Mt Baker

The road to Mt Baker was cleared of snow this Tuesday to Artist's point, and I took full advantage of that this weekend and climbed it on Saturday.  On the drive up there, it was still rather overcast, and only the broad shoulders of the mountain were visible.

I started the climb at the Ranger Station, about 24 miles from the summit, which provides an opportunity for parking, changing and a natural break.  The road starts up from here, but at this point the gradients are milder and the road stair steps up with some flats and even brief downhills.  It follows the Nooksack River upstream, at some points the valley is quite wide, but at others the slopes close in on both sides as the road climbs up and the river is visible far down the valley below.

The early going is a fairly steady gradient and is nicely shaded.

The road truly starts up in earnest with about 12 miles to the summit, and continues steadily for that duration.  After a long haul with the mountain to my right, I encountered the first of the switchbacks that become more frequent when as you reach the top.

The next set of switchbacks looms.

After climbing a long way through forested slopes, the trees give way to alpine rocks and meadows just about the same time that the road flattens out for a brief respite at the ski area.  From here, it is just a couple more miles to Artist's Point, though in the best tradition of climbing, the road continues to steepen from here.

This is where the first embankments of snow can be found along the roadside at this time of year, and it always reminds me of some of the Alpine passes of the Giro in May.  The snow certainly has a cooling effect, when combined with the wind.  With nothing to impede the wind or shelter the rider at this point, as the road switchbacks up the grade, the wind alternately helps and hinders the ascent.

Ride to the clouds.

At the top, it's time to scarf down a granola bar, put a hat on under the helmet, and put a windshell on prior to the long descent.  Despite these preparations, the first part of the descent leaves me shivering with the cold of the snowbanks and the speed and sweat evaporating.  I would never make this climb, even in the hottest weather, without some warmer clothes to descend with.  Once I got below the snow line, the temperatures increased, and it was a comfortable ride back to the ranger station, mostly down hill.

The Amazing Glasses of Enforced Sunny Optimism

I've had to break these out more than I would have liked recently, but they're a great tool in the proverbial box when you need them.

I simply put them on when the weather is being less than cooperative, then repeat to myself one of the following cheerful affirmations and proceed on my ride:
"It's actually kind of bright out."
"I think it's clearing up."
"It's only a sprinkle."
"It's really just a light mist, mostly."
"It's not raining, that's just marine layer."

Velominati Seattle Summer Cogal

Last weekend I met up with some of the guys from Velominiti for their Seattle Summer Cogal, and it was great fun.  I was admittedly a little apprehensive and nervous, as I usually ride solo and haven't tested myself much in matching other's accelerations.  Also, this was to be my longest ride to date this season, and I was concerned about taking in adequate food.  I arrived just in the nick of time to avoid Delgadoing, and said, "you guys look casually deliberate," as I rolled up to the group of about 12 in the parking lot.

Sitting in second wheel when the pace was not too high.

We departed under leaden skies and moist, but not wet roads.  It is said that the Inuits in Alaska encounter so much snow that they have 17 different words describing different varieties, and we here in the Pacific Northwest have the same relationship with rain and its variants.  Soon after departure, the roads became more rural, and the pace and grade ramped up, and I was happy to be able to follow the wheels - until I couldn't.  At some point during the second or third climb, I just suddenly started going backwards through most of the group and popped right off the back.  I came to an intersection and not knowing which way to go, simply stopped and waited for someone who had some notion of where we were going, and soon, the one known as @eightzero appeared to guide me into Snohomish.  We chatted most of the way there and actually ended up beating the group that had dropped us to the coffee shop, as they had taken an unplanned detour at some point.

The second half of the ride was much the same, getting dropped once the pace ramped up on the hills, but hanging in there on the flat.  I was fine dropping back and wait for those behind, and we beat the lead group, who had again ventured off the parcours to the beer meeting back at Red Hook.  The rain mostly held off until we were back at the brewery, and the last 5 miles or so, we had a huge tailwind pushing us beerward.

Rolling easy (in the red Canada jersey) as the other James (blue jersey to the right) contemplates dropping the hammer on the group.

Thanks to @mcsqueak for the pictures.

A Gem

There's a peculiar weather phenomenon around here, typically in the winter, when it's grey all day, but the sun peeks out from below the clouds as it sets large and yellow just above the horizon.  Today was one of those days, nevermind that it's early June, that just such a sunset graced us.

The Ride

"The world is like a ride in an amusement park, and when you choose to go on it you think it's real because that's how powerful our minds are. The ride goes up and down, around and around, it has thrills and chills, and it's very brightly colored, and it's very loud, and it's fun for a while. Many people have been on the ride a long time, and they begin to wonder, "Hey, is this real, or is this just a ride?" And other people have remembered, and they come back to us and say, "Hey, don't worry; don't be afraid, ever, because this is just a ride." And we … kill those people. "Shut him up! I've got a lot invested in this ride, shut him up! Look at my furrows of worry, look at my big bank account, and my family. This has to be real." It's just a ride. But we always kill the good guys who try and tell us that, you ever notice that? And let the demons run amok … But it doesn't matter, because it's just a ride. And we can change it any time we want. It's only a choice. No effort, no work, no job, no savings of money. Just a simple choice, right now, between fear and love. The eyes of fear want you to put bigger locks on your doors, buy guns, close yourself off. The eyes of love instead see all of us as one."  - Bill Hicks.

The Ride

"Eat when you're hungry.  Drink when you're thirsty.  Sleep when you're tired."  So says a Buddhist proverb, echoed more recently by that prophet of cycling, Velocio, in his Seven Commandments of Cycling.  These are:

1. Keep your stops short and few.
2. Eat before you're hungry, drink before you're thirsty.
3. Never get too tired to eat or sleep.
4. Add a layer before you're cold, take one off before you're hot.
5. Lay off wine, meat and tobacco on tour.
6. Ride within yourself, especially in the first hour.
7. Never show off.

Perhaps Buddhism and cycling are the same...

The ride can be meditation, the full fluidity and presentness of the eternal moment, breathing in rhythm with legs turning.  Is the wind changing?  I'm going slightly downhill now.  What gear should I be in to maintain the rhythm?  Look out for that glass!  Gotta wipe the tires...

A stream of motion coming at me for as long as I can maintain making circles.

Pedaling Squares

Sometimes I go for a ride, and rather than making circles and feeling the fluidity of the moment, I pedal squares. This is not the Ideal State, but many times I can pedal through it, and often those moments of presentness and fluidity can return.

Recently, the bike has been beautiful as far as catching those moments when everything goes together, but the rest of life has been the part that is pedaling squares. The lessons from the bike are to keep going, take care of myself, look at what might be changed, experiment, and repeat.