The one true story of Harper Day
If a ride isn’t documented then it didn’t really happen so I thought I’d put pixel to screen and record some of my thoughts on Saturday’s ride, especially the up part which I did by myself, sacrificing my body to further my ego (and to simplify the carpooling).
My original calculation for the up’n’down had me leaving home at 6:50 AM to get me on the trail at 7:30, to guarantee enough time to do the 23 miles by 11:00, but I was always willing to leave a bit later and make it up. In the end I left home at 7:30 and I wasn’t on the trail until 8:30–the drive was a bit longer than predicted, and the inevitable fussing with supplies and parking passes takes a few minutes. Since I was starting late I was pleased to see the sign at the beginning of the trail (well, the place I started, half a mile from the real trailhead) saying 21 miles to Hyak. That saved me two miles right off the top.
The ride was a bit tough at first because my legs weren’t really awake yet but I soon got into the rhythm and started chewing up the miles. When I got to Ollalie after 28 minutes I was pleasantly surprised since that was my first indication that I was making good time, since my cycle computer is still out of commission.
The slope is quite gentle so that even with 5" cranks and the slightly increased difficulty from the dirt path the riding is quite easy. You barely feel like you’re climbing a hill. I usually didn’t feel like I was breathing hard, although I did notice it when eating or drinking while riding.
My initial goal was to do the ride with no stops, but that’s a tough challenge. I dropped a spoon from my pack while getting out some water so I had to stop and pick that up, and then my bladder insisted that I make a few stops along the way. I’d originally thought that I’d grab my flashlight while still riding and go straight into the tunnel but since I’d already stopped a few times I got off to do this–probably sensible since complex gyrations with the backpack are harder on a dirt path, and less reliable when your legs are getting a bit weaker from riding 19 miles.
I was feeling great when I got to the tunnel and any worries about being late were long gone. I’d been going for about 1:55, including stops, so I was way ahead of schedule. I rode into the tunnel full of confidence, planning to rocket through it and then have a nap while waiting for the drivers to arrive. This plan quickly changed.
My flashlight batteries were old and not very strong–my flashlight is the same as Greg’s but was about one quarter the brightness–and when you first enter the tunnel your eyes are adapted to outdoor lighting, so with a weak flashlight you really can’t see anything. As the tunnel got darker I felt more and more unstable. I felt like I’d suddenly forgotten how to ride a unicycle and I was about to fall off or veer into the wall. I remembered Tom’s words about his solo ride through the tunnel and I suddenly understood what he had done. It wasn’t just a psychological reaction–irrational fear–because I actually was wobbling and I actually was in danger of falling off or hitting the wall. Apparently I rely on visual cues for balance and the lack of those cues was having a distressing effect. Tired legs weren’t helping. I suddenly realized that a wipe-out in the tunnel by myself could be dangerous. Without being able to see the ground it would be easy to have a bad fall, and I would then be lying alone in a cold, dark, wet tunnel. Mr. Safety would not approve.
I’m not scared of the dark. I’m not scared of going through a pitch-black tunnel by myself. However I am scared of falling off in the dark, or veering into the walls. These are rational fears when you’re feeling unstable and these fears are not easily dismissed.
The adrenalin that this anxiety was pushing through my veins was probably not helping. So I got off. I pondered my options and started walking through the tunnel–annoyed that this was going to do horrible things to my average speed. I resolved to try riding again. I tried self mounting–and failed miserably. I tried mounting while holding on to the wall–and failed miserably. Then I tried self mounting a few more times–doing this in the dark when tired and psyched out is really tough–and I got on. I was still feeling unstable but I could see a bit better and I resolved to keep going because I was damned if I was going to walk the tunnel, and I sure didn’t want to self mount again.
Around this time a couple of cyclists came in the other direction. I resented this because I felt like I needed the whole width of tunnel to myself, but I concentrated hard and squeezed past them. Then I concentrated hard on riding, with one hand clenched around the handlebars and the other in a death-grip on the flashlight. I kept looking at the light at the end of the tunnel, willing it to get larger and closer.
Eventually my adrenalin levels dropped a bit and my night vision improved so that I could see better, which made me feel a bit more stable. I still couldn’t see bumps or holes on the ground, but thankfully there aren’t many. I started to enjoy the ride a bit more, but I didn’t relax and I was still very glad to make the end of the tunnel.
I was very pleased to see Tom Blackwood as I came around the corner to the parking lot. He had just got out of his car, which is pretty impressive synchronization. I was glad to see Tom in particular because I felt a bond between us–we had both had the solo tunnel experience and I knew he would understand when I said “Oh my god that was hard!” Tom and I are now the only known members of the exclusive ‘ride up and solo through the tunnel club’.
If I was doing it again (I should say ‘when’) I’m going to start with brand new batteries and I’m going to ride a hundred feet into the tunnel before I stop to grab my flashlight. I want to be as dark adapted as possible when I start the tunnel ride. I have a whole new respect for the light needs of a Coker rider in the tunnel.
I found out today that one of the two cyclists that I met in the tunnel was a guy that I work with–he works two offices down the hall from me. What are the odds of running into somebody you know in a pitch black railway tunnel? It’s a good thing I was on the unicycle or I don’t think he would have realized it was me.
My total time on the ride up was 2:15, including stops, which is an average speed of 9.33 mph (assuming a 21 mile distance). Subtracting out my miscellaneous stops–particularly my long stop in the tunnel–my average riding speed was probably close to 10 mph. I’m pretty happy with that for a ride with a 1600 foot elevation gain. It’s worth noting that the total elevation gain on the STP is supposed to be only about 4,000 feet.
I was pleased to have a chance to rest while the group got organized, and the many stops on the way down were also appreciated. The stops and the downhill meant that my legs really felt fine at the end–I could have ridden further. My knees were complaining a bit at the end, but that’s about the worst of it. I sure was tired and hungry last night though.
Some of the highlights of the ride:
Singing happy birthday in the tunnel–toneless though it was.
The train whistle in the tunnel was marvelously appropriate.
I was pleased to have not just one but two opportunities to hold hands with Greg, and learning how easy a paired still stand is was cool.
The scenery is, of course, incomparable, and I enjoyed riding along with various people–old friends and new–chatting as we ambled down this beautiful path on our improbable steeds.
The tunnel ride on the way there–tough, but rewarding because of that.
The tunnel ride on the way down–much easier because I stayed close to people with bright lights.
Bruce Dawson, Xbox ATG, vaguely insane Coker rider
P.S. I dreamt of unicycling last night and it was the tunnel ride I dreamt of. It was more of a nightmare really–I was riding in a very unstable manner and was scared to fall. Don’t let this put you off the up’n’down ride though–it is very satisfying–but take a really really bright light, or two.
P.P.S. I continued Harper’s equipment stealing tradition by walking off with Tom Blackwood’s helmet.
P.P.P.S The attached picture was taken by the random coworker that I passed in the tunnel. It’s a nice picture of the waterfall in the tunnel near the West end. Luckily the tunnel was generally pretty dry. The ground was pretty dry, and there was relatively little water dripping from the ceiling.
. But that scenario only lasted a few minutes…by the time we left for sushi, he had it down and we were getting in some decent passing runs. Always cool when another passer enters the world.
Happy Birthday to Harper, hope I can have as great an adventure on my 52nd. Sounds like a great party.