Where Angels Fly
When you’re digging deeper into Rock and Roll, you’re on a freight train headed straight for the blues.
– Jack White
The analog for this in Cycling is that as we dig deeper into cycling, we’re headed for The Mountains. Suffering is the altar of our sport, and Rule VV emphasizes the experience: the pain never lessens; the only indication we have that we are getting better is that the pain simply doesn’t last as long. Like some kind of voluntary Stockholm Syndrome, we find ourselves captivated by mountains, fantasising about riding roads that represent nothing but hours of misery.
I sat in a small dual-prop plane this morning, staring at the imposing and breathtaking view of the series of volcanoes that line the coast from Seattle to Portland. So beautiful, yet incomprehensibly destructive, I’ve never seen them in a row like this, a panorama only possible on a clear day aboard a small, low-flying plane. (I’ve got a thing for volcanoes.)
But this twisted mind of mine could hardly allow me the beauty of what I was seeing; in the valleys directly below the plane were wispy ribbons that cut across the hillsides in a complicated web; ribbons I knew to be mountain roads. Snow-covered dome followed snow-covered dome along my journey, scarcely noticed as I made a silent vow to worship these roads in the only way I know how: to submit to suffering upon them.
Which begs the question, why do we subject ourselves to this? We claim to love our sport, but the word “suffering” doesn’t convey nor imply pleasure. I’m not a religious man, so I’m making a lot of assumptions about the details, but when we say that Jesus suffered upon the Cross, I am fairly certain that we aren’t to take from that the idea that he found it to be in some way exhilarating, that he had a desktop wallpaper of his Cross #1 and a screensaver which rotated through all his Crosses – the ones for good weather and for bad, in different types of wood – along with up-close shots of the beautiful joinery work.
The difference is that on rare occasion, the suffering doesn’t feel like suffering. It feels like freedom, like control over ourselves in a way we can’t find off the bike. Yesterday morning, I stole out for a ride before work. Almost absent-mindedly, I chose the route that snakes its way north, climbing and descending along the Puget Sound coast. Summer mornings in the Pacific Northwest can be almost mystical, with the Marine Layer causing the lower-lying lands to be shrouded in fog while the higher areas are experiencing a spectacular clear morning with views of mountains on three sides and water on the fourth. This was such a day.
Ten minutes into the ride, I was rolling effortlessly along Shilshole Marina, ensconced in a blanket of fog. The masts from the countless sailboats formed hypnotic silhouettes as they gently swayed in the waves, tied to their piers. At the end of the marina, I swung right under the railroad tracks, and rolled onto the first climb of the day, the climb to Blue Ridge from Golden Gardens.
I settled into my rhythm and hit the first switchback moving faster than usual; I swung wide and cut into the turn aggressively so I wouldn’t sweep into oncoming traffic on the exit. I reveled for a moment in the fleeting pleasure that comes when I have to coast through a turn on a climb, then slipped the chain onto the little ring as the gradient kicked up and as the climb started its more determined journey to the top of the ridge.
This is where I always take my seat in the Hurt Locker; the middle section is not terribly steep, but the gradient fluctuates and the pavement is bad in places. As such, it doesn’t suit my ‘strengths’ as a (bad) climber, and here I ask the agent for an aisle seat in the hopes that the pain might be less suffocating there, but instead I find my normal seat in the back row, next to the overweight nose-breather.
I pushed through the steep section in a state of simple, one-dimensional suffering. This is the state consisting of the customary leg-burning, lung-searing pain that I feel every time a gradient kicks up. Where the suffering takes on some complexity is when the gradient eases and I am rendered powerless against the urge to drop the chain into a cog with a tooth or two less. But then something unexpected happened; rather than the usual onset of square pedaling, I found that while the pain levels stayed the same, the speed increased. That can’t be right, so I tried again, another tooth less. The same story, the speed increases. I don’t like to look down, but I forgave myself a quick glance to make sure something wasn’t amuck, like that my chain was missing or some such thing. Sure enough, there was a problem: I was so far down my block that I was about to Schleckacnical.
I did the only thing that seemed reasonable under the circumstances: I moved Sur la Plaque. Again, the speed increased. I swung onto the last stretch of the climb, where the gradient increases again. Out of the saddle, and I was over it before I even realized where I was.
