Days 4 and 5, April 20 and 21, Wickenburg to Cottonwood (102 miles) and Cottonwood to Winslow, AZ (109 miles)

 Day 4: Wickenburg to Cottonwood, AZ (102 miles), 8697' up', 7430' down

Brian and I started out at 6:00, getting an earlier start than the others to try to keep us grouped closer together. We had a stiff climb ahead of us to Yarnell Pass.  My legs felt OK the first 10 miles or so, but then the climb began. At about 20 miles, I knew I would not be able to finish the day's entire route.  The support van  with Mike driving came by and I decided the best thing I could do is to skip the rest of the steep climb to Yarnell Pass (4850' elevation), so I rode the van to about the 24 mile mark. I had dead legs.

From there, I rode a nice ride down to Peoples Valley, then Skull Valley and then the road turned up again. It is demoralizing as the road looks flat, but your legs tell you different. After about 20 miles of riding, I reached the first SAG stop at mile 43. I was in my granny gear (lowest gear ratio on the bike) the last mile or so riding 7 mph max up this slope that looked flat and even that was wearing me out. I decided tat the best thing for me to do, considering the many days of riding we still need to do, is to call it a day, and just say it is a light training day. 

Some of our fast riders who overtook us

For some reason, this is called "Frog Rock"

So, I rode the van through Jerome (a touristy town with its buildings glued to the side of the mountain, and Prescott, for a total of only 40 of the planned 102 miles. What I missed were three climbs, the first to Yarnell Pass, and then another hump, followed by the Mt. Mingus summit at 7023' that challenged even our strong riders. I was not unhappy to also miss the screaming technical 10 mile descent down a red canyon into Cottonwood, with some of the riders reaching 50 mph on the twisty, turny two lane road with traffic. I just do not feel comfortable on fast descents, particularly when I cannot see the runout at the bottom.

Looking down into the valley from near the top of Mingus Mountain

This downhill is a lot like Earl, in the song, the missing person who nobody missed at all.

The heat was not as much a factor today, but when I had a chance, I would take my riding jersey off and soak it with water, to provide some evaporative cooling while riding. Also, my skull cap was moistened. Collectively, that combination worked pretty well.

However, as you can gather, this trip is not turning out quite as I had expected. Despite all of the training I had done, it was not enough. I actually did more miles than many of the others, but they had many more years and tens of thousands of miles of cycling as a base, which I did not have.

So, the story line of this blog series has to change from what I had hoped would be an inspirational story of "coming back from near disaster, setting a big goal, creating a plan, working the plan, persevering until success is reached, despite being age 66 and nearly killed less than two years ago" to "What do you do when things do not go as planned? How do you make the best of the situation?"

Formula for success: 

You see, I had thought this would be simply the application of a formula for success I had applied several times in my life. I had put this formula into action in planning for Fast America South, and expected success. The following story illustrates this formula.

The greatest adventure of my life occurred in 1977, when I decided that I wanted to climb Mt. McKinley, in Alaska, the highest point in North America at 20,320’. I had previously climbed Mt. Rainier (14, 411’) with the guide service, Rainier Mountaineering Inc., as well  as Mt. Shasta (14,410’) in northern California with a friend. I joined 8 other strangers and our two climb leaders on Mt, Rainier for a “shake down” and some training prior to flying to Alaska. Then off to Anchorage, then by train to Talkeetna on the “moose gooser”. From there, we flew in Super Piper Cubs in 3’s and 4’s to land on Kahiltna Glacier at about 7200’ elevation on the south side of the mountain in our ski equipped planes.

We started up, going up to 8,900’ and camped. Then on up to 10,000' and camped. Then to 11,300’ and camped, giving our sea level bodies a chance to acclimate to the altitude.

