Jim's photos at Picasa

Two yellow wind breakers sweep out the curve ahead along the guardrail. Jim and I are catching them slowly along with two other riders. The descent is gentler here and while we needn't pedal, it feels good to work the legs.

We've been descending for many miles through woods "lovely, dark, and deep." Snowy crags jut into blue sky above stands of pine and fir. Over the guardrail I'm conscious of a forested valley. The road is smooth, without potholes, and recently swept by the DOT just for the Native Planet Classic event.

The event is classic not because it is old. This is the second year and veterans have plenty of stories to tell of rain and cold. Many accepted sags to prevent hypothermia last year.

Native Planet is a charity supporting indigenous peoples around the world. It was founded by Jean-Philippe Soule who organized this ride the North Cascades of Washington State as a fund raiser. Predictably most of the riders are from Washington and most of those from the west side. Jim and I are likely the riders who've traveled farthest.

That will change. This ride has all the elements to make it a real classic. In fact Native Planet sponsors a European ride in the Pyrenees over some of the course of the Tour de France. How more classic can you get?

Jean-Philippe also arranged for several long and steep training rides just to make sure classic riders would be ready. "We just did back to back centuries," I told him. "I think we are ready."

Ready meant not only distance but climbing. The ride is classic for its distance, its difficulty, its climbing and its beauty. At 127 miles, it may not match a RAMROD or a RAPSODY or any double century for distance, but its 10,400 feet of climbing put it in the top ranks of road rides. Jeane-Philippe did a check-out ride over the course with a GPS device which showed over 10,900 feet.

But it isn't even the total elevation gained that distinguishes this course. The final ascents of Washington Pass on each side are three miles of 7 to 9 percent climbing that deserve respect alone. The real challenge, however, is the 10 to 20 miles of steady climbing that precede each of those ascents.

The engineers did a great job of keeping the incline manageable but they were thinking of automobiles not cyclists whose legs might need a break more frequently than every 10 miles.

That's what cameras are for. Photo opportunities abound but I called for several that had nothing to do with wanting to take a picture. Jim called for a couple himself, but he was just being nice.

Long vistas expanded into the forested distance showing a ribbon of road with gentle curves unlike the sharp switchbacks of most mountain roads. Beautiful but discouraging if you are climbing on a bicycle.

"Let's take a break," Jim calls out as we round a bend revealing one of those long ascents that starts gently but seems to have a kink where some giant has placed his foot bending the upper slope to an unnatural angle.

It's warm now. The 20% chance of rain amounted to only a few drops near Colonial Creek, the turn around point. We've been climbing for 20 miles already. The rise in front of us will take us over Rainy Pass where we'll have only a short descent before tackling that difficult three miles to Washington Pass.

"Any time you want, Jim." I'm more than happy to stop and would have called for the break myself but I'm still processing the coming climb.

"Where's that sag?" I want to know. Had a sag driver asked me twice, I'd have probably let Jim ride Washington Pass on his own. "I'm thinking long river valley rides from now on," I told Jim later. The Trail of the Coeyr d'Alenes sounds pretty good to me now. In the absence of sag I had no choice but to climb. Jim finally got tired of tagging behind. So I was also treated to the site of Jim pedaling off up the hill. I couldn't stay with him on a grade this steep. "I'll get you on the rollers."

It wasn't always warm today. It's hard to get a forecast for the North Cascades. No weather station; no communities. The lean, hard racer types with the high power to weight ratio's had stuffed their pockets with jackets and arm warmers. Jim and I opted for bulky, uncool, handlebar bags. "Jim, I"m going to have to stop to put on my rain jacket," I said as we coasted the first couple of hundred feet west down Washington Pass.

I had rolled down the arm warmers on the climb but at the top I pulled them up and put on my windbreaker. A cool breeze blew off snow capped peaks chilling me until I felt a shiver. I should have taken a shot of coffee. (Yeah, coffee. It was a Seattle based ride after all.) I should have stayed in camp. The shiver became a shake which translated to my bike frame. Already nervous about fast descents, three miles of shivering was going to be painful. I thought I'd put my rain jacket on over my wind-breaker just so I could have another layer. I dug to the bottom of that uncool bag confident that I had carefully packed rain gear. I had. Two pair of rain pants--no jacket. I was going to be in trouble if we got rain. Always remember to actually look inside those little bags.

I survived the cold descent swearing off mountain rides on the way. Fortunately the sun was out and we had a steep though short climb up to Rainy Pass. I warmed up and never shivered again except when I think about it. I wasn't alone. Other riders felt the chill too.

Though we had the uncool bags, Jim and I didn't do too badly among the high power-to-weight ratio types who were attracted to this ride. We weren't last. We left Winthrop at 6 in the morning and got back at 5:05 in the afternoon. My computer reports 9 hours and 24 minutes of riding time. At the top of Washington Pass for the second time, we felt right at home with other cyclists sitting on the warm asphalt and wishing we could take a nap instead of 30 more miles of riding.

We didn't see many cyclists who were not on our ride. Lots of bikes, but for some reason they all seemed to be on cars. The bikes we saw on the road were all tourists. Friday night in Winthrop we visited the local bike shop and found three women on fully loaded bikes. They had just come over the pass we would be riding twice the next day. Jim asked them several touring questions before he noticed one of them had only a double crank. I guess what we did on Saturday wasn't so tough after all.