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/[email protected]/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.
@Frank
The Idaho State TT championships were the week after my road race victory. I do not fancy TTing so I had no desire to subject myself to that sort of vexation. But my Cat 3 training partner is a TTing fool and felt good about his chances to bring another Championship to our side of the state. He fell short by four seconds. As we commiserated on our Monday Night ride he lamented the thousands of ways he could have not lost that four seconds – his undoing was redlining for too long on the hill at the start of the effort. We came to the conclusion that “If you aren’t winning, you’re learning.”
Oh, btw Frank, nice read and well done. If the Beartooth Pass ride goes off this year please wait for me at the top.
For once I’m in total agreement with Frank – Adilettes should only be worn with cycling socks. In fact, bare feet is just plain wrong.
@frank
Just email me one and I do it.
Socks and Sandals
Around here only Canadians and hipsters wear socks with sandals.
Merckx help me, but each time I look at this page, I think “how can I arrange an assault on this road?” Turns out me and the VMH are planning a february trip to the Big Island that includes our Machines for some touring. If I can figure out how to get to Maui and where to stay there, I might have to point the wheel up this road. Not going to even approach 4 hours; just fnishing will be the plan. Any tips on where to stay on Maui to do this? How to get from Hawaii and back with bike boxes without breaking the bank?
@Cyclops
Great work cyclops – I am very pleased you have revealed the truth, ie. that Frank is the same dimensions as the GC riders.
Always knew you were bullshitting about being 6 foot and plenty Frank.
@King Clydesdale
But they aren’t sandals, they’re Adilettes! No way did Eddy Merckx wear his Adilettes sans socks!
@King Clydesdale
Ahem!
At no other time are socks and sandals permitted, but in observing Rule #69, I do have a pair of beaten up Birks that serve the role of Frank’s Adilettes. This is an old and longstanding practice for me that goes back to my soccer playing days. Teammates always wore the Adilettes (so I tend to associate them with non-cycling activities), and I enjoyed pissing them off with my Birks. So it stuck.
Socks and sandals must be worn pre-ride. It’s one thing to put your shoes on beside the bike; putting your socks on outside is dopey. Things get a little muddy post-ride. While I typically keep my socks on after removing shoes and putting on sandals, I suspect it would be appropriate to remove the socks in order to let your toes breathe, especially if you have cultivated a razor-sharp sock tan line.
@Oli
@Steampunk
Thank you!
G’phant, are you paying any attention at all? You, too, Dr. C. Oli has spoken. So has Steampunk, and I kind of appreciate the Birks thing, but that’s so mountain bike.
@Jeff in PetroMetro
Sorry. I should have kept my mouth shut in order to strengthen your argument. Re. Birks: what can I say? I’m an unreconstructed west coaster.
@Steampunk
Brother of the Cog, no need to apologize. It’s G’phant and Dr C and their blasphemous irreverence for the sacred Adilettes who must be corrected. With 20 hill repeats. Or mini-pumps at dawn.
I don’t know, I guess its fine that way. Personally I always have a pair of cleat covers with me, and when I finish a ride its off with the shoes and socks. I’ll walk around barefoot when practical (which in the Northeast means unless you will burn your feet off. I get the mail barefoot every day in the winter.)
But cleat covers are a genius invention.
I’ll put the shoes on in the car with cleat covers, unload the bike, talk with whoever I’m riding with (if its a group ride), take them off and store them in the jersey, use them if I stop, and put them back on after the shoes come off.
@frank
Epic performance sir. Your suffering is truly an inspiration to us all. It makes we want to go out and climb something, unfortunately I live in South Florida and my next trip to GA isn’t until September.
I really like how The Man with the Hammer is front and center in that cartoon.
He means biz-nass…he’s right up front, he’ll crack you good unless you Obey!
Frank – as I ride out the door on weekend rides and all group rides I shall utter to myself, “Don’t ride like a twat.”
It’s simple, it should work, I hope it does.
Strong work!
So did the guy on the tri bike make it to the top? After that brutal climb did you let gravity do the work and decend back down?
@Jeff in PetroMetro
Word. Where’s that photo of Fabboo? The list of Adilettes users is growing…
Everyone ever at the Wellington Velodrome.
JiPM
Fabboo
Me
Fronk
(In tiny voice cos they’re made of wood – you don’t want to know how brutally loathed Adidas is in NZ at the moment) Steamy.
@minion
Whats the issue with Adidas down there? I personally am a big fan of Solomon shoes (made by Adidas). Some child labor thing or something? Or just a weird Kiwi thing like putting beets on your burgers?
@scaler911
The Kiwis are upset because they can never find “Edides” in the phone book under ‘E’.
@Marcus
Ha!
I kid, but I almost took a job there and was in the process of getting a work visa when the VMH got preggers (like I wasn’t there). That country looks fantastic. Friendly, relaxed, mountains, roads on those mountains, close to the South Pacific Islands. What’s not to like?