As I reached the top, I broke through the clouds and was bathed in sunlight. The change in light broke the spell, and the magic was gone at once. As I began the descent, I realized that what I experienced was a visit from La Volupte; that was as good as I would feel the rest of the ride, if not the whole season.
She won’t visit again soon, but one short visit from La Volupte is enough to remind me that those fleeting moments are worth countless hours-long sessions under the iron crush of the Man with the Hammer.
There is a place where my soul rests, and that place is in the Mountains. To climb well is to walk for a moment where angels fly.
Quoting Jack White = strong work. Awesomely done!
You’ve nailed it Frank. Last summer, I had a similar experience while hiking back home in Utah. I looked across one of the valleys and had a “what the fuck road is that?” when I saw this:
It’s the road to Powder Mountain ski resort. Steepest maintained road in Utah. 10kms, 1000m. I became obsessed, shying away from the suffering before tackling, and suffering in glory.
Then I returned to it this summer but raced up it:
47:14 + Cat. 5 victory by 18 seconds.
It’s absolutely what we ride for. I am not a good climber. On those days when I climb well it hurts just as much but I go faster and the pain becomes exhilarating. I can hardly believe I can go up a gear, then up a gear. It really does make it all worth it. I am skier really. Was. Life long and I dare to say pretty good. Somebody in a thread recently asked when we realized we were cyclists and thouh I don’t recall the exact moment it was only in he last two years or so on such a climb that i realized that even though I am 100 times a better skier than a cyclist, cycling has captured my soul.
Beautifully, poetically said.
@frank – going to do that route again anytime soon? I’m not familiar with it, but would like to ride it. Tell me when and where to meet up and we’ll go?
@Collin
Love the kit!
– eightzero UM BSAE ’83
I think this is the best article I’ve ever read on this site. Chapeau Frank. Oh, and I’m moving to Washington now – you just made Cleveland more depressing
Very well written Frank.
I am not a good climber, but I enjoy it because it gives me a sense of accomplishment. Any schlub can hop on a bike and go for a ride, but it’s a select subset that look for the hills and pound away at them.
I look forward to a good climb, hate it while I’m doing it, then relish in the feeling of a job well done at the top. If you pick your route right, you even get a sweet descent on the other side that makes it all worth while. I did a 2-hour climb recently that let me go downhill at 30 mph for 30 minutes without putting my foot down once – that was awesome to say the least.
Who said you write fluff Frank? Some say he didn’t climb down and he didn’t fly up but you sure flew on this one!
I was climbing the other day with some mates and mentioned something about getting that fitness that allows you to fly up the hill that in the spring feels like it is holding your tires and pushing you back at the same time. I am hoping that feeling (La Volupte) stays with me Sunday for 200k (3,000m) ride in the Berkshire (NY-MA) hills with mount Greylock at the 3/4 point. Thanks for the inspiration.
Congratulations on that fleeting moment! Magical. Like a cartoon character, however, the realization that you’re floating on air is enough to bring you down. But the thought””the idea””is already implanted. Terrific stuff!
Good shit, Frank. Thanks.
A beautiful ride. Cherish it. And thank you for sharing it with all of us.
Nice. The long, depressing winters in the PNW are more than made up for by those moments. I could move away from here, but I don’t. Can’t actually. If you’re a cyclist, skier, climber, or just love getting outside in beautiful places, there’s nowhere better.
And to the second part: years ago, I was riding the ‘Bridge of the Gods’ route. Twice in one day. That’s 270K with 2100M of climbing. On my second ‘lap’, I was scooting up the biggest of the climbs. Locally known as “Three Mile Climb’. It’s not too steep, but usually you end up in your 49/17-18. I was in a zone, was getting near the top of the climb and not even suffering at all. Looked down and was in my 53/18 ish. Moments like that are what we train for, live for. NO feeling like it in the world.
Very strong work, frank. That was a rad read.
@Frank – fantastic post. Great writing dude…
I’m also lucky enough to live in the Seattle area. It does rock, that’s a fact.
My (almost) daily commute includes a steep mile long climb, right before I hit home. After a long day at work, lunch eaten many hours before, messenger bag full of crap – it tests my ability – mentally and physically. Some days I can cruise right up it. Other days I’m doing “The Paperboy”, zig zagging across the hill to lessen the pitch.
I’ve climbed it on killer nice days, days with the sun cooking my back, days in pouring rain – in the dark – eyes glued to light beam on the wet pavement.
