A Whole Lotta Lovely!: Ride and Links

One of the great things about living in Taichung, is the close proximity to the hills. Taichung allows the rider innumerable combinations of hilly routes that sit right above the city. Unlike some other areas of Taiwan, most of these routes offer up the climbs and the scenery, without ever having to backtrack on the way home.



I have done this route dozens of times but it never feels old. I might... but the route never does. This time out I was testing some equipment for a future post and project, and there is no better testing ground that the mixture of high velocity descents, tight corners, distance and heart stopping climbs.

I normally would post on this route as I have so many times in the past, but there is something to be said of the sensation of descending on a well built titanium bike not everyone understands. It allows you to use your hips to fling the bike into the corners as you stomp the outside pedal. It is wonderfully reactive to rider input.

Then, while climbing over the dreaded 136, my body told me to do this route much more often and get used to the heat. The cramps hit like firecrackers. It was a lovely Saturday on the bicycle and it was the type of ride that keeps me scheming for the next adventure.  



Links:

• Over the weekend, Taiwan's Huang Ting-ying on the Women's circuit, took the opening stage of the Tour of Chongming Island in Shanghai. It is remarkable that these incredible Taiwanese cyclists such as Huang and Hsiao Mei-yu and Sally Wang, among others, have been able to accomplish so much in the sport while viewing their bicycles as accessories, like handbags.

• Joshua Samuel Brown has a lengthy piece on how he sees the development of Taiwan's bicycle culture. Lots of familiar tropes and some baffling remarks.

As goes Taipei, so goes Taichung, with other cities around Taiwan following suit. And as go the big cities, so go the smaller towns around Taiwan, thousands of them connected by bicycle-friendly roads, and in many cases dedicated cycling paths.

Readers can assess this one.   

Nathan's Ninety-nine Peaks: Trails of Treachery

I just had my fit reworked two weeks ago, and I have been cautiously testing my legs against the stresses of cycling. Each ride has been incrementally longer than the last, but each has also ended with my knee feeling a bit sore or on the verge of flaring up. Last Sunday I logged 90km of light climbing, but my knee started to become sensitive at the halfway point. Things are improving, but I need time and patience to let my knee realign. 

Therefore, I was a bit surprised with myself for accepting an invitation from Natan Miller, one of Taiwan's most prolific and dedicated cyclists. 

Nathan, an instructor at Asia Pacific University in Wufeng, has spent the semester riding and mapping out the bramble of farm roads in the hills above Wufeng. Taiwan's farm trails are often hastily laid tracks of asphalt with a minimal commitment of road engineering. They simply follow the landscape as the capillaries of a greater network to draw small crops of produce from the hills of family farms. The foothills of central Taiwan are a labyrinth of false starts dead ends that can lead a rider far from water, phone coverage or rescue if something goes horribly wrong. I was aware of this route, but I never felt I was in a position to take the risk. 

With Nathan's lead, I was curious enough to go. From the beginning I had planned to head home from the Hi Life on the Route 136. My other policy was to stop the ride as soon as my knee hurt. Honestly, I wasn't expecting to make it over the first climb before heading for home. 



The group was a collection of some of the most prolific riders of the greater Taichung area; a mob whose members have all gained some form of recognition or infamy on the bike. 

Nathan knew the way and he was ready to test out his disc equipped Culprit Croz Blade. Nathan is the most wonderful person to ride with. He is a hell of a nice guy. 

Crazy Lenny decided to show up on a Chris Boardman TT bike; the most unusual choice for a day of climbing and uneven pavement. 



Local hard man and Stravaneer, Rob King was on hand. 



Dom made an appearance rocking his steel Seven. 



Cameron Miller brought his Croz Blade out as well. Simon made a showing to teach the group how to climb a hill. Rounding out the group was Iron Mike (Brass Balled Mike); a man with grit, resolve and determination. Mike is just getting into cycling, but he always shows up for the Main Event ready to take his lumps, learn something and get that much better. The man is a fighter. 