@King Clydesdale
No good, unfortunately. There’s more at stake here than cleat wear; walking around like that also stresses the soles unduly, causing them to get soft sooner. Though this is less of an issue with the new carbon soles these days, it’s still a consideration. I walk absolutely as little as I can in my cycling shoes.
Besides the fact that wiping out as you step on a banana peel outside the café is most unPro.
@scaler911
What’s not to like? Well, I won’t go too far, but the short answers are:
1. Its full of New Zealanders.
2. The weather is shit.
3. Its full of Kiwis.
4. Their economy is fucked.
5. They speak funny.
6. They are obsessed with the All Blacks.
@Marcus
Shitty Pinot Noir, up the nose. That’s why we like to keep you around.
@scaler911
Yeah, I know what you mean. I never gave a gnat’s fart about Hawaii, then came here and was just captivated. I hear New Zealand is also Polynesian and in many respects similar.
SOLD, to the skinny fuck with the gland problem!
@scaler911
Well, leaving aside the fact that Beetroot on Hamburger is a mouth orgasm the rest of the world seems to bypass, we are hosting the Rugby World cup here. Adidas is the jersey supplier for the New Zealand team, and they priced them at 220 of our fine New Zealand Dollars. You can buy them online for around NZD120 – 150. When this was pointed out to them they, pardon the Australian, screwed the pooch by refusing to drop the price, and generally acted like arrogant pricks. The great New Zealand public has told them to get fucked.
@Marcus
@frank
Think Polynesia by way of Scotland.
Frank, they’re planning on building a 2000 meter high mountain in the Netherlands. When it’s finished, I’ll finally be able to climb without travelling 2000 kilometers.
Awesome job! And excellent write-up!
A week or so back, I finally tackled the highest climb within riding distance of my homebase in Brooklyn, NY: Bear Mt. – 1270′ in 4.7 miles. Nowhere close to your way HC effort!
It’s a little over 50 miles to the start of the climb with a couple of other ‘bumps’ along the way. It was a muggy day and I was to learn that I wasn’t hydrating enough as my legs started talking to me when the climb pitched up for the last 2 miles. At mile 70 on the return trip, the talking had turned into a full-on scream. A stop, chugging of juice and any other electrolytes I could grab and I was able to recover and finish relatively strongly. My legs continued to grumble discontentedly for a couple of days afterward.
Frank – it seems Ryder Hesjedal has the record: 2:32:51. I say you challenge him head-to-head and crush him.
Thanks from the UK for this Frank.
Same as me lets me know I’m PRO. Also tremendous gratuitous use of the word twat. Its official – you are an honorary Brit.
Same FRAME that should be.
@RedRanger
He did. And he looked really good coming up the last steep bit.
Talked to him afterward; he is training for the Ironman on the big island and had to get the miles in on his TT bike. That’s pretty redeeming for a Triathlete in my book.
@Oli
This is weird, you and I being on the same side. Don’t worry, I’ll post something we can disagree on soon enough and restore balance!
@Frank,
I don’t know what to say other than what has already been heaped upon you. It’s clear from the video that you had the man with the hammer at bay much better this time. My mind still hasn’t got wrapped completely around at just how incredibly hard that ride is/must be.
It’s ride/beer night (or is that beer/ride night?) here and I will hoist a tall frosty one in a toast in your honor and celebration of another outstanding fucking job!!!
I do want to post a public thank you to you and Brett for the help and guidance you both have provided me in the search of that “perfect” (if there is such a thing?) first road racing ride. Cyclopes it was you at 50 that inspired me that at 50 I too can do it. Thank you all.
fasthair
Frank, by “drinking better” I’m curious what your current level of intake is versus what it used to be?
I like to drink after a pedal or other exercise, the problem being that I do one of those every day. Sometimes the VMH protests that I shouldn’t drink so much, even though she acknowledges my consumption would seem quite normal if I were in Europe. I have a few beers after a ride, maybe a few more if we go to a party or I’m out with friends.
Beer is just about the only bad thing I do to my guns, no smoking, eat well, rest well, very little caffeine, etc. I do sometimes wonder if I drank better if I’d ride better.
@Ron
Caffeine is not a bad thing surely?
@Ron
Hard to say what I used to drink, never paid much attention. But suffice to say a beer or two after a ride was a no-brainer. The VMH and I love to cook, and always with wine. (Sometimes we also put some in the food, to quote a chef whose name I don’t recall.) A bottle down while cooking, and then part (or all) of a second bottle with dinner.
In other words, a lot. My vacation of the last two weeks has been a different matter, but I’ve cut out the drinking after riding, and generally try to stick to one drink or none at all over dinner. It’s funny, I’ve found that a lot of my drinking had to do with habit and an OCD desire to consume something. Just pouring a glass of water and sipping that while I cook or have dinner serves much of that purpose.