That hill is my friend, even though at times I curse it…
@VeloVita
Cleveland isn’t THAT bad for road riding…is it…? Is it???
Looks like I’m moving there next year…
Marvellous stuff, Frank. Beautifully expressed. Completely the opposite of my four hour slog up and down Wellington’s hills this morning, but a perfect statement of what makes all those torrid death marches worthwhile.
Beautiful stuff Frank – off to find a big hill and give it some
“Which begs the question, why do we subject ourselves to this? We claim to love our sport, but the word “suffering” doesn’t convey nor imply pleasure. I’m not a religious man, so I’m making a lot of assumptions about the details, but when we say that Jesus suffered upon the cross, I am fairly certain that we aren’t to take from that the idea that he found it to be in some way exhilarating, that he had a desktop wallpaper of his Cross #1 and a screensaver which rotated through all his Crosses – the ones for good weather and for bad, in different types of wood – along with up-close shots of the beautiful joinery work”
@Frank – best ever example of fabulously sacrilegious +1
To suffer up long steep climbs, to open one’s heart to the V.
Nice one, Frank! But be careful up in those planes, lest you come back down like Lil’ Bettini.
Thank you Frank for the great beauty in your words.
Interesting meditation on religion and the meaning of suffering.
For myself, I am attracted to the buddist idea that ‘life is suffering’.
The point being that you cannot fully live your life without embracing that idea and welcoming it.
I imagine that by inviting suffering, even in small doses on the bike, it enables me to transcend it. Rarely and in the smallest of glimpses.
Perhaps that is what La Volupte really is. A transcendence of sorts.
frank, once again you have described one of the beauties of cycling. I’ve said it before, there is something deeply satisfying in climbing to me as a cyclist. I think you have put into words that very feeling. Very, very nice stuff sir.
Again, excellent work Frank. I think we all understand the love / hate relationship with the suffering. It’s a classic case of tacit knowledge – I know it but it’s nearly impossible to describe. Like the taste of a banana…
When I was young and indestructible I idolised mountaineers who made absurd ascents in the Himalaya. One such idol was Voytek Kurtyka who climbed big, bold and long and cold and wrote beautifully about “The Art of Suffering.” Some of what he says translates very well into the exquisite agony / ecstacy of road cycling:
“To survive intense cold, starve for days on end at high altitude and still be able to wade through deep snow, a man requires a peculiar stolid brand of passion and determination. A prerequisite for Himalayan climbing was an ability to accept pain. It was considered a sort of psychological triumph of mind over matter….Mind and body seem to listen to a new voice, follow a different rhythm….Whenever a climber leaves the known paths, he enters an area without rules or routines to rely on. The only advice comes from deep inside the self, and hopefully the motivation is true….”
These “masters of suffering” are the ultimate manifestation of the mind over matter philosophy. And fortunately, in our own riding we can find those experiences where mind and body multiply and we just GO, without consciously telling our legs to shut up…
@harminator
I love bananas, never considered it a form of suffering, but then, for some inexplicable reason, many ladies would regard the taste of certain things as suffering too, which is a shame
@mouse
awesome man, I’ll have whatever you are smoking!
great stuff Frank!
herminator…+1 man, that is great stuff too, and i’m no himalayan climber, but there are great parallels in that
Suffering is highly subjective. Some people say they ‘suffered’ and i just look at them and say ‘really’….that was suffering. But…to them it was.
So, in a nutshell, because i just got done with my ride and it was shitty compared to what Frank just wrote about in his ‘daily’ ride, but in a nut shell, I and we suffer to exercise a highest discipline in our lives, a discipline that has been for the most part a lost art in our social-cultural times of today. The more i suffer in the saddle, the less my daily life seems to bother me, the less i suffer at work, at home and at every other thing i do.
So i do, i welcome it, i love it
@mouse
First off, Frank: Beautiful post. I had one moment of La Volupte this Spring when riding in Georgia and I can still taste it on my tongue, amazing moment.
@mouse: Reminds me of the Japanese saying that it is a privilege to know suffering.
@harminator
I co-led an expedeition on Ama Dablam in the Spring of 2000–American Spring 2000 Ama Dablam Expedition–(really cool mountain about 5 miles from Everest) and there is little pain and suffering like hauling loads at over 20,000 feet and trying to sleep without O2 up there.
