Nobody goes into Rist Canyon without wanting to. Rist Canyon ascends about 3,000 feet over about 12 miles. When I got here last week it was not on my intinerary. It was on my avoid-at-all-costs list. I considered returning to Estes Park today (it's hard to spend too much time at the omphalos) but I decided I wanted something closer to Fort Collins. Given the relative ease of the trip to Estes Park (only a few hundred yards on the smaller ring), I thought Rist Canyon would be a worthy, and maybe too much of a, challenge.
When I rode Rist Canyon in 2005 I did nearly the entire ride on the smallest, 30-tooth ring, of the three rings my bike had at the time. I don't have a 30-tooth ring anymore, just a 39- and a 53-, and teeth matter. Basically, the fewer teeth on a ring -- the rings are the things with teeth that pull the chain and to which the pedals are connected -- the easier it is to pedal, just not as far and not as fast as using the bigger rings (to learn more about this, check out sheldonbrown.com).
I used the big ring for the first couple of miles out of Bellvue. By the time I met up with Rob (right) and Luke (guys, if you're reading, let me know if I got the spellings right), I had been on the 39-tooth for a while. What blew my mind about these guys is that they were riding a road bike and a mountain bike. They'd agreed to switch shoes and bikes every two miles. When I met them they were still friends even though they had at least three switches left. I hope they were able to cope, and stay hydrated, after they found the Rist Canyon Volunteer Fire Department locked up tight.
There's no humiliation in taking a breather at any point in Rist Canyon. Look for the flattest uphill spot so it's easier to start once you're ready. I enjoyed the scenery, even when it wasn't scenic, in several locations. And I kept ascending.
Michael Seeberg writes of Rist Canyon in "Road Biking Colorado: The Statewide Guide," "Near the top, you'll ride 12-percent grades!" That exclamation provides only so much excitement when you're the one on that grade. Nevertheless, a mile or so from the top, a woman descending in a vintage Toyota slowed to tell me, "You're almost there!" I hadn't been so heartened since leaving Rob and Luke, or maybe since I got out of bed. Ten minutes later, I was looking at the Mummy Range, 50 miles to the west.
After a few moments I started the descent. Based on the elevations provided in Seeberg's book, it's about 700 feet down in about a mile. My high speed, I think, was over 49 mph (the speedometer, which records a sustained speed, clocked in at 48.6) but I couldn't see well because my eyes were being blown shut. Whatever speed I attained, it occurred while coasting. I braked only lightly until the last quarter mile or so, when I had to squeeze hard to avoid going into the traffic on Stove Prairie Road.
I broke 40 several times on Stove Prairie and might have been able to approach 50 except for the cattle guards (it's open range -- no livestock fencing -- for several miles), which were a real buzzkill.
My reward, beside the experience: the last popsicle at Carter Valley Campground.
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