A good days cycling
My blog entries may be a little disjointed for a while, decent Internet access is proving to be hard to find, ability to upload photos more so.
I described doing my first hefty climb in Turkey a few weeks back. Since then I've gotten more and more used to mountains to the point where I'm starting to look forward to them. I've not got to the point where I'd go out of my way to find one but when one is on the map it's not something to be avoided
Yesterday I started the day in the town of Abarkuh, some 145km from my next
destination, Yazd, according to my dodgy map. On close scrutiny it seems that the days ride would be divided into three sections. The first would take me from an elevation of 1525m, 60km across a flat desert plane where the mountains began. The second an indeterminate distance up and over the mountains (guesstimated height of 2200 to 2500m) then the last section would drop me down to the city of Yazd, at an elevation of around 1250m. Time was a worry as dusk is around 5:30 here at the moment, and I started around 8:15 so the day would be a race against the clock. The start was not that promising, I had to stop to make minor mechanical adjustments against a dark sky that seemed to promise rain in the hours ahead.
The First Section, getting there
Despite the sky and minutes lost adjusting the bike things started well. A slight downwards slope and a tailwind meant the first 40km sailed by in a couple of hours. The downwards slope turned into a slight gentle rise slowing my speed but allowing me to start to gain some of the height for the mountains. I put on around 1300 feet over the last 20km although my speed dropped to around 10mph. I got to the last village before the mountain, grabbed a can of cola (ah, sugar!) and on to...
The Second Section, the Climb
Time to wax lyrical, sorry.
The road curves up and to my right as it makes it's way into the mountains. I've still a mild tail wind but the gradient is much higher, biting into my speed. As I ascend the drivers I meet are tooting their horns and waving, more so than usual. There's something about watching a fully loaded tourer going up a hill that seems to make people want to lend their support. And you know what? I appreciate it, even though it gets to be an effort to wave back.
It doesn't take too long for my muscles to start aching and odd pains to start shooting through my right calf. I need food and water throughout the climb and whilst the former is easy enough to do on the move the latter is more problematic. I'm well beyond the countries where energy or muesli bars are available and today I'm carrying lavash (thin flat unleavened bread) and feta. Good stuff but I'm going up a bloody mountain and taking a break is the last thing I want to do. If I stop for more than a couple of minutes the lactic acid build up in my muscles comes to the fore and it takes me maybe 10 minutes of slow painful cycling to regain my pace. So food is grabbed quickly maybe three times of the course of the two hour ascent, shoved in the mouth, another piece in hand and off again, all within a minute.
Muscles aching, encouraged by fellow road users I'm sloggin my way up the foothills. Initial speeds of 10mph drop to around 8mph as fatigue takes it toll and gradients increase. Then down to a steady 6, sometimes lower as I slowly wind my way up. As I get higher and it gets progressively harder I start to curse people. Myself, for being an idiot: why the hell am I doing this? Why am I putting myself through it? The road builders! Stupid bloody way to build a road, why not use that valley over there instead? No, truth to tell this seems to be a good road, uphill without no sudden 100 or 200 meter drops to be made up again, making me cycle the same altitude twice. Then I hit a series of undulations that drop me down a few tens of feet with a steep rise afterwards. Four or five hours of constant cycling with 50kg of bike and gear has taken its toll. Bleeding incompetent road builders! Why couldn't they level this!?
Cursing, sweating despite the falling temperature wondering why I do THIS **** I slowly ascend. I'm checking the altimeter, trying to work out when I'm going to top out. I find it's generally difficult to know when you've reached the high point of a pass until you actually do and today is no exception. The road twists and turns round the peaks. Round this bend and over that rise, surely that must be it... no, just another sodding rise! Why do I do this, I must be mad! The height on the altimeter rises slowly and steadily, while the temperature drops. 7500 feet... 12c... 7500 feet, hmmm, what's that in meters? Divide by 3.3, it's, er, damm, whatever! 7550, 7600 and I'm tyring to signal to oncoming trucks "is this it, is it downhill after this last push?" but it's hard to convey that in the time it takes for them to rush by beeping their horns and waving.
On and up and it's spotting with rain. Finally this must be it, must be. Yes! YES! I've topped out at 8411 feet, which must be, what, 2600 meters or thereabouts. Time to stop, refill the water bottles from one of the big bottles bungied to my rear rack. Pull the fleece on against the cold and rain, 7c now. More bread, cheese.
Now for the pay off! In the time it's taken to stop, refuel and set off again I've come from gruelling I'm-an-idiot to an endorphin and adrenalin fuelled high that you have to experience to believe as I start to fly down the other side. Stunning vistas open up as I hit 30 mph with ease, then 40, then 44... I'm not waving to the ongoing traffic any more, I'm punching the air with sheer body filling joy, I'm high as a kite in more ways than one! THIS is IT! THIS is the pay off for two hours of sheer hard bloody grind, for salt encrusted hair, shirt, trousers, for the pain, THIS is why I do it, I LOVE IT, I LOVE IT, I LOVE IT! YES!YEAH!
The Third Section, the way down
The descent is on with some 80km (50 miles) to go. I know I'm going to make it well before dusk now. The scenery is stunning with mountains and canyons that wouldn't look out of place in a cowboy film. Except this is Iran. I gradually come down, taking time to pause, take photos and have photos taken of me though goodness knows I must look a right state. Finally I get to the outskirts of Yazd. I've covered the last fifty miles in a little over two and a half hours, cruising between 16 and 26 miles an hour aided by a tail wind and 1400 meters worth of stored kinetic energy. By the time I reach a hotel at 4pm, I've covered 99.86 miles according to my speedometer, not bad, not bad at all.
