Wired Cola

On Friday, I exploited my day off (I work a 9-day fortnight) in the service of going for a big ride with friend and club-mate Tobin.

We were scouting the Clear Creek hot springs, with the idea that a larger group might ride in later this year. We knew the bare details: distance of not quite 100 km over dirt roads that were described as passable by a 2wd vehicle in the summer. I estimated a worst-case ride time of 5 hours.

That was off.

The road contained far more elevation change than we had anticipated. The first 5 km of the ride take you up about 1500 feet. That's about the high point, but from then on the road oscillates between hitting the lakeshore and climbing a few hundred feet into the hills for no apparent reason. The road was dirt, but in our case, it was mud, at times reducing us to sub-20 km/h on flat or even descending sections. Descents were so steep we could rarely make up time or get a real rest.

The mud and grit turned into a destructive abrasive paste that covered our bikes and caused the moving parts to make terrible noises.

The last 10 km before the spring were a long uphill drag as we followed the creek. With about 5 km to go, we abruptly hit the snow line. It was a foot or so deep, still (a local later informed us this was a very late melt-off).

We tried climbing it for a hundred or two hundred metres. It was impossible to ride, and barely walkable. We estimated it might take another hour to reach the spring, plus the return trip, which would not have been any easier. And that's where we gave up.

The ride back was a negative-split nightmare that left us gasping on every climb, eating all our food and drinking all of our water, in my case a 2-litre allotment that I had assumed would only be necessary in case of a disaster. It would be fair to call the ride progress a mild disaster. In the last hour or two, I had to walk virtually every ascent of consequence owing to fatigue and an unusable low gear (the big rear cog was dangerous to use because my rear derailer was gently tinging off the spokes). Note of course that the final hour included that 1500-foot ascent we did earlier.

We made it to the car mud-soaked and fatigued, and desperate for food. We ate in Chilliwack at the airport cafe (where we also had a very nice breakfast) and drove back to town, where I was late for, well, everything.

Socially, a disaster. Physically, one of the most humbling things I have ever attempted. Mechanically, I am still afraid to look at my bicycle.

Highly recommended.