual rite takes place in the California Sierras, about 30 miles south of Lake Tahoe. It covers 127 miles and has 5 major climbs.
As I said, I don’t really know how I decided to ride both. I first heard about La Marmotte last summer when my regular riding partners, Heidi Greulich and Chris Farrar, having just gotten married and fresh from their honeymoon in the UK, thought that I’d make a good chauffeur/valet for their continued travels as part of Velo La Source’s inaugural Tour de France trip. I first read about it in Lonely Planet’s Cycling France book and became obsessed with the idea of riding the route. The week we spent perched on the side of the Alpe D’Huez, riding the great rides, eating the great food, drinking the great wine, and watching the TdF riders float up the mountains was wonderful. Most of the other riders were better climbers than me but I couldn’t convince any of them to ride the Marmotte route with me. On the last day I did my own mini-Marmotte with about 1500 fewer feet of climbing and 30 kilometers less distance. It was a grueling and wonderful ride but I went home vowing that someday I’d come back and do the real thing.
This past year (2004), Velo La Source initially planned to offer a trip focused on riding La Marmotte. I was interested but it turned out that it wasn’t practical, what with Rebecca and Adam's impending parenthood and big plans for the TdF and the huge Alpe D’Huez TT stage. I plucked up my courage and decided to go anyway, self-supported. I even managed to talk my very forbearing wife and daughter into coming along. Adam from Velo La Source, and Michael Baldwin, owner of the La Source Chalet were very helpful in arranging accommodations in Villard Reculas, the ideal place to stay for cycling in the French Alps.
Villard Reculas in the Early Evening
I took the preparation pretty seriously, loosely following a plan based on The Cyclists Training Bible, with the intention of peaking in the first week of July. I thought things were going pretty well, logging almost 2000 miles between the beginning of the year and the end of May. I got a rude awakening, however, when I decided to try doing a race. It was my first time racing since the late ‘80’s. Back then I didn’t win very often but I never had a problem staying with the Cat 4 pack. I went out to the Wachusett Road Race and was out the back in last place after the very first little climb. This did not bode well for my plans to do a ride with over 15,000 feet of climbing. I still had a month before we were to leave for France, though, so I increased my intensity a bit and felt reasonably strong by the time we left.
To make sure the trip was entertaining for all concerned, we planned to spend a few days in Chamonix before heading for Villard Reculas. Chamonix is amazing. It gets a lot of hype and it deserves it. Don’t let any jaded travel book writers dissuade you from visiting. The first day it was overcast and Mont Blanc occasionally appeared through gaps in the clouds. Even with the bad weather the scenery was spectacular. We visited the huge glacier called the Mer de Glace. In the afternoon I did a moderate ride over the Col des Montets and the Col de la Forclaz into the city of Martigny in Switzerland. The return climb up the Col de la Forclaz was a good warmup for the major climbing that was to come later in the week. It’s about 13 km of climbing at a steady 7% grade. There are supposed to be amazing views of Mont Blanc from the top but it was too cloudy to tell.
Mont Blanc in the Background. Linda and Sayuri in the Foreground.
We spent the next day hiking and soaking up the Chamonix vibe. Lots of Brits and Japanese. The Brits come for adventure and the Japanese for photography. We saw this in detail the next day when we took the cable car up to the Aiguille des Montets. At an altitude of over 3000 meters it was damn cold at the top, which was unfortunate because we had somehow left our daughter’s sweatshirt in the car. Most of the cable car riders were either mountaineers with full ice climbing gear, ready to venture out on the glaciers, or Japanese photographers with medium format cameras and big tripods ready to photograph the mountaineers.
Aiguille du Midi from the Aiguille des Montets.
Descending the cable car took forever which was a bad thing because I had big plans for the rest of the day. It was our transfer day to Villard Reculas and I had talked my wife into dropping me and my bike off in Albertville so I could ride the last 127 km of the journey while she and my daughter drove on ahead by a less mountainous route. It promised to be an epic ride crossing the hors categorie Col de la Madeleine and Col du Glandon, both TdF regulars, and ending with the 1000 vertical meter climb up to Villard Reculas. Unfortunately, by the time we got to Albertville it was 2 pm. I figured it was about an 8 hour ride but the sun sets really late in southern France. I’d been plotting this route for so long that I couldn’t resist pressing on with the plan. I figured that if I went pretty hard I’d be there not long after dark. Things started out pretty well. It’s remarkably easy to navigate in France. There are always signs. I had forgotten what a slog a major col can be, though. I was aiming to keep my heart rate in the range of 86-88% of max. This proved to be a pretty tiring pace. The first climb of the Madeleine was 26 km, 1500 meters of vertical, and took me 2 ¼ hours. I was pretty beat at the top. Looking back the way I had come I could see that the light on Mont Blanc was already beginning to redden with the approaching sunset. Looking ahead, the valley seemed incredibly far below and the next pass loomed in the distance, just as long and high as the one I had just climbed.
