My good
friend “Rocket Man” asked me to distribute the following article. Any
similarity between Rocket Man’s writing style, climbing inability, or cycling
mis-adventures, and my own is purely coincidental.
-Tom Sheffield
Rocket
Man’s Climb Ratings
Catalogued in the frequently
oxygen-deprived caverns of my mind is a humbling list of cycling experiences
known as “climbs”. Someone once told me that “Climbing is easy, if you
don’t go fast”. I’ve never found that to be true, and I’m afraid that if
I go any slower I might fall over.
Using any single
characteristic for rating climbs would be a disservice. Length isn’t
everything (ooh!), but using a company paid sick day for a trip to the mountains
can only be justified by a route that includes long climbs. Distance makes the
heart grow fonder, so convenience
receives a heavy weighting in this ranking. Accessibility
has its downside, which is automobile traffic (ugh!). Since it’s unlikely that
we would be riding these roads if they were not paved, and I’m sure they
wouldn’t have been paved just for cycling, I’ve discounted the presence of
motorized vehicles in this ranking. In addition, factoring automotive traffic
would provide an unfair advantage to isolated (Sauratown) or remote (Snake)
nominees.
Climbs come in a variety of profiles.
If you cruise the Blue Ridge Parkway (BRP) from the Folk Art Center to Craggy
Gardens or spin your way up NC181 north to the BRP, you’ll experience a “rolling” climb. Even though experience tells me otherwise, upon
arrival at the Craggy Gardens Visitor’s Center I would swear that I had been
constantly gaining altitude since entering the parkway from Tunnel Road. Certain
that the return trip is only a matter of coasting, my demented desire for more
climbing is satisfied with side trips on Ox Creek Road and Town Mountain Road.
Then – back on the parkway and totally exhausted – I’m rudely awakened
from my endorphin-induced daze (aah!) when the road turns briefly upward and I
realize I’m no longer coasting. (ugh!).
If you have ever had the
pleasure of riding south across Roan Mountain through Carver’s Gap (aah!), or
found your granny gear on Sauratown Mountain (ugh!), then you’ve experienced a
“flat” climb. Such climbs are
physically and mentally debilitating. Roan Mountain is similar to the BRP, where
park employees have mastered the technique of placing the mile-markers further
apart as the grade becomes steeper. Long straight sections offer visual
reassurance that the climb will last forever, because the summit is nowhere in
sight.
Switchbacks
are a cyclist’s friend. In fact, the more switchbacks there are, the better I
like it because they tend to flatten the grade. Can you imagine what NC80 or
Beech Mountain would be like without switchbacks? The word “impossible”
comes to mind. Switchbacks also provide visual (often blurry), intermediate
goals. Many times going up Grandfather Mountain I’ve used them as milestones.
For example: “I’ll try to keep my cranks turning until I get through that
next switchback” (ugh!).
S-curves are closely related
to switchbacks, although unfortunately they don’t have the same decelerating
effect on motor vehicles. One of the most agonizing aspects of climbing is
watching your “friends” disappear into the distance. Once they’re out of
sight, they’re out of mind, and frequent curves are a blessing on a climb like
Pilot Mountain.
Whatever goes up, must come
down (with Grandfather Mountain being the notable exception), and for many
cyclists a brief, white-knuckled, screaming descent
is their reward for enduring the ascent. While the road
surface isn’t as important during the climb (although losing traction due
to loose gravel has caused me to search for a way to control my excess power),
clean and smooth pavement (NC151) is exhilarating enough, without the adrenaline
rush caused by gravel (Three Tops), cracks (NC80), or potholes (Snake). On one
memorable descent I participated in a paceline of about a dozen bikes as we
soared through the curves and tunnels of the BRP between Mt. Pisgah to the
French Broad River (aah!).
A climb’s difficulty is relative to its position in the route. For example:
I’m quite certain that my opinion of Grandfather Mountain results from only
being able to ride it as the last segment of the Bridge-to-Bridge century. If I
could drive to the base and climb it more frequently, I’m sure Grandfather
Mountain (which ranks highest in difficulty) would be no more imposing than
Pilot Mountain (ugh!). Snake Mountain is 1st Runner Up in difficulty,
and might have knocked Grandfather from its lofty perch, if there were dozens of
spectators, rather than a few dogs and horses, watching to see if I would fall
before reaching the summit. Beech Mountain was relegated to 3rd in
difficulty because the long, steep, straight sections at the base of Beech
Mountain Road get most of the “fun” over with too soon.
Scenery
is often taken for granted, or even ignored by some cyclists. Upon reaching the
end of a climb my eloquent descriptions of streams, waterfalls, overlooks,
flowers, trees and wildlife are met by blank stares and comments from my
patiently waiting “friends” such as: “Where have you been?”, “Did you
have a flat?”, or “I’m cold, let’s go!”. It’s nice to be appreciated
and, as always, thanks for waiting for Rocket Man…
Rocket Man’s
Climb Ratings:
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