Frank vs. The Volcano: Haleakala, Part Deux
The French call it la fringale. It’s one of the worst conditions that can befall a cyclist, this, when our reserves are tapped dry and yet we still have some distance to ride and some obstacle to cover. It’s happened to me twice in my life, and one of them was when I rode Haleakala in January. Of course, I haven’t looked up the exact definition of this wonderful word – fringale – mostly because I’m afraid the definition won’t express to me the meaning I’ve already applied to it. I see the words “fringe” and “gale”, overlapping such that you can’t spell one without the other. Fringale expresses, in my interpretation, that you’ve been torn to shreds (fringe) and left to be scattered to the four winds (gale).
As I set out to ride Haleakala in January, several factors would conspire against me during the effort that lay ahead. First, I was completely unprepared for what it meant to ride the longest paved climb in the world, a climb which also almost paradoxically represents the planet’s shortest ascent from sea level to 10,000 feet*. Second, I was a full 9-month gestation from peaking. Third, I was overly optimistic of my post-holiday form, based largely on evidence gathered during much shorter and easier rides. Fourth, I overestimated the importance of riding the base á bloc in order to gain time where the gradient better suited my riding style. Fifth, largely due to the previous, I would get a bad case of la fringale with almost three-quarters of the climb remaining.
I’ve always believed that each mistake contains a lesson to be learned, and as such, I had several apples to bring to Professor Experience if I was to have any hopes of improving on my time. Within a week of returning from Maui, I was in the midst of planning my rematch. I was training better, eating better, and drinking better (which is the same as drinking less, given that I was a semi-professional drinker, but “less” is a more disappointing word than “better”). In training, rather than focusing on doing my most difficult climbing routes as I usually do, by riding hard uphill and recovering between climbs as a sort of natural interval workout, I shifted my focus to sustaining the high intensity between the climbs as well, in order to simulate the pressure of a long, hard climb. I also took to heart the sage advice from D.S. Gianni, which was, “The time you gain on the bottom by riding hard is nothing compared to the time you’ll lose up top when you’re blasted.” Finally, I reserved a very healthy respect for Pele, the Hawaiian Goddess of Fire whose foot soldier, The Man with the Hammer, lurks on these slopes.
It was with a completely different mindset that I leaned into the first pedal revolution as I started my rematch. A cooling rain fell steadily, and a strong wind was at my face; the rain was welcome, the wind was not. My mind was steeled against what would surely be another four-hour (or more) intense effort, but the lessons were applied at all their moments; I rode within myself on the lower slopes, and kept the pressure on during the steepest section, from 3,500 to 6,500 feet, knowing these were harder than the rest and thus not letting myself be bothered by a drop in pace.
But we athletes are suspicious creatures, for whom ancillary events take on a larger meaning. Somewhere along the Haleakala Highway, at around 3,000 feet and with still-good legs, I witnessed a strange event: a white German Shepard taking down and killing a fawn. I immediately knew it was an Omen of some kind, surely foretelling my fate higher on the mountain. The only problem was that I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be the dog or the fawn.
Once past the Ranger Station at the entrance to Haleakala National Park, near 7,000 feet, where the road gets easier but the elevation begins to take it’s cruel toll, I could cling to the hope that Pele would smile on me that day and I was increasingly confident that I was in fact the dog and not the fawn. Up past 8,000 feet and Michelle delivered my first and only split: 3:25 – sub-four is possible, but only with a hard effort from there onwards. I was encouraged by the news, yet the thought of continuing – or, indeed increasing – the effort was unwelcome. I would have almost preferred to be told I was slower than last time so I could ease off and only busy myself with thinking up good reasons why I would have deliberately ridden the hill more slowly this time. The rain and wind at the base would have featured a starring role in these justifications.
Instead, I was tormented by the idea that I might ride up in four hours and one minute or, even worse, four hours even, to be haunted by the knowledge that I most certainly could have shaved the time from my ride to go sub-four. The pressure in my legs increased in tandem with my growing desire to coax more speed from the pedals. And therein lies the cruel truth of climbing above 7,000 feet: you can’t dig deep anymore; there simply is not enough air for you to fuel your muscles.
In the midst of this increased effort, just before 9,000 feet, I was faced with an apparition from my January ride: a man stood next to his bicycle, suffering from severe cramps. A double take to make sure my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me, and then a word of encouragement for him to carry on (which he did).
