Chasing the GRRizzlies (in the heat!)….
Gold Rush Randonnee, July 19th / 23rd, 2005

The Gold Rush Randonnee (GRR) has been on my list of targets for a good while. I find the description of the ride, available on the website of the organizer Davis Bike Club, simply fascinating. The promise of 1200km of cycling through some of the last unspoilt parts of California, in what was once Gold Rush country, and over a route where altitude varies from sea level to nearly 2000 metres, has left me dreaming over the map a good few times. Besides, DBC run the GRR only once every four years, so this year’s edition was clearly an opportunity not to be missed.

Well, I was actually not far of missing it. The qualification went very smoothly at first, only to end up on the 600 where I eventually respected the tradition by DNFing on the Princeton event. Three days later, the phone rang and I recognized the voice of our RBA Diane; ‘Congratulations!, You are doing the Gold Rush!’. Diane had very kindly taken the initiative of talking to the GRR head of organizing committee, Daryn Dodge, to explain him the somewhat special conditions in which the NJ600 was run. As a result, Daryn offered me a waiver to ride the GRR 1200km event…..

Preparation

Getting an entry without having actually earned the right for it does create some more responsibilities, and meant very clearly that DNF would not be an option on the GRR. All the more so because it was now my BMB qualifier as well. So the plan of battle was established on cautious and conservative bases. Flying on the Sunday would leave 2 days for commissioning and preparing the bike and stock-up sleep, staying in Sacramento airport at arrival and before departure meant no need to rely on local transport – just ride to and from Davis. For good measure, the air carrier (United) did a first class job of delivering the bike box, with no trace of vandalism on it, at the very time I walked into Sacramento airport, and despite an intermediate flight connection. Take lesson, other airlines (I have the names)…..

Less good news awaited at arrival, though. According to weather forecasts, Sacramento was well on its way to beating the record of consecutive days above 100°F. And there was no sign of the heat wave abating, for the foreseeable future…. Well, perhaps the NJ600 experience would be helpful, after all!

On Monday morning I rebuilt the Spectrum, and set off towards Davis. A very pleasant levee road along the Sacramento river leads straight into town from the airport; then, after crossing the river in Sacramento, a bike path along busy Interstate 80 goes directly into Davis. By the middle of the day I was in Davis, which seemed to be a very pleasant little town – trees everywhere, plenty of cafes, restaurants and bike shops, and bicycles enjoying priority over motor traffic!

A few bits of shopping later, it started to feel like the cook had switched the oven on, so I elected to retire in my motel room to continue preparations. The Motel 6 in Davis is a great place to stay – inexpensive, A/C in the room, swimming pool not any further than 10 yards from my room, and gas-station-cum-shop just opposite the street for all these last minute purchases (energy bars, batteries, Peptobismol…. and I must forget a good many others).

I used the afternoon to set-up the bike for the GRR; the organizer is particularly demanding on lighting (two independent lights on both front and rear) so I didn’t want to risk failing the bike inspection.

Stage 2: Oroville / Tobin (41 miles)

The real fun was about to start as I left Oroville. A few miles further on the road started to go upwards, on a gentle and rolling way for the first five miles or so. Then, once on Highway 70, we started the long climb towards Jarbo Gap. At altitude 700 metres Jarbo Gap is by no means a killer, but it provided a good workout on a wide road, essentially deserted at that time of the night, and under a lovely full moon making our front lights nearly redundant. The climb was probably not far from 8 miles long, at an average gradient about 6% or so but never going any higher than about 8%. Just after the bridge overlooking a large artificial lake, I slowly passed a rider, and before long was clearing the top of Jarbo Gap. The gentle descent that followed was bringing us into the Feather River canyon, and I promised myself to do this section in daylight on the way back since the scenery seemed very spectacular.

Once at the bottom of the canyon, the road continued gently upwards (3% average or so) on a continuous way, and would do so for nearly 50 miles. Trains were slowly carrying their enormous load on the other side of the canyon, hydro-electric power plants could be seen regularly, suddenly illuminating the road as they appeared around the corner. A few trucks were on the road, but they generally behaved; on the other hand, the fact that all bridges were undergoing construction, with timed lights associated, ensured that trucks could not gather momentum…. and neither would cyclists! We had been told there would be a few tunnels on the way. There were indeed, but in the middle of the night that was no big deal. Soon after the tunnels section the Tobin control could be found, a relatively small-scale food and water control located in a resort chalet. Riders were made welcomed by volunteers, and the place seemed like a herd of voracious animals had just come by. I just added one more predator to the herd and started tucking into the spread of food.

Stage 3: Tobin / Taylorsville (60 miles)

By the time I left Tobin, dawn was starting to break. I know many randonneurs do treasure this moment, but personally it seems to coincide systematically with a drop in energy making of most sunrises when on brevets a bit of a struggle. This one was no exception, although not really bad. I felt the need for avoiding pushing hard and just kept riding on, using easy gears. Actually, the gently but relentlessly uphill nature of the route on this section probably meant that taking it easy would not be a bad idea.