Looking Back at Mont Blanc from the Col de la Madeleine.
Looking forward to the Col du Glandon from the Madeleine. Glandon is the pass just to the right of center…in the distance.
After a snack at the café I climbed back on my bike and headed down. Those 20 km descents are amazing. After a few km of suburban riding I was back in the countryside and climbing again. I had ridden the Col du Glandon from the other side the previous year and regarded it as a long slog but not overwhelmingly steep. That was the other side. The north side is about 20 km, 1365 m of vertical at an average of about 6.6%. That doesn’t tell the whole story. There are beautiful stone kilometer markers. I had two sources of altitude information on my bike: My Polar 710 with a barometric altimeter and a new Garmin Foretrex GPS. Although GPS is not known for particularly accurate altitude readings I found the readings in the mountains to be dead on. I guess when there aren’t many trees the thing can see a lot of satellites. When I got to the marker that said I had 2 km to go and saw on my GPS that there were still 200 vertical meters to ascend I had just barely enough oxygen left in my brain to realize that meant 2 km at a 10% grade. This did not give confidence to my legs. At the top I was having a real hard time riding a straight line and it was definitely getting dark. I still had a 26 km descent to Allemond and then the 10 km climb up to our gite in Villard Reculas. I was beginning to think that it was time to call for help.
The descent was freezing cold and is quite desolate in the sense that you don’t pass many payphones. There was still a faint glimmer of light when I came to the final decision point before starting up to Villard Reculas. From my stay the previous year I knew that the road up was almost entirely in the woods. No civilization til you get to the village. On the other hand, I could have ridden down into Allemond and called for a ride. There were several reasons I didn’t. My wife doesn’t enjoy driving on twisty mountain roads. The road up to Reculas is all switchbacks and she would have had to do it in the dark. If I rode down into Allemond and failed to reach them by phone I would have had an extra couple of hundred meters of vertical just to get back to where I was so I decided to ride up in the dark. It was really spooky but I actually kind of enjoyed it. Knowing that this was the last climb of the day, my legs felt slightly refreshed. I saw more deer (4) than cars (1) on the way up. I’d ridden that road several times the previous summer and thought I knew it. I kept being sure that the next switchback would be the last, that it would flatten out and I’d cruise the last kilometer into town. It was only after I gave up believing that the climb would ever end that it actually did.
Triumphant but kind of cold I came to the scary realization that I had no idea where to go in the town. The plan was that my wife would call Michael and he’d show them to the gite but I had no idea where it was. I had thought I’d call my wife’s cell phone from a pay phone so that we could hook up. Unfortunately, the phone only took phone cards and I only had coins. I eventually decided to barge in on whoever was staying at La Source so that I could find Michael and he could point me in the right direction. I knocked on the door to Michael’s room and was greeted by his parents. He was out. They didn’t know where I was supposed to go but kindly let me use the phone to call my wife. She, of course, had just started heading down the road in the car to look for me since it was now totally black night. Anyway, we all found each other and even found Michael having a drink with a group of Brits who would be out riding La Marmotte.
The day wasn’t quite over yet, though. My wife informed me that my boss had called from the states and that I should call back. It turned out that the business trip that I was using as my ticket out to the Death Ride in California was going to be cancelled. Oy. Final stats for the day: 3990 meters of climbing (~13,000 ft.), 7 h 53 m in the saddle, not feeling strong at the end. La Marmotte was going to be 20 miles further with more than 2000 feet more vertical. If I could barely stand up after this ride, how was I going to survive that one, just 3 days away?
As you might expect, I didn’t ride the next day. We were all tired and didn’t leave Villard Reculas until the evening when we drove up to Alpe D’Huez so I could register for La Marmotte and collect my bag of swag. Signing up for the ride wasn’t too difficult. There’s an English version of the web-site. Some of it was a little confusing, though. You have to buy or rent a timing chip which you strap to your ankle for the event. It wasn’t clear to me how you determined whether you were borrowing the chip or buying it. It wasn’t til after the ride that I found out that I had chosen the more expensive (10 euro) option and am now the proud owner of a chip that I can use for any Grand Trophee cycling event in the future. Other than that, you just need to have either a medical certificate saying you’re fit to ride or a racing license. A USCF card does the trick. The registration fee was modest (25 euro if I remember correctly).
