Mt Hamilton
38.8 mi, 4,908 ft
Owing to Monday's fortuitously being a holiday, the ride was somewhat more interesting than the typical bike commute. All the responses to my solicitous team email pertained to travel plans for the long weekend; the route was therefore selected on the merit of solo-ride excellence. Not, for example, a ride wherein one could collapse alone on the coastal side of the Santa Cruz mountains, unable to muster the energy to return. This ride was Mt Hamilton, on naturally the hottest day of the year so far.
For those whom have not yet had the good fortune to ascend Mt Hamilton, some information. It is a rather tall peak east of San Jose, with a long but relatively un-steep climb (~6% grade), culminating in splendiferous views from the parking lot of the Lick Observatory. The ascent comprises three stages: six miles up then two miles down, three miles up then 1 mile down, and finally seven more miles up. It is imperative not to consume all energy available on the way up, as the "descent" contains still three more miles of climbing.
Mt Hamilton and I have a bit of history already, not previously captured in my pre-blog, pre-Strava era. The first attempt, circa July 2016, was only the second ride I had ever undertaken containing any variety of hill. Team Captain chose it on the basis of possibility to turn around at any point and roll back down, omitting the part about the descent climbs in his description. That day was super hot, in the middle of the scorching South Bay summer heat. Miraculously, via a soothing combination of coaxing and distraction, Team Captain actually persuaded me all through stages one and two, and two miles into stage three, where just five miles from the summit I collapsed and begged to die. At one ascending point on the return of this abortive attempt, I lay down in the dirt by the side of the road for approximately an hour, bravely endeavouring to recover in the shade. Team Captain somehow made the summit and returned to the car before my completion of the ride.
The second attempt was a successful cheat, with the summit attained after Honda Civic-ing stage one to an intermediate parking lot circa Mile 8. The third attempt did actually result in slow agonised success from bottom to top of mountain, fuelled by rage at having been laid off the preceding day. The ensuing descent was miserable in the freezing rain, with blue numb hands gripping the brakes in terror at the prospect of sliding right off a turn.
This, the fourth attempt, promised to be quite different. After a year and a half of 26-mile daily bike commuting given the relative distance of the post lay-off position, painful metamorphasis has led to blessed rebirth with mighty thighs of steel. Instead of dread, a flood of joy at the beginning of the climb. The summit of stage one was rapidly attained with nary a twinge more malevolent than an aching bladder; there are inexplicably no toilets at the start of the route, though mercifully a portaloo at the eight mile parking lot. The short miles of stage two passed rapidly, then onto my old nemesis, the final stretch. Incredibly, a graceful ascent, actually passing other riders, apart from the cheat on the electric bike whom elicited a judgmental head shake from a third party. The Lick Observatory appeared closer and closer, and then, by midday, there it was.
A delightful half hour at the top, taking pictures, gnawing on trail mix, and expressing wondered envy at the fabulous Marmite-themed bike jersey of another Brit inexplicably astride Mt Hamilton. This prompted a heated discussion amongst the amassed bikers regarding the relative merits of Marmite versus Vegemite. As a half-Brit, half-Aussie-convict-type, I myself have a foot in each camp, though if pushed will confess to a slight preference for the darker shade and increased viscosity of yeast extract to be found in the latter.
A marvellous descent, made all the better by passing a rider in a Death Ride jersey, which is indicative of a serious level of bike commitment in Northern California. Upon closer inspection, the rider was at least four decades my senior, and the jersey was from 2009, but nonetheless, a great achievement on my part. It has taken considerable practice, focus and teeth grinding to overcome an utterly irrational fear of rapid descent to attaining the speed of a normal rider down a twisty road. There was considerable elation to observe on subsequent examination of the Strava feed that the descent speed was truly middle of the pack and no longer bottom quintile.
The perfect solo ride!