Then there was myself, the weakest link in the group wracked by fitness robbing injuries and rehab assignments. A couple years ago I may have led the whole parade, but this time  I was happy just to be within shouting distance of the lead. 



We pulled away from Nathan's 7-11 at late past eight. I was scared. I really didn't know what to expect from my body. I worried I would pull up lame in the middle of the jungle and have to hike out or delay everyone as they waited for me to gimp along to the top of the next hill. Nathan made it sound easy, so I believed him. 



We made cycling small talk and razzed each other through some early dips and rises. Moisture was being pulled from the forest and sticky to my skin like a suffocating layer of cellophane. 

We swung into the first serious climb. I felt comparatively good for the amount of training I have had over the past couple of months. With a blog post in mind, I convinced myself to take a few pictures as the rest of the gang disappeared around the bend. Bagua Shan mad a brief appearance in the distance across the Wu River and I was cautiously tickled that I had made it to the top. 



I was in awe of Lenny's bike prowess as he threw that TT bike skyward. 



Nathan promised a brak at the top, and I was more than ready to indulge. 



Like mana from the sky, we were more than happy to allow a few Lychee to fall from the trees and into our hands. A little boost of sugar to kick the body into gear. 



Before recovery could wash over the legs Nathan ushered us over the hill on a ripping descent on some serious grades. For me this was the point of no return. This is where I had foolishly committed to climbing out the other side on the Route 136. It was impossible for me to back track. It was impossible to even direct a rescue by car. The only way out was by bike. 



We hit a few washed out sections of road and I did my best cyclocross (psycho-cross) imitation to scramble out of the mud. 



The road clung to a rolling valley hemmed in on all sides by towering walls of chalky cliff sides, draped in the greenest color of plant life imaginable.



The trees gave us some welcome cover from the unbearable burn of the summer sun throbbing down on us with every heartbeat. 



I was too slow to get what must have been a spectacular picture of our group blasting through the guts of a long narrow trench coated in green. 



We stopped for one final rest before the finale. Nathan mapped out our final climb, describing some sections as 40% grades. When we finally launched up the ramp, I decided to play it safe and I dismounted as soon as my rear tire lost its grip on the thin layer of moss, which coated large sections of roadway. A few times during the ride I felt fortunate enough to have made it that far without pain, I wasn't about to tempt fate. I was powering up hills far beyond by limits three days prior and I was ready to simply take my winnings to the bank. 



The initial straight climb finally gave us a switchback to chew on and I was able to put my weight back and make the climb. As I rounded the bend, Lenny was on the side of the road with a nasty puncture. Dom and Rob were with him, so after offering one more set of hands, I continued to the top. 



From the high point in the road, the seismic violence that created the Ninety-nine peaks shows itself through the jagged corners and angles poking through the carpet of jungle.  



I had never really thought there was a road through the area, but it was evident that I was resting right in the northern shoulder of this geologic monument. 



Nathan gave us our orders for the descent: 

"Go slow... single file... so you don't take anyone out with you if you fall. It's really slick and rough in there. I mean it." 

He wasn't kidding. The forest primeval had us all spooked, like the cycling equivalent of a herd of antelope fearful of a lurking collarbone snap or femur break. This was for experienced riders only. You need to know how to balance, how to unclip, and how to fall. 



In a break in the trees I could look out over the tucked and folded earthscape at a few drifting clouds tinged with a hint of grey. Taiwan's summertime weather is as unpredictable as it is unstable. A rain squall can quickly vault the mountains and turn a difficult ride into a disaster.  



I rode down the remainder of the road and passed Lenny who was again hobbled by another flat. 



When we all met at the bottom of the hill, a far off rumble of thunder sent us all scanning the sky for rain. We hung out with the local dogs as Lenny fixed his damaged tire with a gel wrapper to help seal the wide-mouth rip in his sidewall.



One by one we hopped the lip to the Route 136 and dug for speed toward the Hi Life, where badly needed refreshments were waiting. 



