Ride: Palmdale to WC
Posted: Tue Mar 27, 2018 11:29 pm
58 miles 7,400ft gain or so.
Went to an air show in Palmdale with my homie, and he dropped me off near Little Rock creek reservoir. At 1900, I headed up the canyon towards Alder Saddle. Ran into a family on ATV’s after dark. They said I scared the shit out of them, and they were impressed and fist-bumping me when I told em I was headed to Azusa. We shook hands and bid each other farewell, and I continued into the night.
The road is paved near the reservoir, but quickly turns to dirt. It is paved a short distance before reaching Alder Saddle, and remains so for the rest of the journey.
There were two water crossings before the road climbs into the mountains in earnest, both are those concrete road sections that traverse a stream. The first one was about ankle deep, and pretty cold. There’s a bit of a lip partway across, and that section is surrounded by that super slippery black algae you find in canyons here. I saw it from the shore and knew what it was. I eventually decided to take my socks and shoes off and carefully walk across. This worked well. My tires slipped around a lot on the black stuff, but I took short careful steps and didn’t get wet.
The second crossing was a little easier, but had the black algae as well. Same method, same result. I carried some of my warm layers in bags strapped to my fork, which were not waterproof. They are very close to the water, so I was real worried. If they got wet and I needed to bivy, I’d be very uncomfortable. At this point I should mention I brought my sleeping kit and Gatewood Cape (shelter), as I figured all week leading up to the ride that I may bivy before going over the mountains. As my buddy dropped me off in the foothills, I decided to ride through the night, unless the situation dictated that I bivy (which was not the case).
My well founded worries regarding my clothes getting wet prompted me to buy some waterproof bags with my REI dividend. Having been hypothermic before, yet having dry clothes inside a pack that was immersed in water for hours has convinced me enough of the importance of such things. I will now be much less paranoid whenever I sense a change in the weather, or the stream crossings I deal with, and so on. Money spent in this fashion keeps me alive.
The road winds up the north side of the pass near Alder Saddle, and eventually I cross the PCT. I was happy as always when I encountered the first pine trees an hour or so previously, and now I was in a foggy dark place with the wonderful smell of pine surrounding me. This smell always makes me feel much more comfortable. Many good memories. A peaceful place. I continue on, and the road turns to pavement. I check my gps map programs to verify my position (paranoia in this case), and turn left to head towards Horse Flats. It’s a bit cold by this point as I’m wearing shorts and a wool t shirt under a thin fleece longsleeve with a beanie. The visibility is between 10-100ft or so, up in the clouds. I wind my way to Three Points, often at very slow speeds when the visibility drops to less than 10ft. I put my polypro long johns on in the bathroom, and then head up the 2 towards Islip Saddle. At this point I put the Joe Rogan podcast on, and he’s talking to the dad of the guy who runs Scientology right now. My headlamp starts to die, so I turn it off, running on moonlight when it peeks through the dense cloud cover. It’s around midnight now. Whenever a car passes by, I go to the far edge of the road or turn out and stay still, as I want to be completely out of the way and don’t want anyone to talk to me. If anyone saw me, I’d imagine they’d be a little spooked.
Riding through the tunnels by Williamson was neat, as the fog crept into the tunnel about 50ft, and went from almost no visibility to suddenly clear all the way through in an instant. I continued through and up to that little chill out area turnout with bathrooms at the top of the hill, just west of Islip Saddle. The clouds cleared a bit and it was super beautiful having the half moon illuminate the sea of clouds below, with the ceiling at about 4,500ft. Jupiter was extremely bright in the southeast sky, and I could almost swear I could see her four brightest moons. I put my helmet on for the downhill, installed my headlight onto my aero bars, and turned my headlamp off. I’d saved my headlight for the downhill, as the battery life ain’t great, and once I’m in Azusa I have to contend with human traffic. I ate a few snacks, put all my layers on, and began the descent to Islip Saddle.
Visibility was total crap at the saddle. I carried my bike around the gate, and set off south, a true hardened criminal at this point for so horribly violating the closure. I will never forgive myself. What will the queen do with me? The road had an insane amount of rockslides on it. I was really impressed. The biggest rocks were the size of a sofa, with smaller chunks littering several short stretches of the road for the first few miles. I had to carry my bike over some short sections, but it wasn’t bad. The Scientology guy was still being interviewed at this point, and I was switching back and forth in my head between his conversation and my own in my head.
It all cleared up a mile or so before the gate, and smooth sailing remained between here and Azusa. Around the last gate as if escaping a cycling dictatorship, and away we go down 39, one of my favorite roads. I turned my tail light on to blinky mode. I love the geometry of many of the corners above Coldbrook Camp, and even at this point I had fun aggressively attacking them, finding the ideal line for my condition and with my Mondial tires. My tire pressure was 20psi lower than I’d like for this, so it felt slow. No biggie. Rode down to west fork, and managed to get over the next hill by Rincon before stopping at the OHV gate to remove my layers. Got back on a bit chilly, and warmed up slowly for the next short climbs and low angle descents. The rest is usual 39 downhill affair. I had a tiny bit of very light rain a few times once I passed SG Dam. Again in Azusa, and then it stopped around Covina. Made it back to the house at 4am.
Overall it felt rather easy. I ride almost every day, usually 20-30 miles of stop-start riding in traffic, since October, so that has had an effect on my strength. Hills aren’t hard anymore, at least paved ones or the local fire roads. I find I limit myself in my head far more than what my body can do, and far more than what my mind can do once I’m out of the house, out of the city, and working hard.