Up to this point, we were dragging cheap, red, K Mart sleds behind us with about 80 pounds of gear, while carrying about 60 in our packs, as the glacier sloped gently up. We had food for 30 days, and 15 gallons of gasoline for our stoves. We would have to melt snow and ice for every drop of water we were to drink on the trip. But above 11,300', the ascent got steeper, and we began to shuttle loads, making a carry to 12,800', made a cache in the snow, then returned to 11,300'. The next day we climbed to our advance base camp at 14,400’.

There we occupied some month or two old igloos, full of junk left by prior parties. We cleaned up the igloos, putting the junk in big, black plastic bags. 

The next day, on the way down to pick up gear from our cache at 12,800, we detoured towards a large crevasse to throw the garbage in. (We knew the glaciers were probably 300 feet deep or more, and that it would be thousands of years before the stuff made its way down to the bottom of the mountain, more than 40 miles away, miles and miles away from any human habitation.) On the way to the crevasse, the middle man on my rope team broke through a snow bridge, beginning to fall into the depths of a crevasse. I dropped onto my ice axe, digging my crampons into the snow, in self-arrest position, and felt myself being dragged to the crevasse. I stopped him about 25 feet down, with room to spare from the lip of the crevasse. The team then pulled him back out. That is a team building exercise I don’t recommend for the timid!

From our 14,400’ camp, we made a carry up the steepest stretch of the mountain to establish a cache at 15,500’, then descended back to camp. The next day, we went back up the same stretch, picked up some of the stuff in the cache, and proceeded along a snow-covered, knife-edged ridge (over 2000’ down on each side) to our High Camp at 17,000’ The interesting thing about this stretch was watching Felix. He had lost his appetite at 10,000’ due to the altitude, had eaten little since, and tired quickly. Watching him trying to get up a short, steep, loose snow stretch was agonizing, as he would take a step up and slide back. But eventually, he made it up there, and on to our High Camp – albeit slowly.

Where the going got tough, and Felix kept going.

The next day, we went for the summit. It was surreal, with the altitude affecting us all. (In prior experiments, it was proven that the ability to do simple mathematical exercises is reduced in half at 18,000 feet, because of the thin air at that altitude.) But going up the last 300’ of elevation to the summit ridge was painstakingly slow, taking 5 or 6 pressure breaths per step, and even then, having to rest for 10 minutes when we got to the top of the ridge to rest before going along the ridge to the true summit. We all made it!

Me at the summit, -15 degrees, 10-15 mph wind

When we got down to our Base Camp on the Kahiltna Glacier, I marveled to Felix about what he did, asking how was even possible, as tired as he had been. He said, “I always knew I could take one more step.”

This climb demonstrates the formula for success:

1. Have a dream or goal
2. Develop a plan to achieve your goal, breaking down the task into easy bites
3. Work your plan, step by step
4. When the going gets tough, when you want to quit, just remember Felix, and “take one more step”

So, following that formula, I had set a lofty goal. I had developed a plan. I had worked the plan and met the minimum requirements to ride this ride. But, now when trying to just "take one more step", it wasn't enough to realize that dream.  So, it became time to apply another formula I had learned from my mom.

When Stuff Happens, Pick an Available Option, Decide and Move On.

I was raised in a very rural area in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, 17 miles south of Houghton and Hancock, out in the sticks, not far from Lake Superior. My dad died when I was two and a half months old, leaving Mom with six kids, with my oldest sister age 16.

We were raised on welfare until I was 17, as there were scant opportunities for work for Mom in the area. We owned our own home, a 24’ x 24’ story and a half structure, located on a 40 acre parcel. Our property was comprised primarily of scrub soft maple and aspen that sprouted after the big forest fires of the early 1900’s after the mighty White Pine were logged. We had no phone, no TV, and heated the house with two wood stoves. We got an indoor toilet when I was 6, but no indoor shower or bath. We warmed the sauna every Saturday and took a bath whether we needed it or not. (I am of Finnish descent, as all of my grandparents immigrated from Finland around 1900.) 

(Oh, by the way, I don’t advise jumping into the snow after getting heated up in a sauna. It is not so bad in the snow, but once the snow stuck to your body melts when you get back in the sauna - Yaowwww!)