Although I wasn’t sure it was the best way to rest up the day before the big ride, I really wanted to see if my training had made me any faster up Alpe D’Huez than I had been the past summer. I rode it twice in 2003. The first time was on a very hot afternoon after having ridden Les Deux Alpes in the morning. I had to stop and refill my water bottles and it took me more than 1h 20m. I did it again several days later early in the morning and did much better, 1h 14m. Still not so good even by amateur standards. Recall that Lance’s time this summer was under 40 minutes and the pros did an extra km of flat before the climb starts. What was more amazing to me was that the “non climber” pros were mostly under 50 minutes. They must be a different species. Anyway, I managed to beat my previous summer’s record but only by a couple of minutes. I’m planning to spend a lot of time in the weight room this winter…
La Marmotte
The Route of La Marmotte. (Detailed View)
Click to see the video: Part 1 Part 2 About the video
The next day was La Marmotte. I slept horribly. I was quite nervous that it would be like the race I’d done a few weeks earlier. We’d hit the first climb and I’d watch all the other riders disappear up the hill and ride the remaining 150 km by myself. It dawned perfectly clear and quite cold…believe me I was awake. The ride started at 7:15 and, with 7000 riders, it seemed like a good idea to get there early. I had a cup of coffee, ate as much as I could possibly choke down and hopped on my bike at 6:42, just as the sun was hitting the tops of the mountains across the valley. The ride starts in Bourg d’Oisans, right at the base of the Alpe d’Huez road. It’s a short ride from Villard Reculas to the main road and then a screaming descent to the base. I was mostly screaming from the cold. The thing was that I didn’t want to carry all sorts of warm clothing that I wouldn’t need later in the day. All I had was a light jacket. Next time maybe I’ll go with a wind vest and arm warmers.
There were a lot of cyclists in Bourg d’Oisans. I pulled up to the end of the line and couldn’t see anywhere close to the front and it was still before 7. The French don’t believe in port-a-potties and it was hard to find an unoccupied shrubbery. I ended up chatting with the Dutch guy next to me in the line. The good thing for me was that the Dutch all speak excellent English. The bad thing for them is that very few of them speak any French at all so most of the people there didn’t understand what the organizers were telling them. It turned out that people who had pre-registered early enough and had numbers below 3000 got to start first. I was one of the lucky ones and bid my Dutch companion good-bye as I walked my bike through the masses. I probably walked half a kilometer before I could get on and ride.
Lining up with the Dutch.
It was still really cold so I kept my jacket on for the first 15 km or so. The ride first passes through the town of Allemond where there were plenty of people cheering us on. To get warmed up for the first real climb we rode up three switchbacks on the back of a dam at the end of town. Some people rode hard right away. I was determined to take it real easy no matter what. I knew I’d fall apart on the Alpe if I went hard in the morning. A British guy in my club at home had done La Marmotte several years ago and he had cautioned me to take it easy no matter how good I felt. I had said I planned to do the climbs at around 85% max heart rate. He said I should take it easier. I was afraid of going too slow to finish in the time limit so I decided on a heart rate of 82% or ~155. Once we made it to the start of the climb up the Col de la Croix de Fer I settled into my pace and waited for everyone else to vanish into the distance. Much to my relief it didn’t happen. Sure, there were plenty of people going faster but there were some who I was even passing.
This is a really long climb, 26 km or so, and it’s absolutely gorgeous. The sun was beginning to warm us and it was just beautiful to be sharing the struggle up the mountain with all these other equally screwy cycling fanatics. There were groups in club jerseys from all over Europe, Portugal to Poland. A surprising number of the riders were dressed up in pro team gear. It was particularly surprising to me to see the number of Europeans wearing Postal uniforms and riding carbon Treks. I only saw one other Seven, though. I assumed it was being ridden by an American but when I tried to talk to him it turned out he was Italian and didn’t speak any English at all.
Up to Croix de Fer.
