ATTITUDE NOT ALTITUDE

Riding high in New Mexico

By EAT MORE LARD

February 1^st, 2016

Preparation

November was a huge month for me. For Movember, I committed to riding to work (70km) every day to raise money for Men’s Health. On top of that, I put in three 200km+ rides at the weekends during the month, including an overnighter. It all seemed like a good idea at the time but it was the cumulative early starts that took their toll. By the time December rolled around, I had lost my mojo and barely put in any quality riding before heading off to Albuquerque, New Mexico - yes, that Albuquerque from Breaking Bad fame - to spend time with the family. Putting all of it together, it makes sense - fatigue, a 20 hour plus journey, a transition from a hot summer to a below zero cold, cold winter and altitude. No wonder it was a struggle!

The end of January is the annual Audax Alpine Classic, a big milestone for me each year. With 3 weeks away, I planned to at least get a couple of rides in and figured quality - secret altitude training - over quantity would prevail. Albuquerque is dwarfed by the bulk of the Sandias mountains, a ski resort that tops out at over 3200m, some 1700m above the Rio Grande river. Most people access it via a 15 min cable car trip but, handily, if you like climbing mountains there is a road that goes up the far side, taking 24km to climb 1300m. In anyone’s book, that has to be considered a quality riding opportunity!

SOCKED IN

It’s just before Christmas in the mountains of the northern hemisphere, right? The weather is a lottery at this time of year and you just take what you can get. A few days before Christmas, a weather window opened up so I grabbed a hire bike. I asked about riding up to the summit at this time of year and was met with a look that you might expect if you had just said that you had escaped from being lost in the Sahara for 3 weeks followed by “I don’t know. It might be clear. Don’t know anyone who has tried…”. Perhaps they were wondering about the chances of seeing the bike again?

The forecast was for snow showers in the evening with a maximum temperature of around 0C at the top of the mountain. It was a cool day when I set out from Albuquerque, immediately feeling a little sluggish as the road climbed out of the city following the old Route 66. Even though the climb proper starts at just under 2000m, there is almost 500m of elevation gain to get to the start. I was still getting used to riding on the wrong side of the road (and with brakes the opposite way around too) and feeling out the attitude of the car drivers. So far so good. Progress was slow and despite a reasonable headwind, I was soon at the bottom of the climb. The sun was even out and I was thinking I was overdressed and all those extras clothes I had bought with me for the descent would be unnecessary.

Already there was a fair amount of snow under the trees and I was somewhat surprised and concerned that even at this altitude there were a few sketchy pieces of road that I would have to watch out for on the descent, especially in the shadows. It’s a heavily forested road and at this time of year the sun just doesn’t get into those tucked-in corners. The climb, though, was super enjoyable. Easy hairpins, a good surface and a consistent gradient. Apart from one flat spot, it hardly seemed to vary between 5 and 6%.

It wasn’t long into the climb before the sun disappeared and dark clouds rolled across the endless skies. The temperature dropped with the gloomy skies but the legs were still comfortable enough to just kept on turning over, albeit not at a pace that was likely to challenge any leaderboard. Once past the base to the ski lifts, the already quiet roads were virtually empty. The body was feeling the altitude now as 2600 and then 2700m passed. As I climbed higher, light snow started to fall. Within 15 mins it was getting quite heavy and I was wrestling with myself over what to do. I decided to crack the 3000m and then turn around and not push on for the summit.

I was glad I did. Once I was on my way down, now wearing everything I owned as it was -5C without the windchill, the road was seriously starting to build with snow. By the time I passed the ski lifts, 9km from the bottom of the climb the road had all but disappeared. It was a blizzard and I was rolling with one foot unclipped, barely able to see the road. There was no thought of pulling out the phone and capturing the moment. Survival was on my mind and it was getting serious. All thoughts of the climb had long gone. I was asking myself what I was doing. Why hadn’t I turned around earlier? Why didn’t I stop at the ski lifts and try and get a lift? I wanted to be home with my family - my wife and my girls - not dying on some stupid mountain because of my love of riding up them.

It continued like this until about 2km from the bottom where the snow was stilling falling but at least the road was now only wet. Off the main part of the climb, I stopped to clear my head. I had been stupid and I had got away with it. It was only a bike ride and nothing worth dying over. I felt like crying but I didn’t. I had to finish the job and get the most important part done - getting home. I continued to head downhill through the snow towards Albuquerque, being filmed by passing motorists. At Tijeras I spotted my escape, a local branch of Subway and swung into its now inviting oasis. My helmet and entire front were covered in snow and ice and I was soaking. I grabbed a cwaffee in the warmth, swallowed my pride and a whole serve of stupidity, and called in a support pickup (for the first time ever) whilst making a puddle in the corner as I thawed.

“You picked the first snow storm of the season to be on the mountain” noted the guy working there whilst someone else in a ute offered me a lift back to Albuquerque. Soon the cavalry arrived and I had survived the day on the mountain. After a few hours, I had calmed down a little but the fact I hadn’t finished it off still nagged at me. I had made the right decision and had a tale to tell - gravel bikes are so 2015, bring on the snow bike on 23mm for 2016!

Write your story here. (Optional)

Driving wasn't fun, let alone trying to ride a bike!

RETURN to the mountain

The next day I stayed in the valley, sensibly avoiding the snow and checking out the easy bike paths along the Rio Grande river. Every time I looked east, that mountain was there (well it was behind the clouds but you get my point). We had more snow over Christmas and it looked like my chance for a second attempt had gone. Just after New Year I went up the mountain on the cable car with the family on a stunningly beautiful day. It was 5C on top without a breath of wind and that massive turquoise sky. The forecast for the next day was the same again so I made the decision there and then to give it a crack one last time!

This time the forecast didn’t lie. It turned out I had only been 4 corners from the summit, maybe 3km, when I had been forced to turn around. Those last few kilometres at over 3000m hurt though. The legs burned and it felt like I was riding with the brakes locked on. I kept looking for a granny gear but I was already in it. The thinning air was having a noticeable effect (or was it the excesses of Christmas?). Once I had enjoyed the view from the summit and sidestepped the questioning from the people milling around, I set off on the descent, taking it easy to avoid those icy patches. In the summer, it would a super fast, easy descent with only a few technical sections to deal with. The drivers were in general excellent. They were patient and gave me plenty of room with the one obvious exception who though it would be hilarious to swerve at me and pass at less than than 30cm - there is always one, of course, but at least it made me feel at home!

I’d exorcised my demons and set a new above sea level record on the bike, 3241m, besting the previous 2808m on the Col de Bonnette in France, but, yep, it hurt. You don’t just roll up mountains this big and it makes you work for every metre but it delivered amazing views and a huge sense of satisfaction and is a reminder that true alpine monsters don’t always require a trip to Europe!

Thanks to the family for supporting the madness and rescuing me on attempt number one and to the Gunckles for the lend of the beautiful Bianchi for the second and successful attempt!