Mom believed strongly in education, having graduated from high school when few others did in 1928. She had to attend 11th and 12th grades in Houghton, 17 miles away, as John A. Doelle Agricultural School did not go beyond 10th grade in Mom’s school days. This was quite an achievement, considering she flunked kindergarten – primarily because her mom did not always allow her to attend kindergarten when the snow was deep on the mile and a half walk to school, as Mom was soooo tiny (reaching 4’11” fully grown).

Mom instilled in us the belief that hard work and education were the way out of poverty. All six of us kids have a college Degree, and four of us have a Master’s degree or more. We have lived Mom’s dream for us, as all are successful in life. That is a major reason for all the education I have received, and the basis for my belief that all kids can achieve – being a child in a single parent family on welfare does not necessarily equate to poor academic performance.

An aside: Success comes from hard work, not because you are “smart”.  But, my academic success did not come because I was smart. Mom read to us when we were little. I learned to like to read. I became a good reader and that success drove me to want to do more of the same which made me an even better reader. Success breeds success. When I planned to go to grad school, I enrolled in Evelyn Wood Speed Reading Dynamics. When I  planned to attend law school, I studied grammar, spelling, and vocabulary, which allowed me to score well on the Law School Admission Test. These successes came because I worked hard to become more proficient, not because I was smart. 

It is important to let young folks know the difference and praise them for effort, not some “innate ability” such as “smarts” which they are not accountable for. 

Oh, and once I am on a rant, please don't praise young girls for being "pretty". Instead, compliment them on some personal characteristic which they had to work at, such as diligence, courage, persistence, being cooperative, being assertive, showing confidence, poise, dressing neatly, etc. These are characteristics she has had to earn, not something that was just given to her, and characteristics that will benefit her greatly in the future, instead of growing up hung up on conceit for how she looks, which was simply given to her.

OK, back to the story:  :)

Mom’s Mental Toughness and What Rubbed Off On Me

Mom was mentally tough. Despite the responsibility of raising us six kids by herself, I never saw her worry. When my sister Kathryn took the train to Chicago to try to find a summer job as a nanny, and we did not hear from her for a few days, Mom would just say, “If she is not there, she is someplace else.”, without showing any worry.

I have only seen my Mom cry twice. The first time when my brother Jim was drafted into the Army during the Viet Nam War, and the second time when Linda and I got married right after college and our honeymoon was the trip from Michigan State to attend the University of California, Davis to begin my Ph.D. program in Agricultural Economics.

When my sister Kathryn (or “Dolly” as I still call her) tried to knock me into the ditch while sledding down Saavola’s hill, she wrecked, broke her glasses, and cut herself just above the eye. The Saavolas marveled at how calm Mom acted, as they prepared Dolly to be taken to the doctor for stitches. But don’t mistake this unexcited behavior for callousness, as she was a very loving, nurturing woman. She just maintained a very stoic exterior.

Mom also “went to solution” very quickly when problems arose. One cold (probably about -30 degrees) and windy winter day when I was junior in high school, we could get no water out of our kitchen faucet. The water pump in the little cellar off the house entrance would not run. We guessed that the water in the pump had frozen. So, we put some of the hot water in the kettle on our wood heated kitchen stove in Mom’s favorite remedy for all kinds of problems, the brown rubber hot water bag, and placed the hot water bag on the pump. We then went to the store two miles away. When we got back, as we approached the house, we could see smoke rolling out of the little cellar. I reached through the smoke, and flipped the pump switch off. We were sure the pump was ruined.