Trains were still at work, and in the early morning light they were quite a sight. I spared a thought for my colleague Fred, a definite train-lover, who would certainly have explained me on the spot every single detail about the difference between the GE AC or DC powered locomotives…. Trucks on the other hand were nowhere in sight by now, and neither were cars so we truly had the road to ourselves. A bit further up the scenery became really splendid, and I stopped for making some photos. The Feather River was deep down at the bottom, the cliffs were sharp at that place, and high mountains could be seen in the distance. Forty-niners had contemplated the very same sight 150 years earlier, although in their gold fever I am not sure they paid much attention to the beauty of the site they were digging into….

I continued to grind the miles upwards, and nearly thought of a hallucination at a turn when a few derelict Citroen DS cars appeared in a driveway; they must have been the only examples of this model to be imported into the USA! Obviously there is a crazy collector living in these parts….

After 27 miles the road turned left into Highway 89. I stopped for a short snack from the saddlebag, and was passed by a few riders. All seemed cheerful and in high spirits.

The climb became a bit steeper as the road was leading us out of the canyon, but there was still no bad gradient. I actually enjoyed it better than the few preceding miles, and before long I was reaching Crescent Mills where the cue sheet confirmed there were stores to be found. I stopped at the general store, where a few riders were already restocking, and topped-up my supplies of food, water and V8. The manager was very friendly and smily, I guess for many people over there the GRR might be a rare distraction from the routine of daily life…

The info control in Greenville followed shortly. I am not quite sure I understood the question, but found out a sign which was specific enough for hopefully convincing the controller that yes, I had been there. From then on, the following 25 miles to Taylorsville offered us a nice and easy journey through incredibly beautiful scenery. At altitude 1100 metres, finding so many farms and cattle pastures was quite unexpected, but the surrounding high mountains and woods made the views truly wonderful. The road was gently winding through farmlands, with little effort, and the morning temperature was still very pleasant. Paradise on wheels! I was nearly disappointed to reach Taylorsville so early, apart for the fact that by then temperature had gone up a notch so it was getting time to cool down a bit and reload with fresh water.

Stage 4: Taylorsville / Susanville (59 miles)

It was a shock to pass the door out of the control. Heat was now in full blast, and called for a far-reaching decision to be made. Stay in the shade for the rest of the afternoon and spend all my spare time there and then, so that I can continue through the night in nice temperature? Or keep going, at the risk of blowing up in the furnace a bit further up the road?

I eventually opted for the latter; not at all out of heroism, but just because using my spare time now would mean having to ride through the ‘High Desert’ the day after in the same heat, and I had been told there was no shade at all over there. So basically, the choice was between risking to blow up on Day 1, or on Day 2. Pushing it on Day 1 made slightly (slightly!) better sense as I was still supposed to be reasonably fresh….

The first few miles were still enjoyable, being fairly well shaded and not requiring hard work. When the climb towards Antelope Lake started, it became a different story; not a bit of shade on the road, a temperature of 95°F about, and a good climb of 7% average with peaks at 8.5/9% for some 4 miles or so. In normal conditions this would have been a climb I would have loved – scenery was great, traffic very light, and the road was pleasantly winding upwards. On that day though, it became a tedious exercise of concentrating on doing as little effort as possible while keeping constant attention to what this stomach was telling me. I passed the very same rider seen first in the headwind on stage 1, who decided to stop in whatever shade he could find to try to cool down a bit. I then slowly made my way up, inundated with sweat, expecting at any minute to experience this dreaded stomach blow-up I am familiar with when dehydrated. Somehow, it didn’t happen, but as I sat against a tree at the Boulder Creek Centre water stop control, I was clearly not a happy bunny – or was it GRRizzly? – and was not alone in this mood. Controllers were feeling and understanding the tension, and the general atmosphere was pretty quiet. There started to be rumours of a number of riders dropping off the event, no surprise really in these conditions. The lady controller driving the white sag van energetically, and rightly, advised me to try the ‘ice necklace’ I had started to notice on some riders, and which controllers had in abundance: a long sock, filled-in with ice, then locked, and kept around the neck while riding. Locals said this keeps the brain cool and goes a long way to prevent overheating. I am usually not too keen on experimenting on a 1200, but given how I was feeling then, not doing anything extra was clearly taking a serious risk so on I went with the magic sock.

It just worked wonders. It is not the nicest feeling in the world to have ice against your neck, esthetics is debatable to say the least, but it worked. I was soon climbing at a good pace the 8% graded hill leading to the ‘top of the GRR’, even leaving a rider a bit behind on the way. It was still scorching hot, but I didn’t feel it any longer that way – maybe altitude started to help too, we were now just under 2000 metres.

Funnily enough, the ‘top of the GRR’, at 1922 metres high my personal highest to date on a bike, was quite an anticlimax. Not even a sign for reminding us how great we are! Perhaps worse, the ‘descent’ started with a good few miles of rollercoaster that felt like they had as much up as they had down. It was a relief at first to reach the true descent. At first, because it rapidly emerged that it was the kind of descent where you’d rather not do anything else than concentrating on controlling the bike. Not usually one to be scared of descending fast, I nevertheless felt the need to slow down early on since the gradient was really steep, and when not knowing the road I don’t want to take gratuitous risks. It was a very long descent, too; at a point I started to worry about blowing up a tire, and came to a halt so to give rims some chance to cool down. They were boiling hot, I certainly didn’t want to explode a tire at high speed on this dead straight 20% steep section!

