My First Bike Tour: White’s Hill
Five years ago, I pedaled a bicycle from California to New York with almost zero prior cycling experience. Here is an excerpt from my third day of pedaling from San Francisco to Petaluma, CA with my best friend, Ale, and my dad, Wayne.
White’s hill
As White’s Hill approached, I started to widen the gap between my dad and Ale. Since my lowest gear was about two gears higher than Ale’s lowest gear, which was about two gears higher than my dad’s lowest gear, they both could spin faster with less effort up large hills. The only benefit to riding in a higher gear is that you are forced to go faster, since one rotation will carry you further (but it requires more power). Pick your battles. And if your battle happens to be this one, trust me, lower gears with slower climbing is the way to go. I know this now.
I had been told by cycling experts and touring friends to add a third chain ring on my bike setup, so that I could more easily take on steep grades. Unfortunately, I never climbed enough (any) hills with baggage (100 lbs to be exact) to know the benefits of adding another ring. I was also feeling pretty confident with my climbing ability on two rings with no baggage, so I opted out of the effort / money to add another ring. Whoopsie daisy.
My legs began trembling about half way up White’s Hill, and if it weren’t for the clip in pedals, I’m pretty sure I would have fallen off the bike. I used my entire body to pull and push side to side to propel myself (and my house on wheels) up the hill at blistering 4mph. I felt the powerful sun beating down on my entire body and could feel my endurance and energy melt away. I grew weaker and weaker with every pedal stroke and soon my whole body was shaking with fatigue. I alternated standing and sitting in my saddle and counted each pedal to reassure myself that I was still moving. I would pick a spot on the side of the road to try and reach before giving up, and then once I reached it, I would pick a new spot. I contemplated stopping, but knew there was no way I would be able to start up again on a grade that steep, so I pushed on. I looked down at my tanned red forearms and saw individual beads of sweat ooze out of each tiny pore growing and combining with others to form a droplet that rolled slowly then quickly down my arm, splattering on the pavement below. I thought about the amazing cooling system human bodies are capable of performing at times of need. I then began to think about human bodies in general, and all that they are capable of accomplishing. This spiraled into thinking about what drives the machine and how much thought controls the outcome. Mind over matter. That is when I decided, there was no way in hell I was getting off my bike. I picked up my spin speed and allowed my breathing to get faster and louder. “I am going climb this mother if it’s the last thing I do,” I whispered to myself.
I made it to the top of White’s Hill swerving all over the shoulder in a state of complete physical exhaustion and dizziness. I almost rode right off the side of the pavement towards a sandy steep drop off, at which point I decided I probably would benefit from water. I reached down with my stronger, more coordinated right hand and grabbed my water bottle. I had to balance myself first by bringing my right wrist back to the handlebars before taking a quick sip from the bottle, almost crashing, steadying myself again, and then returning the bottle back into its holder.
I took a few quick head turns over my left shoulder to see if I could spot Ale and my dad, but they were out of sight. In doing so, I got pretty far into the driving lane and a truck honked aggressively to let me know I was being a bit of an idiot, and I was almost road kill. I said “namaste” to the angry driver and proceeded back into the cycling lane. I decided I would descend and then just coast until my crew caught up. I started picking up speed as White’s Hill turned into White’s Downhill. My eyes gushed streams of tears from the wind, and I felt my clothes begin to dry against my goose bump-covered skin. It still amazes me at how quickly situations can change in cycling. One minute I am sweating at about a liter per minute, as I use my entire body to pull and push myself up an impossible hill. The next I am weightless and flying down at what feels like one hundred miles per hour, freezing my padded ass off in soaking wet clothes.
Headwind mind games
I continued to coast and then ride very slowly until my dad and Ale appeared. They had similar experiences on White’s Hill and were still recovering. Once we acknowledged the difficulty of the hill and all that it involved, we had limited conversation for the next hour of pedaling. No one wanted to waste energy on moving their mouths or making noises. Instead, we relied on cycling sign language — pointing down at the ground to indicate glass or a pothole.
Eventually we came to the next hill which was about twice as long and about 2/3 the grade. We all barely made it up the hill. As we started down the complementary downhill, something intriguing happened. I noticed I did not need to brake, and in fact the wind was so bad that I had to pedal down the hill. This was unfortunate, but not the end of the world, since we had the momentum of the downhill force canceling out the wind. Once the road flattened out, the end of the world happened.