But, even having done that, and climbed both technical rock/ice and high altitiude in South America,North America, Europe and in the Himalya, I have never known the pain, suffering and twistedly sublime beauty of trying to hold that wheel as you are being slowly spit out of the lead group after 70+ miles in a road race on a climb.
There is such beauty in the pain of cycling, esp in racing, that I have never felt anywhere else in life.
What were you doing in a prop plane?
And of course, this:
Merckx help me.
@eightzero
Sweet Baby Jeebus that looks tempting!!!
Smashing piece of writing Frank, apparently the missus has fielded a few questions at the wedding she’s had to stag to after my crash today along the lines of “why would he go riding if he knew he had something on in the afternoon?”
My answer of “It was Saturday morning and the weather was amazing.” didn’t seem to make sense to a lot of them…
@Mikael Liddy
If they have to ask, they’ll never understand. :)
@frank
I live in an essentially flat place and I’m a poor climber for it. I grew up in Hong Kong though, which is hillier than you’d imagine and went to school in Scotland. I feel at home in mountains and find incredible peace. As I get more into cycling, road or mountain biking, the urge to seek that peace through the suffering of getting myself to the top increases.
A great piece. Strong work.
@Collin
Chapeau, Colin. Dud kit though my dad taught at the other Michigan place.
@harminator
Beautifully put. It’s
…always interesting to see how few sports can compare in terms of the physical sacrifice and commitment. Mountaineering in those conditions must be one of them though.
I am not a banana fan but occasionally, you do come across one that’s just right.
@Dr C
sicko
@eightzero
awesome! where?
@Collin
Here you look like Johnny Hoogerland at this year Giro!
Very well said Frank, those moments are not common
nevertheless they happen in the cycling life of everyone.
It’s fantastic when you do not feel the chain or non senti la catena!
@Chris
That’s the famous Stelvio. I’d pay real money to hit that.
Threadjack: Regarding the Principle of Silence. This is a holy canon of mine. The Bike Must Be Silent. However, some noises are normal – the hiss of the tyres on the road, the whirr of the chain. But I find myself being distracted from my ride to listen for errant noises. Every time I shift, I spin a few turns while I listen for clicking. There is a very, very faint rhythmic clicking coming from my drivetrain that I suspect only I can hear. I rather think it is my chain – a SRAM PC-1071 with about 2000 miles and is between .75 and 1.0 mm stretched. Time to replace? Anyone have any experience with the KMC X10SL?
@Spicy McHaggis
Outside of the city there are some great country roads to ride, just no mountains to climb. That’s more or less what I was getting at.
@eightzero
IMO the kmc x10sl is simply the best. Strong, light. Pricey but worth it and the gold one looks sweet!
( I’ve driven on the stelvio in the winter, was a bit too worried to enjoy it)
@eightzero: sounds like your getting close to a new chain, its a new chain w>1mm but the noises will also get louder as the rollers and pins stretch
I love the PC chains, 9 and 10’s as they are my preferred chain, PC-1090 and PC-990, and have used the KMC as well. Dura-ace chains are also good but I haven’t had the 7900 yet.
@Collin, nice climbing, bro. One tip, turn that speed sensor around on your fork. If it gets bumped, your wheel is going pull it into the spokes, destroying your wheel and possibly your face. Check out the placement of the sensors on all the pros’ bikes. O/w, very PRO, and a bangin’ game face.
Go with the KMC, a nice chain.
The mountains and I do not get along (I am fond of the 7 meter climb of the first bank of a velodrome – pure balls on the rail) but have found my moment of grace about two weeks ago. Short claSsics type climb, but all mine that one day.
Passion…
@eightzero
Worth every cent. Taken from the top a few years back. A must do.
@eightzero
Wow that looks mindblowingly beautiful, almost like someone has airbrushed the road onto the hill – one for the to do list for sure – here’s a vid of the climb in 4 minutes…
Stelvio in 4 minutes
even on video, it’s like the world just opens up the further you climb – leaving all the pressures of real world behind – no wonder we love this sort of thing
By the way, how long does it take everyone to loosen up? – I can’t get my guns firing until I’ve done at least 10 miles and a 1000ft climb – is there some way to bypass this, as it is hateful suffering, albeit transient – after that, whatever comes next is fine, throw it at me, but Merckx do I suffer until then, but not in a pleasant way….. any advice welcome (apart from Rule #5 suggestions)
@Dr C
Nup.