Eventually I reached the bottom, now conscious that this famous climb up Janesville Grade on the way back certainly deserves the triple chainring that the organizer recommends! I hope Jennifer won’t take it badly, but I am afraid Middlebury Gap is a gentle joke compared to this pig of a climb…

We teamed-up together with an other rider from then on, benchmarking our understanding of the cue sheet as complex navigation had reappeared. Back down at altitude 1200 metres about it was again furnace hot, and the magic sock had essentially dried out. The last miles towards Susanville were not the most exciting of the ride, and we started to feel tiredness too – more than 400km without sleep were taking their toll. We eventually made it to the control, a National Guard armory where we were sure we would be well protected!

My plan of battle called for a short sleep in Susanville, and then off again with more serious rest expected in Adin. In fact, weather would change this timing: should I want to take advantage of the cooler hours, I would indeed have to sleep in Adin, but on the way back only – mile 445! This justified a more serious stop in Susanville in this late afternoon, when it was still too hot for my taste to keep going.

The shower felt fantastic, and started to make me feel human again. Some food later, I laid down on a cot, outside, in the shade. Was it adrenaline still running high, or was I not yet tired enough, the fact is that I did not manage to sleep for long – hardly an hour later I awoke on my own, without the help of the controllers. Evening approaching, temperature becoming reasonable, it was time to set off again.

Stage 5: Susanville / Adin (67 miles)

Interestingly, the scenery started to change immediately after leaving Susanville. No more forests could be seen, only views were of rock and sun-burnt low trees. The climb towards Antelope Pass started very soon, too, and I congratulated myself to have waited for the evening before tackling it.

In the twilight, views were wonderful as I was steadily ascending this 7% climb on a deserted road, which must have been a furnace ad mid-afternoon. At 1,700 metres elevation Antelope Pass is a respectable climb, and I have to say it was probably the highlight of the whole event for me. Well rested from the sleep stop, I just kept enjoying the views as the sun was slowly disappearing over the High Desert. It was nearly a disappointment to reach the top where I set the lights on, donned the reflective jacket, and aimed downwards on the other side for a long and fast descent. Many flat miles on straight roads followed, swallowed easily and at a good pace. A bit further on, a red light ahead meant unambiguously that an other climb was coming, but it proved a bit too short for me to catch the rider in front. This was yet another sizeable hill, followed by a long descent to the shores of Eagle Lake where I could see again this elusive red light disappearing into the distance. By now I was starting to feel hungry, and settled into steady pace for the flat section along the lake and the more rolling miles that followed.

The Grasshopper Station water stop beckoned, and was welcomed indeed, although its treacherous entrance of deep, soft sand was not far off sending me down. Our President Bill Bryant was there again, serving us with food and drinks like an ordinary volunteer. Riders and controllers alike were cheerful and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. Despite the friendly atmosphere I was soon back on the road; these hours of cool temperature were precious, and would be best used riding.

As I rode on, the scenery changed again and gradually became more green – as far as I could judge in the middle of the night! There was still a good bit of climbing, but of the more rolling sort than previously; what remained constant was the near-absence of traffic. Under a nice moonlight, it was really wonderful to have the road to ourselves. I was feeling good and was using big gears and momentum to overcome the rollers on the way to Adin. Little wonder that the control came as a happy sight as by now I was ready for food and a bit of rest.

Daryn Dodge was manning the control at Adin, together with other volunteers. I discovered with delight that burritos were available – what a treat! Real food after 30 hours of energy bars! I could well have stayed longer in Adin, but duty awaited; more exactly, the absolute need of doing the best of the cool night hours before the heat was on again.

Stage 6: Adin / Alturas (43 miles)

It took only a few miles after leaving Adin before I started to feel sleepy. Excessively quick wink was a clear sign, made all the more obvious by the (wrong) perception that there was a bridge ahead on the road – which got more remote as I rode on, like all good hallucinations do. I decided for a five minutes power nap, along the road by a national park sign; as I made myself just enough uncomfortable, a group of riders went by – I don’t think they even saw me. A few minutes later I was back on the road, not feeling great but safe in the knowledge that Adin Pass would keep me awake.

It did. I had to take it slowly, though, but at more than 5,000 feet high Adin Pass is good enough a climb for deserving some respect. I was far from feeling as good as while climbing Antelope Pass, though, and sleepiness reappeared once at the top. Fortunately the descent was straightforward and the pavement good, and there was no traffic so I could use all what I needed of the road. Arriving in Canby, the only town in the second half of the route apart for the control points, provided some distraction to focus the mind away from sleep dreams. I rode past the right turn, retraced shortly afterwards, just to meet a rider who told me he had done exactly the same mistake at that same place 4 years ago! It was nice to have some company to help staying awake, but it soon became obvious that I couldn’t keep the pace so I was rapidly back to my curious state half awake /

Laurent CHAMBARD

Wantage CTC