Long ago.... in an apartment far far away. I walked up a hill to see the distant Blue Mountain. I had to conquer it. I began with my lifelong road bike. Now its age was in the double digits. Though I had taken care of every last thing on it, metal only lasts so long. I set out through the neighborhoods following the route I had mapped. Reached the base looked up the 1200 foot mountain. The road ran a bit steeply into the state forest up a switch back. I pedaled as hard as I could. I took off up the small road. House after house went by. Each one I had to pedal harder just to keep moving. The last housed passed by slowly. Until I heard a loud clank came from my crankset, the pedals shifted to the right and grinded. There was no continuing. Anything more then light pressure made the bearings grind.
Dreams dashed. I began to disassemble the crankset. I could feel the crankset loosely moving back and forth as I unscrewed the pedals. I removed the adjustable cone. As the bearings fell Out I could see the tragedy in the bracket cups with one split circling nearly all the way round. The metal had a visible dent in it where the bearings had dug a groove into the cup. The steepness of the hill and the power of my legs had caused the fatal damage.
I let the bike lie their in pieces. I stared in sadness, Blue Moutain had taken its first victim.
Picked up my keys. Hopped in the car and went to buy what I was certain would be its next. I found a huffy 10 speed mountain bike for a mere $99. Threw it in the back of the GEO with plenty of room to spare. Took her home. Thoroughly checked her out. Lubed her up. Took her outside and mopped on, tearing down the road to give it one more try. With adrenaline pumping through my legs, I ripped through the neighborhood back to the base of Blue Mountain. House by house slowly passing by as I road up the switch back. Until finally... No more switch back. Just a straight road up the mountain. Single lane, yellow NO WINTER MAINTENANCE signs paralleling the road. Of course I ground to a halt as the grade increased to an impossible slope.
Defeated once again.
Days later I got the map out and looked for what all Pennsylvania Appalachians know. there is almost always a switchback. I found the switchback on Lambs Gap Rd on the far side of the mountain. I hopped on my next life partner bike and headed out. I took surface roads heading for the Susquehanna, North on Riverside road to rt 850. Then straight on to Lambs Gap Road where only pain will be found. I arrived at the bottom of the mountain. As I expected the switch back went back and forth about 5 times. At the first and second switch I stopped to rest. Legs burning and barely able to raise them to get off. I looked down the mountain at the pine trees thinking to myself, If I go off the road and fall down the mountain, there is nothing but pine trees to hit on the way down." From behind me I could hear it coming. My guardian angel in the shape of a bumble bee. He buzzed by my ear, striking fear into me. I rushed to my bike, hopped on. Struggling to get going while swatting the bee away. Eventually I got a decent distance from him. Every time I started gasping and slowing down. He would buzz my ear to inspire me to go faster. Eventually I crested the hill and saw the trailhead. I coasted into the trailhead parking lot to take a rest.
In reality it took me 3 attempts to get all the way up the switch back. At least 1 bee to attack me each time. While the down hill parts were very relieving. Each switch meant I had to go from 40 some mph to about 0 to make the 180° turn on the switch. The last switch was so gratifying. No more switches and all the pine trees dropped the temp so much. It was like riding into an air conditioned room. Followed by the defeated trip back to the apartment.
On the third attempt I finally made it. Standing in the parking lot, sweat dripping profusely from every pour on my body, I walked few laps to dry off. I hadn't yet learned to bring a water bottle with me. I could only get a few drinks of the water using my cupped hands before I decided to finish the ride. Hopped on the bike, made the left out of the parking lot. I tried to begin my descent, but as I got close enough to see just what I was in for. I slammed the brakes. Looking down the road I felt exactly like I was in the front seat of a 1000 foot roller coaster looking down the tracks.
I'd like to say I was brave enough to have gone that first time. I was terrified. I crested the mountain 2 more times. By that 3rd attempt the hill didn't seem so bad.
Boy was I wrong.
Staring down the road, I SHOULD have said a prayer. I pushed off, pedaled twice, and shot down the mountain. Immediately squeezing the brakes as hard as I could. Speedometer shooting through 10 miles at a time till around 40 it started to slow. 41,43,48, 49.5, I was staring at the speedometer too long. I glanced at my knuckles, completely white. I was holding on for dear life. All I could do was focus on the road. The "NO WINTER MAINTENANCE" signs whipped by. Each at a different angle like they were wobbling. Then I looked down at their base and the edge of the road. It was more like a NO MAINTENANCE road. Huge chunks of the edge of the road had fallen off the edge of the road. Then I saw my tires. Occasionally flashing by a huge missing chunk of the road. In my mind I kept looping through a vision of blowing out a tire and careening into a pine tree after tree, after tree, as I rag dolled down the mountain. I regained my composure and ever so carefully edged to the safer middle of the road. Praying no one was coming up the hill.
Fortunately going 40+ miles an hour eats up the 1,200 ft height of the mountain pretty quick. The grade lessened a bit and I started to slow... a bit. Rushing at me at 30+ mph was the the beginning of the last switchbacks going down the mountain. I started to swerve back and forth trying to eat up my speed. That got me just slow enough to make the turn. I swerved to the left side of the road before hitting the switch, trying to take a wide turn. It was just enough. After that first switch I was going slow enough to calm down and easily navigate to the final stretch at the bottom.
The rest of the ride back to my apartment was downright boring.
I rode that same ride nearly every day taking over 2 and a half hours for the next 2 months. Worst that happened was a flat tire at the bottom of the hill. Which was the only biking tragedy I was prepared for. I got my second industry job in Columbus Ohio and moved to Clinton township. Never to see that wonderful mountain again.
Goodbye Blue Mountain.
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