Went to an air show in Palmdale with my homie, and he dropped me off near Little Rock creek reservoir. At 1900, I headed up the canyon towards Alder Saddle. Ran into a family on ATV’s after dark. They said I scared the shit out of them, and they were impressed and fist-bumping me when I told em I was headed to Azusa. We shook hands and bid each other farewell, and I continued into the night.
The road is paved near the reservoir, but quickly turns to dirt. It is paved a short distance before reaching Alder Saddle, and remains so for the rest of the journey.
There were two water crossings before the road climbs into the mountains in earnest, both are those concrete road sections that traverse a stream. The first one was about ankle deep, and pretty cold. There’s a bit of a lip partway across, and that section is surrounded by that super slippery black algae you find in canyons here. I saw it from the shore and knew what it was. I eventually decided to take my socks and shoes off and carefully walk across. This worked well. My tires slipped around a lot on the black stuff, but I took short careful steps and didn’t get wet.
The second crossing was a little easier, but had the black algae as well. Same method, same result. I carried some of my warm layers in bags strapped to my fork, which were not waterproof. They are very close to the water, so I was real worried. If they got wet and I needed to bivy, I’d be very uncomfortable. At this point I should mention I brought my sleeping kit and Gatewood Cape (shelter), as I figured all week leading up to the ride that I may bivy before going over the mountains. As my buddy dropped me off in the foothills, I decided to ride through the night, unless the situation dictated that I bivy (which was not the case).
My well founded worries regarding my clothes getting wet prompted me to buy some waterproof bags with my REI dividend. Having been hypothermic before, yet having dry clothes inside a pack that was immersed in water for hours has convinced me enough of the importance of such things. I will now be much less paranoid whenever I sense a change in the weather, or the stream crossings I deal with, and so on. Money spent in this fashion keeps me alive.
The road winds up the north side of the pass near Alder Saddle, and eventually I cross the PCT. I was happy as always when I encountered the first pine trees an hour or so previously, and now I was in a foggy dark place with the wonderful smell of pine surrounding me. This smell always makes me feel much more comfortable. Many good memories. A peaceful place. I continue on, and the road turns to pavement. I check my gps map programs to verify my position (paranoia in this case), and turn left to head towards Horse Flats. It’s a bit cold by this point as I’m wearing shorts and a wool t shirt under a thin fleece longsleeve with a beanie. The visibility is between 10-100ft or so, up in the clouds. I wind my way to Three Points, often at very slow speeds when the visibility drops to less than 10ft. I put my polypro long johns on in the bathroom, and then head up the 2 towards Islip Saddle. At this point I put the Joe Rogan podcast on, and he’s talking to the dad of the guy who runs Scientology right now. My headlamp starts to die, so I turn it off, running on moonlight when it peeks through the dense cloud cover. It’s around midnight now. Whenever a car passes by, I go to the far edge of the road or turn out and stay still, as I want to be completely out of the way and don’t want anyone to talk to me. If anyone saw me, I’d imagine they’d be a little spooked.
Riding through the tunnels by Williamson was neat, as the fog crept into the tunnel about 50ft, and went from almost no visibility to suddenly clear all the way through in an instant. I continued through and up to that little chill out area turnout with bathrooms at the top of the hill, just west of Islip Saddle. The clouds cleared a bit and it was super beautiful having the half moon illuminate the sea of clouds below, with the ceiling at about 4,500ft. Jupiter was extremely bright in the southeast sky, and I could almost swear I could see her four brightest moons. I put my helmet on for the downhill, installed my headlight onto my aero bars, and turned my headlamp off. I’d saved my headlight for the downhill, as the battery life ain’t great, and once I’m in Azusa I have to contend with human traffic. I ate a few snacks, put all my layers on, and began the descent to Islip Saddle.
Visibility was total crap at the saddle. I carried my bike around the gate, and set off south, a true hardened criminal at this point for so horribly violating the closure. I will never forgive myself. What will the queen do with me? The road had an insane amount of rockslides on it. I was really impressed. The biggest rocks were the size of a sofa, with smaller chunks littering several short stretches of the road for the first few miles. I had to carry my bike over some short sections, but it wasn’t bad. The Scientology guy was still being interviewed at this point, and I was switching back and forth in my head between his conversation and my own in my head.
It all cleared up a mile or so before the gate, and smooth sailing remained between here and Azusa. Around the last gate as if escaping a cycling dictatorship, and away we go down 39, one of my favorite roads. I turned my tail light on to blinky mode. I love the geometry of many of the corners above Coldbrook Camp, and even at this point I had fun aggressively attacking them, finding the ideal line for my condition and with my Mondial tires. My tire pressure was 20psi lower than I’d like for this, so it felt slow. No biggie. Rode down to west fork, and managed to get over the next hill by Rincon before stopping at the OHV gate to remove my layers. Got back on a bit chilly, and warmed up slowly for the next short climbs and low angle descents. The rest is usual 39 downhill affair. I had a tiny bit of very light rain a few times once I passed SG Dam. Again in Azusa, and then it stopped around Covina. Made it back to the house at 4am.
Overall it felt rather easy. I ride almost every day, usually 20-30 miles of stop-start riding in traffic, since October, so that has had an effect on my strength. Hills aren’t hard anymore, at least paved ones or the local fire roads. I find I limit myself in my head far more than what my body can do, and far more than what my mind can do once I’m out of the house, out of the city, and working hard.