The original plan had been to continue on to Sun Moon Lake via the Nantou Route 147. I had always planned to head home, but I was quickly joined by a few more volunteers. Only Nathan, Cameron and Simon pointed their wheels further up the road. The rest of us beat it back toward Taichung. 

I was already happy with my results on the day, and therefore, I was not so keen on clinging to Lenny's wheel. Later on I wished I had stuck with the group as a wall of wind and water was looming in the immediate distance. I hoped to outrun it to Taichung, but the alternate route I was on veered back toward the rain. 



The system seemed to build up out of nowhere. A swirling black thunderhead brought its full weight down upon the area. The temple flags that had been steadily blowing one direction were blasted the opposite. Just as the first drops started to fall, I made it to the safety of a 7-11. 



In a sudden blast of swirling atmospheric violence, the storm moved through the area. And then it was gone. 

Over the course of a cup of coffee, the storm had blown out and I was on my way at a faster clip home. I didn't want to be drenched in another wave. 

For me, it was a magnificent day on the bike for the fact that I was again able to feel moments of myself shining through. It made me hungrier for more. 

I really have to thank Nathan for the invite and the persistence in prodding me to go. It was a truly memorable day with a fun group of guys. 

Time Out for Training: Preemptive Cycling on the 136

As a cyclist and as a lifelong athlete, I must first admit that I am addicted to improvement. I love seeing the results of hard work pay off in the form of surprise. Maybe I am simply addicted to surprise-- the satisfaction of reflecting back on a moment when I could say, "wow!"

As a right brained individual, sometimes the focus on the bigger picture overshadows the details and organization needed to achieve those grand mountaintop moments.

Before cycling, I was a wrestler (and a pretty good one at that), and I did regular weight training that, in as twisted a way as possible, sought to maximize strength while limiting mass and its associated weight.  The result was a 54kg frame benching 7x7 at 110kg. If, for any purpose at all, to win any battle of schoolyard one-upmanship with the "well, how much can you bench" argument.

With weight training, if you can lift X weight, you then reach for another iron plate and see if you can lift more. Once one numeric goal is satisfied, there is always another kg to lift.

With cycling, this is not always the case.

Sometimes you need to make the conscious decision to do less if you want to do more.

After two weekends in a row filled with some pretty intense riding, and no training rides between, I decided the next best step would be to pull back in the name of my overall health and work on a more targeted approach to my training regimen.

With unstable weather haunting Taichung, a short morning ride up the Route 136 made perfect sense.

My goal was to work on quick, sustained attacks on the steeper sections, as well as managing my muscles for recovery.

This was a different approach than simply adding another punishing, gargantuan ride to top my last one. I would not be stacking another plate on the bar.

In the past I have pushed myself to tackle longer, greater and harder climbs in succession, and the results were predictable. Over use injuries. My hip flexors and hamstrings could not keep up.

Now I am doing more pre-ride exercises as well as planning my rides with my long-term health in mind.

As I approached the hills, a light mist turned to a drizzle and I used the weather as an excuse to add a little needed coffee to my energy stores.






Soon the rain drifted away and the hills were cloaked in a thin veil of fog.

The lead up was much easier than I remembered. I spun at a pretty good clip to the point I had to remember it was an incline.



What makes the Route 136 such an ideal route for winter hill training, is that it is not only close to Taichung in case the weather turns sour, but it also offers up a variety of ramps and grades that a rider can use to best tailor to a workout.

I burned too many matches on a fierce attack on the lower section, and thus found it ironically amusing to find myself passing a statue of a lone digit sticking up from a driveway.

In essence, the 136 was giving me the finger.



 I finally found my legs again and scrambled to the top where a few other riders were regrouping or waiting for their fallen comrades who had dismounted somewhere below.



For what had started out as a messy morning, the weather had greatly improved with clear skies over the hills and most of the nasty drizzle sweeping over some friends  riding Baguashan to the south.






Last week my climbing was pretty solid for a day of medium ramps; or as solid as I could hope to ride considering my year of setbacks.


