Thursday 14 May 2009

Nothing could prepare me for this...



Day 39, Stage 27 - Seligman to the Grand Canyon
109 miles in 10hrs 10 mins (incl. 2 punctures, three food stops and
ONE OTHER VERY NOTABLE DELAY, more of which below)
Total distance - 2,255 miles
The alarm got reset a number of times as I woke feeling even more exhausted than I had yesterday morning (and I'd felt pretty awful then). So, the prospect of 100+ miles with another 5,000ft of climbing up to around 7,000ft was pretty far from appealing. Still, the bike would be mercifully light today with my mum taking most of the kit and I had the not-inconsiderable carrot of a rest day at the Grand Canyon ahead. This was also likely to be a bit of an emotional destination for me as I remember my dad once saying to me many many years ago when I was a kid that it was the one place over all others that he really wanted to go to. I'd always remembered that and had said to myself that if I ever had the money I would treat him and my mum to a trip here. I now have the means, but all too late.

This morning's plan was to join Route 66 for the first 25 miles into Ash Fork but what I'd thought was a junction turned out to be an underpass so it was back onto the interstate for that stint (after yet another Subway stop, this one after only one mile). During this first few miles I pulled over for a drink on the climb out of Seligman and listened to drone of the endless stream of trucks passing by. Then as I stood there suddenly there was an almighty 'bang' as one of the big rigs had a F1-style engine blow up of spectacular proportions leaving a trail of smoke billowing across the highway through the early morning sky. I got back on my bike, rode past the stricken giant, looked down and my legs dancing on the pedals. 'Go on', I thought to myself, 'the 20 tons and 1000-or-so horsepower beast can't make it up here but I can'. My ego was suitably boosted and I felt awake for the day.

Stripped down to just the absolute minimum of kit the bike felt remarkably lively compared to the tank-like handling when fully laden. It was like jumping into a sports car having been driving a wallowing 4x4 for hundreds of miles. As such, I decided this would be known as my 'Lotus Day', given that company's reputation for making minimalist speed machines. It did cross my mind that perhaps this was tempting fate given the reputation of said brand - Lots Of Trouble Usually Serious. Still, I stuck with it.

The 800ft I'd climbed were then quickly given up (and a bit) in the run down to Ash Fork where I stopped in a garage to refuel ahead of the 2,000ft climb I knew was just ahead. Fed and watered I jumped back on the bike only to realise I had got my seemingly obligatory morning puncture (three in three days). Once fixed the climb beckoned and I set out on it knowing there was a slow 12-15 miles ahead. I switched the gps off at the bottom with it showing around 5,000ft as I really didn't want to know how much I still had to go and expected the 'Elevation 6,000ft' road sign to let me know I was halfway up. But after 12 miles of not particularly taxing climbing I hadn't seen it. I stopped and nervously switched the gps back on as I really feared what sort of a monster last few miles of climbing remained, but to my surprise and relief it showed I was only 100ft from the summit. And for once, it wasn't lying.

The signs then took me off the interstate pointing in the direction of the long, almost dead straight road to the canyon. Now you know that strange feeling you can get at the edge of a cliff or on the top of a hill where you're drawn towards it to look just that little bit further over. Well, as I looked up the road towards the horizon, despite being 60 miles away, I got that feeling. A feeling that there was something unbelievably vast up there, and it was pulling me in to look into it.

I resisted it's pull for a brief few minutes for another snack stop after 55 miles. Cue puncture number two. Yup, maybe 'Lotus Day' was a bad idea, I thought to myself. Still, two punctures is only inconvenient, not exactly 'Serious', I told myself.

The road continued straight on for a further 45 miles, about halfway through which I had made the mistake of mentally telling myself the stage was done for the day about two hours before I would likely finish. I switched into wind-down mode a bit too much and once stopped, it's extremely hard to get going again.

The cyclocomputer ticked on to show the fifth century in eight stages on the slope up to the entrance to the Canyon Park and I happily chatted to the ranger at the gate about my ride. And then, as I pulled away for the final short five mile stint towards the canyon, for the very first time all trip the enormity of what I'd done hit me. I'd actually ridden my bike here all the way from Seattle. Yeah, I know it's patently obvious to anyone following this blog that that's what I've done but, I've spent the past month in the saddle thinking only day-to-day, even just mile-by-mile at times. It always just been a plan on a bit of paper to me, a collection of stages, one adventure followed by another the next day. But it was only now that I could finally grasp it in it's entirety. It had been a long day at the end of the toughest leg of the trip by far. I was exhausted, emotional, and, for a brief moment, not ashamed to admit I was pleased to be wearing shades.

These final few miles went through smouldering forest during which time I happily saw my mum drive past en route to meet me at one of the lodges nearby.

My 'big picture' thoughts were, however, being distracted by an uneasy sense that all was not well with the bike. Surely not puncture number three, I thought. Or is it the spokes on the new (not LA new but Vegas new) real wheel coming loose? Gear cable stretched, perhaps? I just couldn't figure it out despite a number of stops to have a prod around; spokes? Check. Tyre pressure? Check. Gear cable? Check. Quick release, hub, gear mech, sprockets? All checked out ok. But every time I got back on the gears kept jumping and the wheel looked like it had a strange inconsistent wobble in it. I was totally foxed so I stopped yet again, a mile from the canyon edge and took the rear wheel out the frame...

...now I had said a few days ago that I got the feeling the bike was struggling, well I now discovered what that distinctive spoke-breaking-like twang of metal fatigue had been on Monday morning, and again twice this afternoon. At the exact moment I had been having a mini 'breakdown' myself the bike had decided to have a major, and I'm almost certain terminal one. The frame was snapped clean through the right lower chainstay.

Bummer, was my immediate thought. But within a matter of seconds, I surprised myself with how upbeat I was, considering. 'Could have happened at a much worse time and place'. 'Another challenge to overcome'. 'Could have hurt. Lots!' Though they weren't all positive - "Effing 'Lotus Day'". Still, I wasn't even close to despondent.

I still couldn't see the canyon from where I was so hung my helmet on the handlebars and pushed the bike along the final few hundred yards to the edge and just stood there utterly speechless.

Nothing can prepare you for the enormity of this place. Nothing. And I'm not even going to try to put it into any more words because they are just too crude a tool for here.

It was a further three miles of pushing through inquisitive groups of people, a number of whom wanted my picture - and how much of an ego boost do you think that is folk wanting a picture of you given the alternative thing to be snapped nearby! I finally found the lodge with my somewhat relieved poor mother standing outside.

Obviously plans are completely up in the air at the moment (beyond waking in three hours to watch the sunrise) but I've a number of options and I definitely intend to figure out some way to complete the quest. Still, it's been a memorable day in many ways, not least because today I've outlasted both a truck and my bike.