Flying into Maui, the first thing you see are the tops of the volcanoes on each of the Hawaiian islands. An awesome sight, they appear as massive domes that stretch high above the clouds. Descending, as the plane passes through the cloud layer, one is struck by how far below the ocean and island still are. These are big hills, and as a cyclist psychologically preparing for a ride to the top of Haleakala, it is an acute signal of what kind of ride it is going to be.
The road to the top of Haleakala rises from sea level to the summit at 10,000 feet*, which is more than 1/3 the prominence of Mount Everest and equates roughly to the altitude gained by mountaineers ascending from Camp I (the fist camp above the Ice Fall and Base Camp) to the summit of the world’s highest peak.
The day of the climb dawned with near-ideal conditions on Saturday. Bike Number 1 spent the night in our apartment on the lovely Rose Compound (where we were guests of unbelievably gracious hosts) and as I ate breakfast, Gianni set about preparing the bike and rider for what lay before us: air in the tires for the bike, estate-grown and roasted espresso for the rider. (Gianni, his VMH, and the Roses have life figured out, by the way.) Final preparations were made, and we headed to the coast where I was to start my warmup by riding into Paia, where the climb officially starts.
I was blissfully unaware of the difficulty that lay before me, and more than a little too optimistic. Altitude has never bothered me and, having done big, long climbs all over Europe and the United States, I understand my limitations well enough to know that gradient is a more serious obstacle for my large frame than is length. When it came to gauging my effort, I figured that since I can comfortably sustain 20 or more kilometers per hour up a 6% grade, I figured that, based on Haleakala’s reported 5.5% average, I could easily do the whole climb at 15kmph, meaning I should have a sub-4 hour ride in my legs. The only unknown, in my naive mind, was what effects a 60 km climb to 10,000 feet would have as the air thinned on my way up. That particular unknown has been answered beyond a shadow of a doubt.
My strategy for the climb was to set at a solid pace at the bottom, fast enough to give myself a cushion for my inevitable slowdown near the top, but not so fast I would fire of the Guns of Navarrone too soon. I set off like a puppy being taken to The Farm, full of confidence and optimism, and with absolutely no idea of how hard Pele was about to bitchslap me. The first quarter of the climb is steady and did nothing but bolster my confidence, with a pace higher than I expected. Things were off to a good start.
In retrospect, I have established the theory that after Hansel and Gretel escaped the Gingerbread House, they made a trip up the volcano, but rather than leaving a trail of breadcrumbs, here they left a trail of wasps along the route, left there to be inhaled by the poor sods who attempt to ride up. The wasps are few and far between at the base, and steadily increase in density as one nears the top. The last 200m of the ride is almost entirely made of Yellow Jackets.
With the completion of the first quarter of the climb comes the turn onto Crater Road, the switchback-laden road that rises all the way to the summit. Most climbs are passes – meaning they approach a saddle or low-point on a ridge in order to cross into an adjacent valley. Crater Road is a sinister beast that goes right for the jugular, leading to the very summit of the mountain. Not terribly steep but very exposed, the wind whips around the side of the mountain from all sides, giving the rider a headwind in almost every direction and steadily sapping any strength from the legs.
By 5,000 feet, after 30 km of climbing and with the ride almost half over, I was completely wasted and the climb became a death march with me staring mostly at my rear axle and being saved only by The Rules emblazoned upon my right thigh. I lost count of my elevation somewhere after 6,000 feet and I retreated into a dark, dark place where unholy thoughts of hatred frolicked, pain tasted bitter on my tongue, and time moved inperceptably. I bargained with Merckx. I bargained with myself. I vowed never to ever do this climb again, if only I could reach the top.
I was rocked back to reality at 8,000 feet when the guns cramped so badly I had to lay on the side of the road for a few minutes to massage some life back into them. The ride from 8,000 to 9,000 feet took a year off my life. At a certain point, I noticed I was making all manner of strange noises that I would prefer I never make again. The last 1,000 feet to the summit, though mentally the easiest, was spent communing with butterflies and cursing everyone’s name I could think of. Cruelly, the last stretch to the very tippy-top is viciously steep and most unwelcome. I came terrifyingly close to falling off for a lack of speed and strength.
Can’t wait to do it again. I’ll go sub-4 hours for sure. Enjoy the film and photos of the ride.
Video: Frank vs. The Volcano: Haleakala
Photos: Frank vs. The Volcano: Haleakala
[dmalbum path=”/velominati.com/content/Photo Galleries/frank@velominati.com/Haleakala/”]
*The elevations in this article will generally be referred to in feet as this is how the roadsigns along the road are measured and, while it breaks with the convention set forth in Rule #24, these measurements have been forever burned into my brain. 10,000 feet is 3048 meters.
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Finally just got to watch the vieo. That was awesome Frank. I didn't realized the magnatude until you got to the 9000' mark and it dawned on me that you would still have to "climb up Sunnyside" (our local big climb) at that point. I especially liked the "profesional" hand ups.
I guess the commissaire let it go, seeing all those wasps buzzing around Frank's mouth.