It took 2 hours and 5 minutes to get up to the Croix de Fer, where the first feed station was. I was thrilled because 1, it was gorgeous; 2, I felt great; 3, I wasn’t anywhere near last place, 4, they had good food (figs, cheese, baguette), 5, it was gorgeous (it’s worth saying twice, it was incredibly clear and you could easily see Mont Blanc in the distance).
Good eatin’.
After a suitable pause I put my jacket back on and headed down the other side. The climb had been packed with riders all across the road. I didn’t envy the few people who were trying to drive down as we went up. I was worried about descending a tricky alpine mountain pass with that many people still together. It turned out not to be so bad. People left the rest stop in dribs and drabs and left plenty of room between riders on the switchbacks. I did have a scary moment though when I didn’t see a ridge in the road and almost lost my balance. It’s a great ride, though. 30 km of pretty much continuous descending. Even with all the people, I got above 40 mph at times.
After the descent, the next stage of the ride is the 13 km slog along the valley to the start of the climb up the Col du Telegraphe. Pacelines formed and this was one time when it was worthwhile to get the heartrate up enough to stay with the group. For the most part this wasn’t too hard. There was a really strong German girl riding on the front of our paceline for a while.
The Telegraphe is often belittled as a mere prelude to the real climb of the Galibier that follows. It’s not trivial, though. 12 km at 6.8%. I was still feeling good but carefully kept my pace in check with my heartrate pegged at that magical 82% that had felt so good going up the Croix de Fer. This was when I really started having fun because, much to my surprise, I was passing a lot of people. It was here that I saw the first signs of real suffering: People staring at their front wheels, a guy throwing up at the side of the road, even some people walking their bikes. I guess there are some people who think they can do an obviously difficult ride without training for it. Or maybe they just made the mistake of riding up the Croix de Fer more or less as fast as they could. I arrived at the top still feeling good. There wasn’t an official rest stop here but I bought a surprisingly good prepackaged croissant at the café. I heard plenty of English but most of it with British accents. I did run into a couple of Americans at the top of Telegraphe, though. They were from Albany, just across the border from my home state of Massachusetts and seemed to be having as much fun as I was. It turned out they rode about my pace and I had them in sight for most of the rest of the day.
From the top of Telegraphe you descend into the scenic alpine town of Valloire before starting the long slog up the famed Col du Galibier. The Galibier is often the highest point in the Tour de France, cresting at over 2600 meters. The 2nd official feed zone was on the road several kilometers past Valloire. By the time I got there, enough people had already been through that the pickings were a little slim. I knew I really needed to eat and downed as many banana fragments and little bits of baguette with brie as I could get my hands on. I had also brought along a few Clif bars and gels so I had no real worries about fuel. After a pretty long (15 minute) break I headed out to climb the Galibier. For a few minutes I had a notion of trying to go harder from here on in and bumped my pace up to 85% but soon began to feel the possibility of the onset of fatigue and chickened out.
Bailing on the ascent of the Galibier.
Slogging.
Even back at 82% I was passing many very miserable looking people. There were now plenty of walkers and a few people climbing into sag wagons. There were lots of spectators towards the top and the cheering was great. The best (by far) were a pair of very attractive young German women singing lively folk tunes in harmony, pretty fancy harmonies too. Near the top of Galibier there’s a tunnel for cars to go through to avoid the steep and twisty part of the road above. No self-respecting cyclist would take the tunnel and of course the Marmotte is only for self-respecting cyclists. The top is quite steep, though, and I was glad I’d been taking it easy. At least one didn’t have to worry about overheating. There was quite a bit of snow along the side of the road. The next to last feed zone is at the top. There isn’t even a café at the top of this col (fewer cars to provide business 'cause of the tunnel so the café is down a ways) so there are really no facilities. The Europeans aren’t shy though (see photo).
Invisible Port-a-Potty at 2600 meters.
The descent screams. Lot’s of switch backs. Don’t get too excited looking at all the amazing glaciers across the valley or imagining the generations of Tour riders who’ve taken the same curves at ridiculous speeds. Once things settle down, there’s a right turn at the summit of the Col du Lautaret and it’s (almost) all downhill back to Bourg d’Oisans and the start of the Alpe d’Huez. It was time to get in a paceline again because it’s not a very steep downhill. There’s a time limit on the ride. If you don’t make the turn onto the Alpe d’Huez access road by 6 pm they won’t let you continue (at least not officially, it’s not as though the road is closed). I got to Lautaret about 4:20 so I wasn’t worried at all. I stopped to buy a croissant at a patisserie in La Graves that I remembered from the previous year (I had watched the Beloki-Crash-Lance-Cyclocross stage go by right in front of it) and took some bad pictures at the famous dam crossing near the base of Les Deux Alpes. I then suddenly realized that I was going to have to work hard to make the time limit. Fortunately, that’s when Jan Ullrich showed up. Well of course it wasn’t Jan Ullrich, there’s no way I could have stayed on his wheel, but it was a large German person who seemed pretty strong. There was a head wind and we traded turns in front for the last 5 km into town and went pretty fast, pulling into the cutoff point just about on the dot of 6 o’clock.
