Tuesday – The Big Day. Independence Pass rises directly out of Aspen, heading east from 8000′ to 12,100′ over 20 miles. We debated for days how to tackle this route. John and Jeremy tried vainly to entice Tim, Matt, and Patrick to join them on a hell-bent for adventure ride circling the Continental Divide over the Pass, through Leadville, past Vail, into the wind for 55 miles down to Glenwood Canyon, then back up 40 miles to home – 206 miles, nearly 12,000′ of climbing. They set off at 5:45 AM (Withrow) and 6:30 (Behler), and were not seen again until close to sunset, around 8 PM.
The rest of the crew were content with an out-and-back option. Last year, we did the same ride, encountering 40F temps and hail at our second pass over the top. this year, weather was much more benign, as Danielle could surely testify:
Barely any clouds, and temps near 60 on top, where the lack of the usual winter snow pack reduced the usual cold winds to mild zephyrs on the way down. Rob Peters was ecstatic doing his first ever century in such an epic fashion – over 9,000′ of climbing! I predict next year, not a few of the bunch will tack on the additional distance to make a 136 mile round trip, stopping in two-mile-high Leadville for lunch. An exhausted crew repaired to Venga Venga on the Snowmass Mall for huge burritos, plates of nachos, plenty of beer, and smiles all around.
Wednesday – By this time, we were ready for an “active recovery” day. This meant hitting the lower elevations again, bombing down Lower River Road behind the Old Guy, then cruising down to 6100′, a total of 24 miles in a little over an hour (“downhill with a tailwind”). We split into two groups at the Catherine Bridge. Three of us (Trish, Dave and I) wisely chose to do a 20 mile loop through Missouri Heights, with the final 7 miles down a freshly paved road, traffic-free of course, descending 1000′ at a steady 3-4% drop. The others took on the 34 mile Bad-Ass option, a rollicking set of ups and downs through the same plateau, expansive views on all sides. We met up in Carbondale, where some trash talk at the front resulted in a bracing dip in the (38F) Roaring Fork River for four of the most intrepid. From there, the last 20 miles were taken in small groups at a leisurely pace, allowing conversation, re-hydration, and one more go at conquering the Final Climb home.
In the evening, we found ourselves at Heather’s, in Basalt, a perennial favorite. This place is so good, she keeps adding more tables every year. We occupied what used to be the alley, now a large family table seating 14. But still not large enough for Tim and his kids, who made a little money on the side giving shoulder rubs to many aching backs. The place is actually called “Heather’s Savory Pies”, as in Pot Pies. The Cuban Ropa Vieja is my current favorite, but the classic chicken also had some love.
Thursday – Well, why not do another century? Everyone seemed to have gotten stronger, not weaker, from the preceding four days of abuse, so off we set downvalley once more, this time tackling the Fryingpan. By now, we had all bonded to the point where riding as a group was deemed a number one priority. Especially since the downhill portion of this ride inevitably faces the afternoon wind; a determined paceline lead by the Big Guys seemed a wise idea. So Trish, Dave and I drove down to Basalt, skipping the first and last 17 miles. Fryingpan Road follows a world-class, Gold Medal trout stream up from its confluence with the Roaring Fork, into the sub-alpine slopes just below the Divide. Except for one mile at 6-7%, and 3 more at 5%, the entire 33 miles (one-way) is set at a gradient of 1-3%. We timed things perfectly so everyone arrived within five minutes of each other at the “top”, which is where the road turns to gravel, 9100′. This early in the summer season, on a weekday, the road was almost entirely car-free, allowing us to cruise the first downhill section at 30 mph behind the able pulls of John Withrow and Coach P – thanks, guys!. Then a four mile uphill to get around the reservoir, and another 17 mile downhill trot, the final 12 miles again behind our two “strong men”. Kudos to Matt for riding sweep on the way down. Trish, Dave and I got back in the car, while the rest rode back home, for another 100 mile day, this time with 6800′ of climbing.
Back home to the sun and developing “heat” (80F in Snowmass Village is about 10 deg above normal, and while it feels good hanging out after a ride, is not that much fun when it means riding up from Basalt in nearly 90F temps.) Dinner at Slow Groovin’ BBQ above the Mall. We split into two tables, one of 9 for the Ragnar “regular” team, and one of 5 for the Ultras. Twenty minutes between ordering and getting served was just enough time to go over things like running order, how to hand off between runners, what to wear when its either too hot or too cold, and what to eat between relay legs. To quote A.A. Milne, “Anxiety be-dew’d our brow” as we contemplated the wisdom, or lack thereof in our intended efforts coming up the next day: First, a 35 mile ride on the steepest slopes between Snowmass and Aspen, followed by what I’ve learned is a Slumber Party for Endorphin Junkies – a Ragnar Relay. The four pound plates of various meats (Ribs, Brisket, Sausage, etc), piles of fries, bacon-jalapeño mac ‘n cheese, and copious quantities of local brew help dampen our fears.
[Campers: I’ve tried not to include any embarrassing stories about you. But if you want to confess online about, oh, say, corking your cookies on the final climb home, or nearly derailing the train coming downhill on the Fryingpan, go right ahead…]