@Cyclops, @Jeff in PetroMetro
I was wondering if someone would call us on that. That felt by far the most Pro of the whole thing. Gianni was masterful at driving the right pace, and VMH was always ready with a firm hand and making up reasons to give me stuff. Merckx, that felt good as we got up there.
@Brett
Sorry mate, but I did curse your name when it started to look like your 4:52 prediction was getting realistic.
The Cogal sounds like an awesome idea. We'll organize one here in Seattle, too. We'll hit all the cobbled sections in town on the Saturday before Flanders. (The climbs/stones are more like Flanders than Roubaix, hence the Flanders choice, not Roubaix.)
@Oli Brooke-White, @Rob
Re: position, thanks for the feedback. Over the years and years I've been riding, I've been dropping my bars more and more to get the center of mass down and improve the handling of the bike. I'm pretty flexible and my breathing isn't impacted by it, but I have recently been thinking of swapping out to a Pro Vibe7 stem because it has a 10 degree rise versus most companies with the 6 which is too high. Not for breathing but because my neck gets tired if I'm in the drops for a few hours at a time (like on the descent). Also considered the Specialized stem that has adjustable angles; but it's a bit heavy and I don't like the idea of putting a Specialized product on my bike.
As for the saddle height, I just dropped my seat last season to combat some knee pain, and it seems pretty happy. I may lift it a touch, though. Thanks.
As for saddle Hightower
If your bike doesn't handle well with the 'bars at the right height perhaps it's the wrong bike for you?
People who think their current position is fine despite advice to the contrary are common, and sadly it's also common to ignore the possibility that even if you are feeling okay you can always improve. You have been riding for years and years but I've been riding and successfully fitting people to bikes for over 30 years, just to give my opinion some context.
The entire bike-fit industry is predicated on the fact that often it's difficult for a rider to assess themselves as well as an unbiased outsider can, but I know you've been down this road many a time so I'll stop now...
@Oli Brooke-White
Worth of a post all its own - and a much vexed subject. Last November (with a thought similar to your second paragraph above) I decided to get a bike fit after riding about 8 years on a custom frame. Thought it might be time to check things out given the passage of time and the shortening of hamstrings, etc. Got on a whizzbang set up machine fitted to a computer that worked out in what position I produced the most power, etc etc. The fitter ended up making significant changes including putting my saddle back even further than it already was (ended up 11cm behind the bottom bracket - and I aint tall) and higher, getting a much narrower pedal position (included buying narrower speedplay pedals) and a few other bits and pieces.
Started getting saddle sores immediately following the fit - thought I might be set too high and reaching so lowered it a touch. No more saddle sore. Persisted with the rest of the set up until around mid-Jan. Put up with sore outsides of my feet, some knee soreness etc., before finally deciding f-ck this, this pozzy might be best for my power output but not for more than 30 mins before discomfort sets in - which surely must have a deleterious effect on my riding. So have made a few changes to my cleat position to get a bit more comfortable and am still messing with my saddle.
So now I have the bike fit "yips" or "fiddles". Every bloody ride I am wondering about it - have developed different aches in places I never had before. Am sure my fit was "theoretically correct" - after all I had a big computer screen with graphs and things telling me what my power was doing as each change was made. But bugger me, it has brought on its own set of issues...
@Marcus When Lance went in the wind tunnel to help design the F1 or w/e that stupid TT bike was called, they produced a very aerodynamic bike that was supposed to give him a great power output. After a kajillion dollars and hundreds of hours of spending he went back to the old bike. Liked it better. If you aren't comfortable enough to enjoy riding your bike I guess it doesn't matter how many watts you can put out.
Or maybe it just means he really is a COTHO.
I'd be curious to get a pro bike fit some day. My homecooked fit includes a hard cover copy of The Timber-frame Home, a string with a dog whistle hanging from it, a metric straightedge, my rollers, and my VMH. I'm comfortable and my bike is Rule compliant but I do wonder how different things would be if I got a fit, especially when it comes to cleat position.
Like @ZachOlson says though I'm happy and enjoy riding.
It's a tough call - and Oli, please don't confuse my not agreeing with you with njot considering it very seriously and not appreciating it, and certainly not being willing to get better and better. And absolutely no disrespect to your considerable experience and success fitting people to their bikes.
Absolutely, we should keep experimenting and always try to get better; I've been higher (that's where I've started) but just kept going down to get comfortable. When I go up 1.5 cm to my 6 degree stem, my back starts to hurt and the bike feels less stable. What you say makes sense, but just doesn't work in practice for me. Like @Marcus and @ZackOlson say, the pro fit doesn't always yield results. Too many factors of physiology that we just don't completely understand, I guess. @Gianni's VMH also did a fit and it leaded to all kinds of ailments. Very tricky stuff.
For me, the key thing to my comfort is low bars, it's just how I'm made. When i switched to the 17 degree stem (2cm lower), my speeds when up imidiately, my back pain went away, and the bike cornered better. It was pretty convincing for me.
But like I said I may go to the Pro stem (can I put a shimano product on my bike???), to go up about a cm. Doesn't hurt to try. The big question is, do I dare go with the white model or do I stick with the black?