The road from 9,000 feet is the easiest 1,000 feet of the lot. With the very painful exception that there is a steep, final ramp that takes you to 10,000 feet and the summit. As you claw your way along the mountainside towards this last ramp, the observatory at the top comes into view. It is the closest it’s been, but it is still a long way away and distressingly high above. And then you remember that the Visitor Center, where the climb ends, is the small building to the left of the Observatory. To the left, and higher.
The bidons. The bidons. They’re just dead weight now, dragging me back down the mountain. They are nothing but two little malicious anchors, serving only to slow me down and ensure I never reach the visitor center. I hate the both of them, sitting in their cages like that. Just as Jaques Anquetil would never have won a single of his five Tours de France had he not moved his bidon from his frame to his jersey pocket, I would never have reached the top had I not jettisoned mine as I started the final ramp. That single act was the only one that saw me to the summit, 6 minutes and 40 seconds shy of the most unthinkable time possible, four hours even.
Having comfortably gone up in under four hours (3 hours, 53 minutes, and 20 seconds), I am shocked at how much easier a climb is when you haven’t bonked already before the halfway mark. I guess that’s the loophole in Rule #10:
It never gets easier, you just go faster. Unless, of course, you ride like a complete twat.
I find I have to tell myself things in order to give my mind the space it needs to prepare for a truth I’m not yet ready to know. My (repeated) declaration in the Visitor Center that I’ll never do the climb again is such a thing. So shortly after the effort, I’m not prepared for the fact that I will soon be plotting my next assault on the mountain. I need a few minutes to savor the accomplishment before marginalizing it by declaring I’ll do better.
But I won’t go up again only to carve 5 or ten minutes off my time. 3:53, 3:50, 3:45; they are all the same. Next time I go up, it will be for sub-3:30. I’ll have to come up with a plan for that one. And I’ll probably need more of Gianni’s dog vaccinations.
Video: Frank vs. The Volcano: Haleakala, Part Deux
[youtube width=”615″ height=”375″]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NzgkNVxXeOI?hd=1[/youtube]
Photos: Frank vs. The Volcano: Haleakala, Part Deux
[dmalbum path=”/velominati.com/content/Photo Galleries/frank@velominati.com/Haleakala August 2011/”]
*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.
Awesome, impressive stuff mate.
Is it just me, or does The Sign o’ The Merckx make one look a tad retarded?
Actually, it’s not the Sign, it’s the slippers/white socks, backwards hat and lack of oxygen-induced goofy grin…
@brett
I was just about to suggest that it wasn’t the sign…
Oh, and Ullrich and I disagree on the sandals. Those things are the tits!
Nice work Fronky boy. What a Velomihottie to drive all the way up acting as your support!
For how many minutes do you reckon VMH stopped the clock for you during the climb?
I guess you will never know…
@frank, we antipodeans would say “They are the Duck’s Nuts”
For the next slaughter of the hill, may I suggest a rule violation and for you to borrow a Garmin. Would love to see some of the data for this ride.
@Marcus
A true DS and VMH would NEVER undermine such a sacred ride, and stop the clock just so Frank could get the “right” time….:)
Brilliant””and well worth the wait, but Jayzus: I think you spent less time on the mountain than it took me to read and view this.
@Steampunk
Well, as Lincoln said in a letter to his friend, “I’m sorry I wrote you a long letter; I didn’t have time to write a short one.”
I’m way to busy breaking the Fun Meter than to write a concise post!
@Marcus, @Xponti
Oh, wow. If you knew her, you would not question. (I never do, I learned that lesson already.)
And I quote:
Why do people always yell “Go” in three’s?
Awesome, Frank! 3:30, eh? That kind of time might require other riders to pace you. Why not do your next ascent as part of the Cycle to the Sun?
Great, splendid stuff frank. Sub 3:30 hey? I guess that means drinking mo’ better, i.e. nothing? This may be a far greater test of will….
@frank
Not at all a criticism: time wonderfully spent. Thanks and congratulations again. I suffer from the same: while on a long ride, every single possible thought that could enter my head does. Some days, it’s the Man with the Hammer sneaking up on me; some days it’s me riding him off my wheel (subconsciously, of course). Some days I can recount every single crack in the pavement or how I didn’t lean enough into such-and-such a turn. Those are the good days. Other days I don’t know how I got to a certain point at all. Neither involves anything quite like the suffering involved in revisiting the volcano, though. Looked like some good form throughout.
