Friday, August 31, 2007

Return to Rist Canyon

Two years ago Rist Canyon kicked my ass. It kicked my ass again today but not quite as hard.

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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