This week the legs, still pretty tired from Sanlinxi, fared much worse of the opening grade not far beyond the Bat Cave. If lastweek had been a smoldering slow burn, this week the glycogen in by legs had been replaced with nitroglycerin. Once I lit the match on the ascent, there was a sudden burst of power... and then an eerie silence.



This getting my climbing form back is going to take some time.

The great thing was to be sitting at the top of the Route 136 basking in the warm sunlight on a brilliant morning in mid-January.

I sat up there for a while looking at riders come and go. Couples arrived on scooters to take pictures and then disappear over the ridge. The only thing that really spoils the place is all of the trash left by fellow visitors. It is one of the worst parts about riding a road that is so popular with so many local cyclists. You have to deal with their temporary personal monuments of plastic, paper and other consumer materials.

As I launched myself back toward home, I kept trying to remind myself that I had not wasted a sunny riding day on a little jaunt up the 136 instead of a trophy ride into newer, further areas. When the sun is out, it is best to use it.

Sometimes a little training ride can offer just a taste of the exotic.

Racing the Rainclouds: Unfinished Business on Route 136

My health and fitness is coming back and I am gradually edging toward the form I was in last year before my injury. I had almost a week off the bike due to scheduling and weather, so I was rested enough to try the loop between the Taichung Route 129 and the venerable 136. If I am going to hurt myself, this is the route I seem to do it on. 



I had planned to take off at 6:00am, but with a baby that didn't want to go to bed, it was more like 8:00am that I finally put the wheels on the road. I saw the beautiful sunshine out my window and, in the drunkenness of sleep, thought to myself that it would be a beautiful day, so I needn't worry about the weather. 

I had just sent my bike to the shop to have all the bearings re-greased and everything washed up after my misadventures in the mud. The bike was just rolling smooth as could be. I climbed the Dongshan Rd. (Rte. 129) with much less effort than last time, testing smaller and smaller cogs.  



With the bike's smoothness and my own fitness, I was almost bored with the ease I was feeling. I stopped once for a coffee and once to stretch my legs before the climbing to avoid another injury. 



Once the climbing commenced, I surprised myself with my smooth, even cadence and steady speed. Just as I started up Baimao Shan on the Highway 21, I smashed headlong into a mass of cool air. At first it was a refreshing respite from the mid-morning humidity. Then I saw the dark clouds leading an advancing system of rain. 



As I looked out over the valley, I wondered how my friend Dom was faring on his climb up Da Xue Shan. From the looks of things the route was soon to be swallowed up by the gloom. 



I silently cursed my decision to reset my alarm and made hay for the 136 with vivid memories of getting stuck near the top during a violent rain shower. I would do it and accept the consequences. 

Luckily, it looked as if the area near the Route 136 was enjoying some clear skies. I tried to make time over a line of cars off the mountain, but as a sprinkle of rain slapped across my nose, I was locked behind a caravan of vehicles too fast to pass and too slow to keep me from riding the brakes. 



I had made it out to Guoxing and toward the Hi Life at the base of the Route 136. 

As I was descending, I noticed my shifting was getting sloppy. I would downshift and nothing would happen It would take a couple tries to shift the chain to a new cog. The chain would jump cogs and I noticed I was spinning out with two unused cogs at the end of the cassette. I used to experience this all the time with my Shimano Ultegra, but with Campy it was an entirely new experience. I kept wondering why my gear was behaving like Shimano. I fiddled with the barrel adjusters as well as I could, which seemed to work for a couple minutes. I figured I would do my best to get over the 136 with sloppy shifting and have it looked at when I got back to Taichung. 

I never had the chance. As I attacked the lower reaches of the 136, I tried to snap into an easier gear, and instead, the chain slid on down the line to the smallest cog... and stayed there. 

I noticed the derailleur cable looked a little loose, so I took out my multitool and attempted to pull it a bit tighter. I pulled and pulled and pulled as I was presented with more and more cable. 

The cable had snapped up near the shifter. 

It was time to call for a rescue and put this ride on the list of unfinished business.