I frequently reminisce in these Friday posts. Today I’m going to do that, but not about some event in the distant past. Rather, let me stroll through the memories and impressions of yesterday. Literally, the day before today.
Yesterday was intended to be a ride around the old “original” Triple Gap route. It was that and more.
Individualism seemed to be the theme for the day. Regular readers will have noted, I announced a bit more relaxed format for the ride. We had that.
As things do, this one started well before ride time. In the small and dark hours of the way-too-early morn. While I was preparing, I heard thunder. Thunder? Yikes.
I stuck my head outside in time to see the rain starting. A quick dash to the computer for weather updates, both local, and for Hall, Lumpkin, and Union counties. The official, professional prognosticators all agreed, some rain early in the day, tapering off around nine to ten o’clock. It’s a go. By then the phone was chirruping and the email was binging. “Honest, it’s a go.”
“But what if it rains?” My usual answer to that question is, “Then we’ll get wet.” To which I added, “I’m going.”
Oddly, the trip up through Atlanta was relatively calm. (This would not last.)
By the time we got up to Dahlonega, the sun had risen, the rain had tapered, and it was softly cloudy. I found the small municipal parking lot, in the confusion of one way streets, just off the square in Dahlonega. Put the bikes on the ground, and start the usual last minute preps. It started to rain again. “Ignore that,” I said. “Apply sunscreen. It may be cloudy, but the sun is up there, and we will be out a long time.”
Two of us rode over to the “official” rally point, at the Dahlonega Vistors Center, just at the south east side of the old Court Square. We sat on the bench, equipped with a few extra cue sheets, and watched the drizzle taper off. It wasn’t raining at all at 9:00. Time to go.
The short trip through Dahlonega was freighted with the usual small town traffic aggravations, but soon over. We passed the WalMonster, and we were on the course. As usual, the climb up to Rockhouse Rd was evil. It’s not a pleasant start to things, but it is a start. It tends to shut people up, and get them focused. The turn onto Rockhouse is always a relief. That’s the point where things start to get scenic, and I kind of think the ride is really started there.
Did I mention idividualism? By the time I hit Rockouse Rd, I only had one rider with me. Two stalwarts had decided to ride the course in reverse. We would see them later. Other riders were ahead and behind.
The sky was a mixture of low and medium clouds. The temp was delightfully cool. The humidity high, and the road surface damp. In other words, conditions were close to ideal.
Rockhouse Rd, CAvender Creek, and Porter Springs comprise a long approach climb. But it doesn’t feel like a climb. It looks and feels like great big, long, rollers. Up! Down! Repeat. Very little automotive traffic out on this quiet morning.
I was warming up nicely, loosening and getting into the rhythm of it. I’d had some concerns. I’m recovering from two sets of fairly recent injuries, and it’s been very busy out lately. In short, I was a touch tired, and having some difficulty inflating my chest fully against the healing damage. I was pleased to not that I felt okay on the bike. I wasn’t climbing as strongly as usual, but not badly either.
In due course, we arrived at Turner’s Corner, and started the climb up to Neels Gap. It’s apparent that the mountains have received a lot of rain this year. They are incredibly lush and green. Low traffic aided the climbing a lot. Low clouds drifing by kept the sun’s heat at bay.
About halfway up the climb my little two rider element was overtaken and passed by another rider. I know this lady only slightly. She is a strong and serious tri-athlete. She had not ridden in the mountains before. No one had a lot of breath for chatter, so we waved and nodded at each other and she climbed above us. She would gradually open her lead, until she was just barely in sight as we approached the summit.
By mutual, unspoken consensus, we all stopped for a short break to answer nature’s call. That was where I had a chance to speak with my tri-athlete acquaintance. “Are you going all the way around the loop?” she asked. I replied in the affirmative.
“But it’s so humid,” she said. She was seriously considering going back. I pointed out that we were about 22 miles into a 53 mile loop. That the way back was almost as tough as going forward, with less reward. That didn’t seem to be an issue with this lady. So as my one companion and I mounted to continue, the tri-athlete turned and pointed back along the route.
The descent from Neels Gap was moderated a bit. Road surfaces were quite damp. It had obviously rained more recently here. It’s still a fun descent, but a bit of extra caution was required on this day.
Then comes the turn at Vogel, and the climb up to Wolf Pen Gap. This is a shorter climb, but much steeper. While we climbed another rider overtook us. This young man is a terrific climber. He’d started later than we, but caught up to us. He nodded and smiled as he passed us on one of the hairpin switch-backs. (None of us had much breath for chatter.) We would not see him again.
As we neared the summit two things occurred. First, my legs started to burn. I mean really burn! My recent past was catching up to me, and this is a tough climb. Second, the two individualists met us. I refer to the two characters who decided to do the loop the “wrong” way round. The came screaming down out of the summit.
“Almost there!” shouted one. “Good job!” called the other. Thank you both, boyos.
I gave thoughts to taking a standing rest, but instead invoked Rule 5 and soldiered on to the summit.
For a change there was a nice breeze blowing across the top of Wolf Pen. It helped. The day was getting a bit warm by this point.
The descent out of Wolf Pen was its usual delight. It’s fast and tight, and goes on for longer than it seems it should. One pays for this. That descent takes the rider down below the earth dam that forms Lake Winfield Scott. The legs have gone into recovery, and stiffened, and the side of that dam must be climbed. It’s steep and it always hurts. Yesterday was no exception.
It’s rollers from there into the tiny town of Suches. I was really looking forward to a stop for fuel and just to get off the bike.
Suches was a jolt. The venerable motorcycle hangout, Two Wheels Only has closed. The wonderful store is closing down too. We were able to purchase water, a V-8, and some other calories. We sat for a bit, ate, drank, and re-fortified.
The climb from Suches to the top of Woody Gap is not so long, nor very steep. Good thing too. The heat was really coming on. We “rolled the top,” and went right into the incredible, magical descent down the other side of Woody. Descending was like turning on the airconditioner.
I stopped at the rock pile to let my riding partner catch up, and we proceeded through the rollers of the final descent.
The turn back toward Dahlonega marks the end of the descending. From there, it’s a step climb back into town. And warm. I was well sweat-blinded by the time we got back to the car.
All in all, it was a very good ride. This one was tougher than usual, but that’s good too. I’m always reluctant to leave that area. I don’t think it would be possible to ever use it all up.
The less said about the trip back, and the insane drive through Atlanta, the better.
We made it back to the shop in time (barely) to meet the Thursday Novice Road Ride. Waiting were four riders. In the rain. So?
We went out. I told the folks, “If it looks likely to continue raining, I’ll depart the route and get you all back early. We’ll get enough of a ride to make it worthwhile, but not stay out so long as to get chilly and miserable.”
It kept raining. It rained harder. I made the decision. I turned us, and started along a shortcut back to the shop. That was when the ride turned into a classroom demonstration. One of the group had a flat tire.
Thankfully, the rain stopped about then. The tire repair was completed with a bit of comedy, but completed just the same. Folks were happy and laughing as we rolled back into the parking lot.
I don’t think a day can end in a better way.
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