And relax...
I described doing my first hefty climb in Turkey a few weeks back. Since then I've gotten more and more used to mountains to the point where I'm starting to look forward to them. I've not got to the point where I'd go out of my way to find one but when one is on the map it's not something to be avoided
Yesterday I started the day in the town of Abarkuh, some 145km from my next
destination, Yazd, according to my dodgy map. On close scrutiny it seems that the days ride would be divided into three sections. The first would take me from an elevation of 1525m, 60km across a flat desert plane where the mountains began. The second an indeterminate distance up and over the mountains (guesstimated height of 2200 to 2500m) then the last section would drop me down to the city of Yazd, at an elevation of around 1250m. Time was a worry as dusk is around 5:30 here at the moment, and I started around 8:15 so the day would be a race against the clock. The start was not that promising, I had to stop to make minor mechanical adjustments against a dark sky that seemed to promise rain in the hours ahead.
The First Section, getting there
Despite the sky and minutes lost adjusting the bike things started well. A slight downwards slope and a tailwind meant the first 40km sailed by in a couple of hours. The downwards slope turned into a slight gentle rise slowing my speed but allowing me to start to gain some of the height for the mountains. I put on around 1300 feet over the last 20km although my speed dropped to around 10mph. I got to the last village before the mountain, grabbed a can of cola (ah, sugar!) and on to...
The Second Section, the Climb
Time to wax lyrical, sorry.
The road curves up and to my right as it makes it's way into the mountains. I've still a mild tail wind but the gradient is much higher, biting into my speed. As I ascend the drivers I meet are tooting their horns and waving, more so than usual. There's something about watching a fully loaded tourer going up a hill that seems to make people want to lend their support. And you know what? I appreciate it, even though it gets to be an effort to wave back.
It doesn't take too long for my muscles to start aching and odd pains to start shooting through my right calf. I need food and water throughout the climb and whilst the former is easy enough to do on the move the latter is more problematic. I'm well beyond the countries where energy or muesli bars are available and today I'm carrying lavash (thin flat unleavened bread) and feta. Good stuff but I'm going up a bloody mountain and taking a break is the last thing I want to do. If I stop for more than a couple of minutes the lactic acid build up in my muscles comes to the fore and it takes me maybe 10 minutes of slow painful cycling to regain my pace. So food is grabbed quickly maybe three times of the course of the two hour ascent, shoved in the mouth, another piece in hand and off again, all within a minute.
Muscles aching, encouraged by fellow road users I'm sloggin my way up the foothills. Initial speeds of 10mph drop to around 8mph as fatigue takes it toll and gradients increase. Then down to a steady 6, sometimes lower as I slowly wind my way up. As I get higher and it gets progressively harder I start to curse people. Myself, for being an idiot: why the hell am I doing this? Why am I putting myself through it? The road builders! Stupid bloody way to build a road, why not use that valley over there instead? No, truth to tell this seems to be a good road, uphill without no sudden 100 or 200 meter drops to be made up again, making me cycle the same altitude twice. Then I hit a series of undulations that drop me down a few tens of feet with a steep rise afterwards. Four or five hours of constant cycling with 50kg of bike and gear has taken its toll. Bleeding incompetent road builders! Why couldn't they level this!?
Cursing, sweating despite the falling temperature wondering why I do THIS **** I slowly ascend. I'm checking the altimeter, trying to work out when I'm going to top out. I find it's generally difficult to know when you've reached the high point of a pass until you actually do and today is no exception. The road twists and turns round the peaks. Round this bend and over that rise, surely that must be it... no, just another sodding rise! Why do I do this, I must be mad! The height on the altimeter rises slowly and steadily, while the temperature drops. 7500 feet... 12c... 7500 feet, hmmm, what's that in meters? Divide by 3.3, it's, er, damm, whatever! 7550, 7600 and I'm tyring to signal to oncoming trucks "is this it, is it downhill after this last push?" but it's hard to convey that in the time it takes for them to rush by beeping their horns and waving.
On and up and it's spotting with rain. Finally this must be it, must be. Yes! YES! I've topped out at 8411 feet, which must be, what, 2600 meters or thereabouts. Time to stop, refill the water bottles from one of the big bottles bungied to my rear rack. Pull the fleece on against the cold and rain, 7c now. More bread, cheese.
Now for the pay off! In the time it's taken to stop, refuel and set off again I've come from gruelling I'm-an-idiot to an endorphin and adrenalin fuelled high that you have to experience to believe as I start to fly down the other side. Stunning vistas open up as I hit 30 mph with ease, then 40, then 44... I'm not waving to the ongoing traffic any more, I'm punching the air with sheer body filling joy, I'm high as a kite in more ways than one! THIS is IT! THIS is the pay off for two hours of sheer hard bloody grind, for salt encrusted hair, shirt, trousers, for the pain, THIS is why I do it, I LOVE IT, I LOVE IT, I LOVE IT! YES!YEAH!
The Third Section, the way down
The descent is on with some 80km (50 miles) to go. I know I'm going to make it well before dusk now. The scenery is stunning with mountains and canyons that wouldn't look out of place in a cowboy film. Except this is Iran. I gradually come down, taking time to pause, take photos and have photos taken of me though goodness knows I must look a right state. Finally I get to the outskirts of Yazd. I've covered the last fifty miles in a little over two and a half hours, cruising between 16 and 26 miles an hour aided by a tail wind and 1400 meters worth of stored kinetic energy. By the time I reach a hotel at 4pm, I've covered 99.86 miles according to my speedometer, not bad, not bad at all.
And relax...
posted by Bill at 6:29 am
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