If you enjoyed this content, please consider sponsoring my Bike MS 2018 ride! The process is as easy as clicking this link and hitting "Donate to Jessica". Despite the button label, it is in truth the National MS Society that receives the donation, and not Jessica herself.
http://main.nationalmssociety.org/goto/jessicaadams
Owing to Monday's fortuitously being a holiday, the ride was somewhat more interesting than the typical bike commute. All the responses to my solicitous team email pertained to travel plans for the long weekend; the route was therefore selected on the merit of solo-ride excellence. Not, for example, a ride wherein one could collapse alone on the coastal side of the Santa Cruz mountains, unable to muster the energy to return. This ride was Mt Hamilton, on naturally the hottest day of the year so far.
For those whom have not yet had the good fortune to ascend Mt Hamilton, some information. It is a rather tall peak east of San Jose, with a long but relatively un-steep climb (~6% grade), culminating in splendiferous views from the parking lot of the Lick Observatory. The ascent comprises three stages: six miles up then two miles down, three miles up then 1 mile down, and finally seven more miles up. It is imperative not to consume all energy available on the way up, as the "descent" contains still three more miles of climbing.
Mt Hamilton and I have a bit of history already, not previously captured in my pre-blog, pre-Strava era. The first attempt, circa July 2016, was only the second ride I had ever undertaken containing any variety of hill. Team Captain chose it on the basis of possibility to turn around at any point and roll back down, omitting the part about the descent climbs in his description. That day was super hot, in the middle of the scorching South Bay summer heat. Miraculously, via a soothing combination of coaxing and distraction, Team Captain actually persuaded me all through stages one and two, and two miles into stage three, where just five miles from the summit I collapsed and begged to die. At one ascending point on the return of this abortive attempt, I lay down in the dirt by the side of the road for approximately an hour, bravely endeavouring to recover in the shade. Team Captain somehow made the summit and returned to the car before my completion of the ride.
The second attempt was a successful cheat, with the summit attained after Honda Civic-ing stage one to an intermediate parking lot circa Mile 8. The third attempt did actually result in slow agonised success from bottom to top of mountain, fuelled by rage at having been laid off the preceding day. The ensuing descent was miserable in the freezing rain, with blue numb hands gripping the brakes in terror at the prospect of sliding right off a turn.
This, the fourth attempt, promised to be quite different. After a year and a half of 26-mile daily bike commuting given the relative distance of the post lay-off position, painful metamorphasis has led to blessed rebirth with mighty thighs of steel. Instead of dread, a flood of joy at the beginning of the climb. The summit of stage one was rapidly attained with nary a twinge more malevolent than an aching bladder; there are inexplicably no toilets at the start of the route, though mercifully a portaloo at the eight mile parking lot. The short miles of stage two passed rapidly, then onto my old nemesis, the final stretch. Incredibly, a graceful ascent, actually passing other riders, apart from the cheat on the electric bike whom elicited a judgmental head shake from a third party. The Lick Observatory appeared closer and closer, and then, by midday, there it was.
A delightful half hour at the top, taking pictures, gnawing on trail mix, and expressing wondered envy at the fabulous Marmite-themed bike jersey of another Brit inexplicably astride Mt Hamilton. This prompted a heated discussion amongst the amassed bikers regarding the relative merits of Marmite versus Vegemite. As a half-Brit, half-Aussie-convict-type, I myself have a foot in each camp, though if pushed will confess to a slight preference for the darker shade and increased viscosity of yeast extract to be found in the latter.
A marvellous descent, made all the better by passing a rider in a Death Ride jersey, which is indicative of a serious level of bike commitment in Northern California. Upon closer inspection, the rider was at least four decades my senior, and the jersey was from 2009, but nonetheless, a great achievement on my part. It has taken considerable practice, focus and teeth grinding to overcome an utterly irrational fear of rapid descent to attaining the speed of a normal rider down a twisty road. There was considerable elation to observe on subsequent examination of the Strava feed that the descent speed was truly middle of the pack and no longer bottom quintile.
The perfect solo ride!
If you enjoyed this content, please consider sponsoring my Bike MS 2018 ride! The process is as easy as clicking this link and hitting "Donate to Jessica". Despite the button label, it is in truth the National MS Society that receives the donation, and not Jessica herself.
http://main.nationalmssociety.org/goto/jessicaadams
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