I had agreed with my wife that I’d call her from the base of the Alpe so they’d know approximately when to meet me at the top. Once again, I had terrible trouble finding a pay phone. I eventually started riding down the last flat stretch before the climb starts plotting to ask a cell phone owner if they knew where I could find a pay phone. There were still plenty of people lining the side of the road, many of them riders who’d finished the Marmotte hours earlier with the fast people. I stopped next to a likely looking couple and asked my question in French. They looked at me blankly and then came to the conclusion through a conversation in Dutch that I was probably looking for a phone. They asked if I spoke English and, falling into my careful trap, offered me a cell phone. I called my wife and casually said that I should be at the top in somewhere between an hour and a quarter and an hour and a half. I was planning to go pretty much all out for the last climb and I still felt good so I figured I wouldn’t be too much slower than my best time up. I gave the Dutch guy’s phone back. He was really a very nice guy but he looked me up and down and pronounced that there was “no way” I’d make it up the Alpe in an hour and a half at the end of La Marmotte. I was worried that he might be right but I stuck with my plan to go pretty hard. The first pitch of the Alpe is pretty much the steepest. There are about 4 km worth of switchbacks at about 11% average. I got my heart rate up to 88% and was overjoyed to find myself flying past everybody else out there. Of course you have to realize that these were all the other people who just barely made it under the time limit but still…I never get to fly past people going up hill. Remember, 82% for all the climbs until the Alpe, it’s magical. Anyway, it stayed that way all the way to the top. I must have passed a hundred people. I was ecstatic at the top. I wanted to go back down and find the Dutch guy and tell him, 1 hour and twenty minutes, no problem. I think my family must have been thinking the same way as the Dutch guy because I passed them walking from the car a little way from the top. They couldn’t get a camera out quickly enough so I had to give them mine to get the requisite ego shot.
Nearly there.
The finish was a big party. There was a narrow space you had to pass through to get your ankle bracelet read and there were plenty of people lining the barricades and cheering everyone who came through. I finished with the very humble time of 12:07:02. Only 10:03:18 of that were spent on the bike according to my computer. It also took a good 20 minutes to get started once the official clock started running, given the crowds at the start. Maybe next time I’ll try riding at 83% and see if I can improve on that J
There.
The Death Ride
Luckily, when I got back to work on Monday I was able talk the powers that be into reinstating my business trip to Berkeley, CA so I could still get the company to pay for the flight. The downside of this is the nature of the trip. I’m an x-ray crystallographer, whatever that is, and trips to Berkeley mean using the very nice x-rays at the Advanced Light Source at Berkeley National Labs. You get to use the beam in shifts of 24 hours and one is expected to use all 24…no sleep. My time started Thursday morning so the plan was to get a hotel room for Friday morning and sleep for 4 or 5 hours and then drive the 3 hours to Markleeville, a little bit south of Lake Tahoe. It all worked fine and I met my friends (and fellow crystallographers) Janet Newman and Tom Peat at a motel just over the border in Nevada.
Eastern California. Not France but no less beautiful.
The weather for the Death Ride was every bit as nice, and as cold, as that for La Marmotte. This ride starts really early, we hit the road at 6:15, and the first few miles are downhill so I was really freezing…sound familiar?
The Death Ride has a totally different structure from La Marmotte. Markleeville is at the center of a star of sorts and one climbs the three passes that surround it: Monitor, Ebbetts, and Carson. For Monitor and Ebbetts you climb one side descend the other, turn around and climb back up from the other side and descend back toward the start. Carson you just go up the near side…that’s quite enough. Anyway, it’s a nice arrangement because if someone isn’t sure they want to do the whole thing there are plenty of bailout opportunities. La Marmotte has no bailout opportunities except perhaps forgoing Alpe d’Huez. If you want to stop halfway you better have someone who can come and pick you up.
The Route of the Death Ride.