Stopping drinking helps on several levels. First, alcohol slows your metabolism. Second, it’s loaded with calories, so that’s a double-whammy. Then, it just perpetuates more chemical consumption; in the morning I’ll be more groggy, so I’ll have more coffee. I’ll also probably have a bit of a headache, so I’ll have a pain killer. Cut out the alcohol and your metabolism increases, you consume less calories, you sleep better, drink less caffiene, and put less medication in your body. You can absolutely feel the difference when you ride that you’re fresher and better able to sustain efforts.
That said, I truly love beer, but could live without it. Wine is a different matter; I absolutely cherish the stuff. I’ll never cut booze out entirely. Moderation is the key. Besides, if you cut out and don’t moderate, you’ll likely relapse at some point.
@fasthair
De rien.
@ChrisO
There’s a company that has an entire business model built around breaking Rule #55; they load up a big van with bike and people and drive them up the mountain (I believe to 6,000 feet) and they ride down. That kid, from the looks of his bike, is a client of the Haleakala Bike Company.
The reason he’s stopped is in the terror of the scolding I gave him. The track is muted so you can’t hear it.
@mcsqueak
Ah, the soundtrack is based, of course, on whatever music I’m listening to around the time I do the climb. Also, since it was a “Part Deux”, I figured I should use the same band as before, the Brit group The Heavy. I was also tempted to use Rage again, but given that I was delivering the mail during Ghost on the first one, I thought it wasn’t too fitting to play it again while I was chewing the bars.
I may have to do a mashup of the two vids and show the same bits back-to-back for comparison.
@frank
I’ve never been a coffee drinker. I love the smell of the stuff but have never acquired a taste for it. But for some strange reason on the morning of the State Championship I drank a cup of coffee (I like my coffee like I like my women – ground up in little bags in the freezer). I think I’ll make it a part of my race morning routine.
I never have more than one beer at a time. I might drink two or six perfect margaritas though. And as part of the process of sanctification I’ve taken to sippin’ whiskey and I’m starting to drink wine with dinner every once in a while.
@Minion
Strong work Minion. I live in a city (Auckland) and just two K from my house i can be in serious climbs of 20%, soul crushing TT training flatlands, gorgeous beachside cliff tops. Oh and Gordon Macauley (HardMan ex-PRO) can often be seen shouting abuse at me and any other flabby cyclist out training. The man has gravel for blood i tells ya.
@frank
Aloha again Frank. I was the first asshole who went under 3 hours. The pic is of me on the summit road in the first official “Cycle to the Sun” in 1982 BC (before children). The lousy pic is a snapshot from a 30 min video done on the race. Check the leather hairnet, when I had hair. The bike was a 64 cm Raleigh 753 Team Issue Bike with Campy Record (20 lbs), I got by way of a traveling Euro Pro. I’m 6’0″ and other than the high top tube I dug the geometry and ride. I custom built my own Suntour 7 speed freewheel (13-14-16-19-20-21-22) and used 42/45 front chainrings. I didn’t used the 22 until the summit. Those are Sidi Titaniums and Clement silk crit tires.
Next time you visit, we’ll have to get together and I can give tips on about 10 places on the route where you can lose time. It probably would save you about 10+ minutes. One tip is to learn to ride on the white line (1 mph faster). The other 12+ minutes you need, you are on your own. Maybe more “V”‘s on the road could help. You are right, the grade drops big time from 7,000’ up, but the road surface is not as good as below. You really have to search for the smoothest line from there on up and ride in the drops going into the wind.
I may have missed it, but what was your gearing? What was your F/R tire pressure?
Well done Frank! Laying down the V!
@mauibike
You’re in the big ring there if I’m not mistaken. Nice. And bitchin’ sausage helmet!
@frank
Hey, I know you’re all banged up from your recent exploits in paradise, but I was wondering (for entirely selfish reasons) when the Vuelta VSP was going to be up? I’ma gonna be out of internet service tomorrow through the weekend starting late afternoon (anniversary). I can go for a shortish drive and get it (I will), but wondering about a guestimate?
@mauibike
Good work, I thought you were an aussie. Ditto with Wellington, though instead of breezy pacific sunshine, the weather resembles the image at the head of this post more closely.
@frank
“It’s funny, I’ve found that a lot of my drinking had to do with habit and an OCD desire to consume something. Just pouring a glass of water and sipping that while I cook or have dinner serves much of that purpose.”
I hear ya. We’ve got a soda stream. My beer substitute is to make a big bottle of bubbly water. It fills me up more than still water and “feels” more like beer. I never feel guilty about drinking wine with my meal. And a benefit of cutting back on quantity is you feel justified in increasing quality – same per week expenditure but on half as much wine twice as good. It’s a win/win. Except when you want to get pissed. Bubbly water isn’t very good for that.
@scaler911
I’ll be getting something up in a few hours from….. NOW.
@frank
@G’phant
Go and wash your mouths out… with beer! Can’t believe what I’m hearing here. How dare you speak of “substitutes” for beer. How dare you cut down. How dare you put “performance” before “fun”.
This is, my friends, an outrage!
@mauibike
Note to self-don’t go riding with him