Methinks Gianni might be out of a DS job””and without the HTC rep to get him a new one.
I am looking to ride this in the spring…up until now I just had Ryder for inspiration!Ryder Hesjedal crushing Haleakala
Photo 14 is all sorts of epic! Can’t wait to get home & watch the video (damn work filter)!
Chapeau.
@frank, I wasn’t questioning, but from all you have said, supporting the Fem DS extrodinaire…..:)
I am not sure how @marcus could even bring such thoughts to your ride…oh yeah, he likes F@#king with your mind….:P
A great tale masterfully told. Chapeau indeed.
@Mikael Liddy
Same here.
Magnifique, Victoire…. I’ve now exhausted my french for such an occasion.
Was the weight of the Velominati Nation inspirational or merely an unwanted burden?
Great story, video, and pictures. Looks like a nasty climb. The highest I’ve even been is a bit over 6,000 feet at Mount Washington, NH and it wasn’t by bike. I’m sure oxygen deprivation sucks. I’m planning a trip to Mount Greylock, MA from my house, but I’m waiting till I’ve lost a bit more weight.
I’ve been lurking for a while now but felt like becoming part of the community. I’m slowly been adapting the rules into my cycling life, but some are harder then others.
I currently break 33 and 50 on purpose, but only because the girlfriend claims I would become less sexy. 2 out of 84 aint bad.
@King Clydesdale
My advice: To paraphrase the great Oscar Wilde, either the hair goes, or she does.
Ditto all the above. Quality all around but most of all GREAT FUCKING RIDE!
I crunched some numbers to satisfy my own curiosity and for comparison…
Is that 56kms at an average gradient of 5.2% (max 8.5) and you averaged over 14.5kph?
That’s great going, Frank. And for that effort you’re free to choose any type of footwear you like…As long as you don’t forget this…
Great article and a fine ride mate. La fringale means the hunger, that’s the knock or the bonk to the rest of us. It’s common French slang among cyclists and bikers alike, and indeed ‘fringin’ is used as a term of brotherhood among people who are used to suffering in the same way, and know each other well, so one cyclist to another would greet by saying ‘salut fringin’ pronounced ‘fran-jin’
Chapeau. A Merckxian feat indeed. I am now pondering a trip there myself. No way I can make that time – finishing at all will be the goal.
Very motivating story. And just in time. I will think of you when I try to do my hardest ride ever tomorrow.
Speaking of hills, I was just looking at the Vuelta stages. Whilst it is a short climb, apparently the final kilometre of Stage 8 contains ramps which hit 28%.
Muy steepo!
@grumbledook
Good luck. May the wind be always at your back and the Man With the Hammer always at someone else’s legs.
Great write up man. That really is an astonishing climb!
@Marcus – the vuelta route this year looks like a beast…
Most entertaining – loved the opening, just needed some tumbleweeds.
Two questions…
1. Are you sure you weren’t hallucinating about the dog/wolf/Yeti thing. Surely White Fang is not roaming Maui ?
2. @4.16 is that a 10 year old riding down on his mountain bike. Did the kid rode up the mountain first ? Or did you fail to have the presence of mind to yell Rule #55 at him. Neither option is really good.
@G’phant
Thanks, G’phant! (I will try this one. Luckily, there is a shortcut option in case the Man With the Hammer hits me …)
Strong work, Fronky Boy!
I love that fact that you go to this vacation hotspot, where most folks just look forward to lounging on the beach, maybe taking a surfing lesson, and what do you do? Or, climb the hell out of a volcano.
Awesomeness!
Steampunk – Aren’t those rides crazy where you become fixated on the tiniest of details? The pavement, the width of the shoulder, the patches of glass. I’ll head out some days to “do some thinking” in the saddle and a few hours later all I’ve done is let my legs do the talking. Those are magical rides.
Congrats Frank, a feat to be proud of.
You’re not too fat to pen a good phrase either. Describing a word as “disappointing” is good stuff and perfectly apt.
@xyxax
And I’m in love with la fringale“”and don’t want to look it up either.
B’sides, it’s the little things. Note the wheels in pics 1 & 3. While the decals are more or less aligned in the first, the valves aren’t. They seem to be corrected by pic 3. Classic!
@frank
Nicely done sir, nicely done. Your VMH and mine must be related. At a recent crit when I was flagging a bit in the break (and two guys had gone up the road from us), she yelled “QUIT BEING A PUSSY AND GET ON THE RIVET!!!”. She doesn’t even ride bikes.