Now let me tell you about Tom and Janet (who are married (to each other)). Janet spends a lot of time complaining about how much she hates climbing and how bad she is at it. It turns out that this is because her frame of reference is Tom. I visited them in Southern California once and Tom met me at the little Carlsbad Airport in his bike clothes. We drove out to the base of Palomar Mountain and started riding. He was kind and rode real slow (or so he thought) so that I could keep up if I nearly killed myself. Eventually I had to give up on nearly killing myself or I never would have made it up. I think he might have taken one or two breaths during the climb but I’m not absolutely certain. Anyway, we planned that Tom would ride at his own fast pace and Janet and I would try to stick together. This did not turn out to be a good plan. We hadn’t gotten very far up the near side of Monitor Pass when it became obvious that Janet was having a much easier time than me. I had extolled the virtues of 82% and she was cruising along, chatting, and casually mentioning that she was at just about 80%. I was at 86% and not able to talk about it very much. I stayed with her up to the top and down the other side. On the way back up we encountered the famous kids who run alongside the riders and give them NutterButters. I love NutterButters and that’s when Janet dropped me for good. She waited at the top and we agreed that it would be best for her to continue at her pace and me at mine. I didn’t want to slow her down and I certainly didn’t think I’d survive the ride if I tried to keep up.
Nearing the top of Monitor Pass. Janet adjusts her gloves?
The Death Ride has very different food stations from La Marmotte. For one thing, there are lots of Port-a-potties. There’s also a lot of variety of really good food. The best thing, though, are the volunteers. You ride into the food stop and someone runs up to you and asks if they can park your bike for you while you stumble over to the food tables. Then they offer you energy bars, gels, energy drinks…it’s really good.
From the back side of Monitor.
I don’t know if it was incomplete recovery from the week before, the higher altitude, or riding too fast up the first climb but I definitely didn’t feel as good during the Death Ride as I did during La Marmotte. It wasn’t horrible but I certainly wasn’t all confident and zippy. I wasn’t feeling like I could climb forever but fortunately Ebbetts pass isn’t that long. The back side only took about 50 minutes, even at my slow pace. After Ebbetts you figure you’ve done 4 out of 5 climbs and have only been riding 6 hours and 45 minutes. One climb to go, no problem. Carson sucks. It’s the longest, there’s a headwind, and there are cars. I forgot to mention it but the cool thing is that the roads up Monitor and Ebbetts are closed to cars til early afternoon. It’s so nice.
I thought I’d do like La Marmotte and hammer up the last climb. Well when I got there people were saying it’s almost a 2 hour ride to the top so I thought I’d just start going hard when I’m about an hour from the top. After all, I wasn’t feeling that great, my knees and the sides of my calves hurt a bit. Seemed better to wait. I climbed for about an hour at 82% or so and simply could not talk myself into trying to go faster when it came time to try. The climb is very gradual but somehow it just demoralizes you. It doesn’t end. Towards the top it starts to steepen a bit. OK, now I’ll turn it on…no way. When the crest finally appeared I was emotionally drained and close to tears of relief. I sat at the feed zone just beyond the summit and soaked up the sun for half an hour thinking, “Thank goodness it’s over. Thank goodness it’s over….”. The nice thing is that it’s almost all downhill from there. Fifteen miles of coasting, utterly exhausted, before a final short climb back to the start. Tom and Janet were, of course, long finished when I showed up. Janet had finished about 45 minutes ahead of me and was apparently among the top 20 women. Tom finished several hours before me and was in the top 50 overall. Everyone who finishes all 5 passes (there’s an optional 6th that I wanted nothing to do with) gets to sign a big poster. I wasn’t thrilled with my “form” for the ride but there was still plenty of room for my signature so I suppose I didn’t do too terribly. I’ll be back next year. Maybe I’ll show up a few days early to get a bit used to the altitude and I certainly won’t have done La Marmotte the week before.
Slogging up Carson.
Comparison:
| Marmotte | Death Ride | |
| Distance | 107 mi | 123 mi |
| Climbing | 17,027 ft | 14,258 ft |
| Avg. Altitude | 4,478 ft | 6,603 ft |
| Joel's Riding Time | 10h 03m | 10h 13m |
| Scenery | ***** | **** |
| Bragging Rights | ***** | **** |
| Food Stations | *** | ***** |
| Swag | ** | *** |
| Official Jersey | ** | ***** |
| Road Surfaces | *** | *** |
| Free Post Ride Dinner | * | ***** |