The last time I rode my bike up a mountain was almost twenty years ago. That is, until today when I took on the eight miles of Mount Greylock.
I have to admit that I was a little nervous before setting off on my ride, since hills have been my nemesis this year. But I’ve been wondering what it might be like to do some mountain riding in a few of the national parks in the West. So I decided to give into Greylock’s siren call.
When I arrived at the state park visitors’ center in Lanesborough, I found the road over the mountain closed due to Friday’s snow. The volunteer at the center told me I could go up — “We’re probably going to open the road at noon, anyway” — and he showed me the “tricky” spots on the map. Evidently it hadn’t snowed very much, but the concessioners closing the lodge at the summit packed the little bit which did fall, turning it into small icy patches. Yesterday was warm, and today was supposed to be even warmer, so I decided to try it out.
An hour later, I arrived at the top and had the summit all to myself — except for the dozen-or-so University of Rhode Island students who were on a weekend backpacking trip, as well as a few concessioners who passed me on the way up in a U-Haul truck at the slushiest part of the climb (of course). I wish that every ride could be on closed roads, since it’s fun to ride down the middle of the road and even cross-over to the “oncoming” lane to avoid a “tricky” spot.
The ride really wasn’t that bad. There were about a half-dozen icy spots in thin strips that I could almost completely avoid. In fact, there was no snow anywhere, except at the very tippy-top. And I had plenty of energy, and it felt easy, although I spent a lot of time in my wussy lowest gear just because I could.
(I couldn’t help thinking of Errol Morris’s recent series of articles about a controversial photo of the dust bowl when I took this picture.)
There was one other guy at the top: the mayor of NIMBY-town. I passed him as he ran up, and at the summit he told all of the URI students to oppose the “Wind Energy Siting Reform Act.” It (allegedly) would change the law to make it easier for the Commonwealth to permit wind power, making it not subject (they say) to the by-laws of local jurisdictions. (We have 351 of these, you might recall.) And on the way down, as I passed him again, he ran to catch up with me while I negotiated the trickiest icy patch. I told him I would look at his group’s grassroots website. Personally, I’m with the URI kid who, when the runner had gone out of ear-shot, said, “I like windmills.”
Free of distractions, I picked my way down over the terrain I just covered. One of the best things about riding up a mountain is riding down it again. Preferably at a fast pace. Because of the slushy parts, I couldn’t really do that for the first half. But, even though I’m certain that I didn’t touch 50 MPH like the last time I rode down a mountain, those last four miles didn’t take very long at all.