… but I did it. I rode my bike up the road to Mt. Seymour last summer. Yahoo!!
It took me 1:50 to get up there … and less than 15 minutes to fly down. It’s about 800 metres of climbing in around 11 kilometres. It’s harsh! The first 3km are probably the hardest. The problem is parking at the bottom and then starting to climb right away, without a decent warm up. Next time I’ll definitely go ride something more or less flat for 15 or 20 minutes before I start the climb.
Right off the bat, you’re at an 8 or 9% climb which is rough on legs that are still warming up. By the time I got to the first trail head I had to pull over to catch my breath and ponder what the heck I thought I was doing. Of course the markers torment you all the way with distance and elevation … 0km 111m, 1km 196m, 2km 270m, 3km 360m, 4km 440m, 5km 510m, 6km 596m …. and on and on. The mind is a rather silly thing: for one, it remember these numbers, and then, in only a few minutes you catch your breath, and suddenly you believe again that you should keep going. In my mind I was thinking if I could just get to the 5k mark, which is about where the picnic area is.
Unlike the Cypress climb, which levels off through the switchbacks, Mt. Seymour winds up relentlessly. The incline does appear to ease in some places based on my cadence actually going up to 60rpm for a few minutes in some spots. Mostly I was hovering around 47rpm – yes, in my granny gear!! I passed the 5k mark and saw the turn off for the picnic area ahead. If I could just get there, I could at least feel that I had climbed half way. When I got there, I pulled over again to catch my breath .. and again … my oxygen deprived brain reasoned that I should keep going, so off I went once more.
Along the way I saw a little skunk sniffing around in the grass at the side of the road and two young deer. Both had velvety stubs where antlers were beginning to emerge. They were so close and if I thought I stood any chance of be able to clip in on that incline, I would have stopped to take a picture. Had I stopped, it would have been impossible for me to get going again on such a steep incline, and clipping in again would have been a huge endeavour. So I enjoyed the sight of them and continued on. Further along I saw a bird that glared at me from the side of the road. It was the size of a crow, black, with a fanned tail and odd bulbous mounds on the side of its body. It hooted like an owl as it stood there motionless.
The only way I can persevere on tough climbs like this is to only think about the next bend in the road. If I just get there, I’ll reassess the situation is usually my train of thought. Until then all I can do is pull-push-pull-push. I think of nothing other than the pedal strokes that will carry me to the next bend. At the next bend I want to peek around the corner to see what lays ahead. Of course its just more rising pavement, but somewhere between the monotony of the action and my ego, or my competitiveness, or my fear of failure, I don’t know which is the overriding factor, I keep going.
Once I got to the Deep Cove lookout, it levelled off just enough around that switchback, that my heart rate came down enough to convince me to keep going. I knew the final switchback could not be far away, so I kept going. Earlier I had reasoned that I would keep riding until I reached 1:30 on the clock. By the time I reached the final switchback, my time was creeping towards 1:44 but felt like I was so close there was no way I was giving up at that point.
Around one more bend, and then I saw the sign for the tobogganing area parking lot. If I wasn’t so exhausted, I think I would have been happy. Getting off my bike at the very top I started to feel the elation of having overcome a challenge that I was too afraid to take on a year ago. The clock stood at 1:50. I didn’t even care; I was so happy about having ridden my bike up the Mt. Seymour road.
Then came the fun part! I got back on my bike and headed towards the descent. I quickly flipped up to my speedy gears and let her rip. As this was my first descent on that road, I was a bit cautious on the unfamiliar pavement, but still got up to 67kph on the straights. Flying down a 13km road at 7 or 8%, you need to really hunker down and focus on the ride. I lifted my bum off the seat, leveled my pedals and savored every second of the 15 minute ride down. Fifteen minutes of sheer delight, buoyed by a sense of accomplishment, ended back in the parking lot.
What a fabulous way to spend a Tuesday evening!!