@frank
Nice ride, but you blew the stop sign by the ranger station – not setting a very good example for the kiddies are we?
Fine work, Frank. Very fine.
Fashion tip, the sandles are fine, but just not with the socks.
Hey Frank, you left this picture out of the DM Album
@Cyclops
Nice work cyclops!
@Cyclops
“With Big Frank breathing down my neck I couldn’t ese up, and I don’t mean Schleck”
Excellent work, I’m sure cuddles and schleck snr will treasure that for years to come.
Awesome write-up and video Frank, though I must say I was a bit saddened that you turned down my suggestion of using Bruddah Iz for the soundtrack.
I may have a chance to ride this volcano in about a year and a half; we’ll see if I think I can do it by then.
@Steampunk
Frank’s writerly story-telling will have to hold us until your exegesis on “We Wish to Inform You…” drops.
@Cyclops
Nice shot, ‘clops!
@all
The cool thing is that he actually looks like he belongs there.
@Cyclops
That’s because he has V in spades!
Great video Frank – you inspire us all!
Fantastic video really enjoyed that , makes ma wanna go there and climb that volcano
@Jeff in PetroMetro
The thought had crossed my mind, but I definitely wanted to do my ride solo as I had in January. Just me, my legs, and my suffering. I don’t need a group for that. Also, I find the $200 entry fee a bit steep, though I’m sure it’s based on their costs and is a reasonable fee.
@il ciclista medio
I wonder, actually, if drinking none is better. You need to keep drinking enough to make your body realize what it means to suck. Alcohol is really good at that.
So, I’m already working out how I’m going to go sub 3:30. Like I said in the article, that will require some planning. Much more than this one, which just meant making sure I did some training (at all), lost weight, and didn’t ride like a twat.
Besides, taking 30 minutes off a 4 1/2 hour ride is easier than taking 30 minutes off a 4 hour ride, relatively speaking. Especially considering I actually think I rode pretty well, as opposed to last time.
I didn’t realize how relatively easy the gradient is from 7,000 feet onwards; I could have picked up 5, maybe 10, minutes just by not expecting it to kick back up. But that still leaves at least 20 minutes to find somewhere on the road. That’s going to have to come from riding everything faster.
A guy on Facebook mentioned he’s gone sub-3 hours. I hate him for it, too. That’s an amazing time. I would have to cut off an arm and lose 10 or 15 years to get that time.
Also, a 14-year-old kid on facebook said he’s doing the ride. Good on him, way to start young. I’ll try to get an update.
Frangin is slang for brother, frangine is slang for sister. La frangale is to be starving. Bonking among cyclists.
@VeloVita
Ha! Yeah, the VMH paid the fee and I just blazed through there; not a good example indeed, but do you have any idea how important it was for me not to lose time? LIVES HANGING IN THE BALANCE.
The guy in the booth refused to let her pre-pay for me, and made her wait until I’d passed. Then as I ride through, he says, “She’s paying for you.” Yeah, thanks, mate…we kind of worked that out already…
@The Oracle
Agreed in general, except when directly engaged in cycling activities, like with the cap. The reason for those sandals and not flip-flops is that they work great to transport you from sock-donning to shoe donning. One happens when you kit up, the other when you depart.
Check out any Pro pre-ride. They’ll be in socks and similar (if not the same) sandals.
@Fermapiedi, @Doug P
There you guys go, destroying the imagery. “Hunger Knock” is so much less awesomer than being torn to fringes in the gale!
@Cyclops
We’re going to have to do a high-res one of those so I can print it and hang it in the workshop. You are much too good at that…And you even have my on my boy Grimpelder’s wheel.
@all
Thanks all for your kind words. It’s all y’all in the community that turn what would be a regular old ride into an epic. Without you, I’d certainly not do the video, probably not really write much about it, and absolute wouldn’t have ridden it so hard!
So thanks to you all.
@frank
Speaking of your VMH, how would you reckon the ride would go if you didn’t have a support person to give you fresh bottles/snacks and such along the way?
If you were to just ride up the volcano and not try to set a record time, would it be doable solo? Are there even places to grab some water on the way up?
It would be interested to have a guest article written by your VMH from her perspective of spending four hours in a support role for such a ride.
@mcsqueak
Oi, “It would be interesting to have a guest article…”.