Riding into a headwind for an extended period of time on a loaded bicycle is possibly one of the most mentally and physically challenging things I have ever done in my life. There’s no way to fully explain the implications involved and all the frustration and exhaustion that take over your body and allow you to only focus on the wind and how much you hate it and how you would do anything to have it reverse direction. Luckily, I learned some coping mechanisms and learned to embrace the wind later on in the journey, but at this point I was pretty much just repeating “FML” in my head.
On the bright side, this was a great opportunity to practice drafting, so we stayed close and took turns leading the force. This slow moving windy portion lasted about an hour and half with no words except for the “switch” by the leader who was spent and ready to retire command.
We eventually took a break and downed some chocolate chip muffins my younger sister, Haley, had prepared for us the day before. I had to repeatedly tell myself not to swallow the muffins whole, because I felt like my body was dying and needed calories immediately. It was one of those times where my conscious, intelligent mind was telling me that I was not starving and in fact, I had consumed way more calories than I probably needed. My body, however, was panicking and telling my hands to continue shoving food down my throat because winter was coming and I needed to stock up.
Even after we had each destroyed 4 thick, dense, calorie-packed muffins, we remained silent; nothing was worth taking the energy to talk about.
Hallucinations and soul searching
When we got to the next few climbs, we realized that the hills blocked a large portion of the wind, so we were able to cycle individually again. These climbs felt just as large and significant as White’s Hill, although I know they were slightly shorter. Climbing up and down the hills was quite an emotional (and physical) roller coaster. I would get to the top and be overwhelmed with happiness and pride. I would have visions of my aunt and uncle with a glass of ice cold lemonade waiting at the bottom of the descent, and then I would see the next climb in the distance and feel like Voldemort had sucked the soul out of me. On the bright side, my fear of acquiring too much speed on a downhill faded immediately. Trust me, you will get very comfortable flying down hills if it means you might have a bit more potential energy to work with on the next uphill. Newton’s laws are real people.
Somewhat miraculously, the three of us reunited in the downtown area of Petaluma alive. We took turns recounting our own personal struggles on the hills, as we leaned the entirety of our body weight on our handlebars with shaking fawn-like legs. It was a day to be remembered. Each one of us had our own hallucinations and soul searching moments, and we laughed hysterically at one another until we were ready to proceed. Unfortunately, this was not our destination, so we returned to the bikes with the false hopes of a smooth easy ride to my aunt and uncle’s place.
The last stretch
In case you ever find yourself wondering about the road conditions in Petaluma, California circa summer 2012. Let me just give you an overview: the downtown roads were paved… the rest were gravelly, pot-holed, dusty open strips of land with minimal signage. I took the initiative to name these roads “SBTR’s” — sports bra test roads, because this is their only redeeming quality. They will give you immediate feedback on how well your sports bra supports your girls. They will also abuse your downstairs, and if you are dealing with a bruised pelvic floor and weak legs, the abuse is magnified. To say that we ended the ride with a bang is an understatement. There were multiple bangs, all directed at our nether regions.
We arrived at my relative’s house a little after 6pm (that’s 10 hours from San Francisco to safety). We wobbled up the driveway wearing facial expressions that resembled a botox gone wrong victim. It took all I had to muster a smile and express gratitude towards my Aunt Laurie and Uncle Dave through extreme eye contact, which I now realize probably came across like a horror film character. Words were too hard. Laurie and Dave helped park our bikes in the garage and carried our panniers into the house, as we tried to say “thank you” through mumbles and head nods. I exhaustion-blacked-out the rest of the night, minus the shower.
The shower was close to godliness. The warm water seemed to possess magical healing powers. It flowed over my naked shaky body washing away all the negative lingering dirt and grime plastered to my skin. It was absolutely incredible to witness the benefits of extremely uncomfortable conditions leading to an overwhelming sense of gratitude and appreciation for the small things that go unnoticed in everyday life. There are very few things in this world that surpass a well-deserved shower. I am pretty sure I sobbed through the whole experience, but let’s be honest, I will never know for sure, because the water wiped away my tears along with everything else, and I was way too light headed to trust any memories.
Original trip footage
Check out the GoPro video of the whole trip here.