Mom asked me to look up in the Sears and Roebuck catalog what a new pump would cost. I think it was something like $68. We thought that our family friend, John Saavola would probably be willing to install it for us, as he was one of many neighbors that were generously helpful to us. She got out her bills and other financial information and started figuring. “Well, we have about $200 of income each month, and we pay $8 per month for electricity, etc… If John will install it, and if we delay this payment here, we should be able to make it.” Meanwhile, we began to wonder whether the pump might still be ok, and that perhaps the water pipe going to the pump may still be frozen. So, while she did her figures, I put some hot water in the hot water bag and put it on the pipes near the pump. When she got done calculating, I went to try the pump, flipped the switch, and the pump worked. Halleluiah! I’ll be darned if that old pump did not work for the next 25 years, before my cousin Pete who bought the place after we moved had to replace it.

The role model played by Mom has served me well. I rarely get rattled when a problem hits, but rationally begin to develop options, evaluate them, choose and implement one and get on to the next thing I need to do. On the other hand, that unemotional exterior I show the world causes some to think I am insensitive, that I don’t care, but it all stems from how I learned to deal with things from my Mom. She was such an emotionally strong woman!

So, it is time to apply these learnings to my current situation. The trip as I had dreamed it was gone. What could replace it? What were my options? I could:

1. still have a great adventure
2. still ride what I could ride and get stronger as a rider throughout the trip
3. see some beautiful country
4. enjoy the ride, and
5. enjoy the camaraderie of the group 

This is still a fun trip, despite the disappointment of not being as ready as I expected. So, I set my mind to achieve those alternate goals.

It has been interesting to note, however, that the confidence I had tried to build riding 13 centuries in 2015, including one 147 miles and four back to back, had been lost - the bubble had burst. My dream had met reality.

I am not sure just how well I will be able to perform tomorrow. Not feeling too chipper now, but after a good night's sleep, all may be well. We will have breakfast at 6:00, and Brian and I will start at 6:30. There is a chance I will be bumped up right away to skip the first challenging climb, but we will see.

For our ride leader's (Mike Monk) version of today's ride, go here. 

Day 5 - Cottonwood to Winslow, AZ (109 miles), 5712' up, 4172' down

The early riders (us slow guys) were to start at 6:30. Mike (the trip leader) and I decided the best thing for me to do today is to be bumped up right from the start and miss the first 20 miles of climb. So, I rode up the road through beautiful red rock country, through the towns of Sedona and Old Town Sedona until we reached Oak Creek Canyon. 

Getting into town

The start of Oak Creek Canyon

Quite a nice ride

I rode up the beautiful canyon until it started switching back and forth very steeply. I thought I could make it to the top, but wondered how I would feel after. I ran into Mike parked along the road and he agreed to bump me up the remaining 3 miles to the top.

Looking down from where I came

Looking up - Hmmmmm, looks steep

Looking down on some of the switchbacks I missed by taking a bump.

From there I rode through the town of Flagstaff with gorgeous weather (sunshine and comfortable temperatures) and on to the Hwy, 40 freeway. There was a slight tailwind, and the road drops about 1500' to Winslow, so the pedaling was not too bad, going 19-22 mph with not much effort.

There was construction, so Brian and I got bumped 4 miles ahead to the SAG stop at 86.9 miles. From there, Brian and I headed out to finish a good day. However, 17 miles from the finish, I had a flat tire, caused by a tiny piece of steel wire from a steel belted radial tire. I put a new tube in, but it did not hold air. Judy, a team member, came by with a van, and in frustration I rode the rest of the way into Winslow - complete with the "Standing on the corner . . . "

Mike and Karen "Standing...."

So, I did not ride 45 of the planned 109 miles, for a net of 64 miles ridden. I have to view this as another training day, through beautiful country and good riding - just not what I expected I would be doing.

Along the way, we passed the turn off to the Meteor Crater, which people have described as "a big hole in the ground" 570' deep, created about 50,000 years ago during the Pleistocene epoch.

I will have to see how I do tomorrow, but I doubt I will complete the  entire: Day 6: Friday, April 22 - Winslow, AZ to Gallup, NM 134 miles for the day, 3,400' of climbing. But, as I said above I will do what I can do, enjoy the ride, and improve as a cyclist.

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For our ride leader's (Mike Monk) version of today's ride, go here.