I think that’s the secret. You can’t unlock the secret closet (unpack the suitcase of courage?) until you pay the price.
I find the deeper I’m willing to push on the first 10 minute climb of my sunday ride, the better and faster the rest of it comes.
@Buck Rogers
A+1 to that brother.
It is interesting to contemplate the similarities between cycling and climbing.
Climbing is what I took up with a passion during my 10 year cycling hiatus. Though I could never consider myself particularly gifted, I did love the difficulty of it; the facing of your deepest fears and the gifts bestowed upon you by the sublime beauty the world has to offer when you just ‘pay attention’.
Mountaineering writing does have the consistent thread you refer to when speaking of Voytek Kurtyka. The suffering, and the amazing ability to forget its impact and indeed romanticise it after the fact. It’s life fully lived.
Or…
Maybe we’re all just deranged.
@mouse
guess you are right, no such thing as a free sufferjoyfest – just wish it wouldn’t take so long – II suspect I am not riding often enough at the mo – 2 x week only, must get out more
just bought a Specialized Crux Cyclocross bike yesterday, to make n=3 – looking forward to some slidy falling off into bushes entertainment over the winter!
@eightzero
if the clicking is only when you are putting some wattage down, but not when lightly spinning, might be a bottom bracket issue?
@all
Great conversation; I’m missing it because I was on my way to Wisconsin when I wrote it and been out here with my folks in Cycling Nirvana in the Missisippi River Valley.
@eightzero
It’s what I call the Northern Loop – it’s not very long but has some nice (short) climbs. The climb described here is all of a few km’s max; short but beautiful. The short duration of La Volupte only serves to emphasize it’s beauty. In “Tomorrow, We Ride”, Bobet describes having that feeling all the way up the Col d’Eze…that would be amazing. Maybe I’ll have it all the way up Haleakala next time. Not likely.
The route I have on MapMyRide is out of date; I’ll update it and post it. I’d also be delighted to hook up for a ride together and I’ll show you. I’ve got about 3 really great routes that I spend most of my time on, doing variations of them or all of them together in one monster deathmarch.
@all
Beautiful posts from everyone on their favorite climbs/rides. The Mountains truly seem to be our most hallowed ground. All these great notes really put in relief the need for the The Rides section. It’s coming; I just need to find the time to build it up.
@Dr C
Depends on your physiology. For me a short easy spin gets me loosened up enough to enjoy being on the bike, but I don’t get power in the guns until I’ve stressed them first; I usually get stronger on the later climbs in a day.
The VMH takes for ever to warm up, but Merckx, then she just goes and goes. I have a little theory going that people who take longer to warm up are more like diesels and can motor over very long distances without showing much fatigue or slowing down much at the end. Riders who warm up quickly are better over shorter distances. I bet Evan’s needs a long warmup.
I have almost nothing to base this theory on, by the way. But on the sample size of those I’ve ridden with throughout my life, it seems to be pretty accurate.
@mouse
And +1 more. Interesting to me that I did the exact same thing during my ‘retirement’. I love the suffering I guess. I’ve been to the top of a lot of volcanos (and it’s with some degree of envy that I’ve not climbed overseas), and most times swear that I’ll never do it again. The 2am alpine starts, the nagging headaches, the slow slog across glaciers. But then the reward. Getting to the top and not just for bragging rights. I’m by no means a religious man, but that is my church. Wether on a bike, ski’s, or two ice axes and a set of BD stainless’ strapped to the boots. Good stuff.
@harminator
Amazing. I’m fascinated by Mountaineering. Talk about a hunkering down and focussing on the long-term. Sitting in a tent for weeks, waiting for the weather to shape up. Amazing fortitude; risk,. Ed Viesturs (who lives in the Seattle area and is also a cyclist, btw) has some interesting reads that I’ve gobbled up, particularly as regards K2, which is for me the most fascinating mountain – much more so than Everest, though all the 8,000 meter peaks are, of course, incredible. I also think Viesturs might be a bit full of himself, but he does write in a way that makes someone like me, who knows little about Mountaineering, enjoy and understand what he’s after.
There might be some parallels as well, in terms of how we view doping versus how Mountaineers view using Oxygen. We did some riffing on postulating on the The Acceptability of the Method for anyone who cares.