Another Day, another potential soaking! Arose to an overcast morning with an imminence of rain in the air. Our target today – 'Paradise'! (well the Paradise Inn at the foot of Mt Rainier).
It was a biggish day in the saddle: 102km with a lot of climbing, and 3 passes to go over. Well, actually 2 to go over and one to go down to! - A climb of some 640 meters from the Lodge to Chinook Pass, a descent from Chinook of 227 meters to Cayuse Pass, a big descent to 580 meters altitude at our lunchtime stop of the 'Grove of the Patriarchs' in Mt Rainier National Park, and then make all we'd climbed and a bit more (some 1018 meters) to 'Paradise' (cue godly lights and swelling grand music). In all, some 1.6kms of altitude gain – yeehah!
Whilst the day was overcast, it didn't yet have that rain chill in the air, and the general consensus was that it wouldn't rain: hence I put on my warmest gear, but left my rain stuff in the saddle bag.
After a somewhat disorganised brekky – I'm not sure Tuesday was a breakfast day at the Lodge, at least in the minds of resident staff! – the group got organised and slowly trickled out of the Lodge and headed immediately upwards to Chinook Pass some 46 kms up the road. I was last to leave – I'd spied a patch of blue sky heading from the direction we would be travelling and convinced myself it would hang around (I was clearly delusional – why would a patch of blue sky heading my way decide to turn around and follow me from whence it had come?).
Shuffling out, the road began a gentle rise which continued for some time: it was pleasant, cool, the road was smooth and the riding was good. Cloud was around but seemed out of reach, except to the taller mounts that surrounded us on our road – they were whisped by light fluffs:
As I progressed up, the gentle incline didn't present much of a hindrance. I'd decided at the start of the day that I'd do the climb like I normally do – nice and briskly so that when I arrived at the ultimate destination I'd curse myself for not having taken it easier! I don't do much climbing at home, so have no idea what to do – I figure if it isn't hurting like hell, then you aren't going fast enough!
So far I wasn't hurting, and I was chugging along quite nicely. I hadn't got to the 'Road steepens' part of the route map at the 32km mark yet, and indeed the road hadn't (steepened much). I'd slowly trundled past a variety of the group and everyone was happy – all was good.
Well, except for the fact that the clouds seemed to be getting lower – a lot lower! I decided to stop and take a few pics of the imposing peaks surrounding me, but that's when I noticed that I couldn't see them all that well, or rather, not at all. The ceiling here was pretty low – around about my ears I'd say! Riding head up now, the lack of ceiling became a lot more obvious and it was only going to get moreso, as I'd reached the 'Now you're climbing' part of the route map (just past the 'Road steepens' bit).
And indeed, I was now climbing: 7 degrees worth at a guess. Not too bad, but definitely sloggy. Managed to catch glimpses of peaks when cloud patches broke up, but nothing with snow on it: they were well into the solid cloud base. Here's a pic of a lower peak:
The steeper part of the climb to Chinook was only around 13.5 km, but the road was getting wetter, and so was I: the faint drizzle in the air was penetrating. I slowly caught and passed first Richard and then Lynn at the pointy end of the group, and the fact that they were wearing rain jackets made me think. Still, I certainly wasn't cold, and the major source of wet was off the road, so I kept on. Around 7 km from the top, I got hit by a shower – now I was definitely wet and decided that the rain jacket was required. A stop to put it on and then I was off again, only for the sun to appear and start making sweat big time! OK, stop and rain jacket off and continue. Shower! Jacket again – then Sun, followed by sweat! Oh please! Finally decided that as I was wet already but not cold, I'd stay wet!
Naturally enough, as I neared the top of Chinook, it got cold as well as wet: oh man! Passing the parking lot at the top, a guy next to his car gave me a 'Good job' welcome, which made me feel better. Thanks dude!
Just around the Pass, the silver BA van appeared, and I decided that, given the shower had set in, the jacket was going back on and staying on! Head Guide Diane was driving the van and concurred – it was a longish downhill to lunch and the chill factor was going to rise significantly. She gave me a sympathetic look and rhetorically asked 'How about this weather?'. She looked a little sad for me – well I imagined so anyway! Not sure why - I mean it's not like she controlled the weather right?
Standing at the van shivering, two more figures emerged from the mist: Lynn and Charis had arrived looking calm and collected, and like they loved it! They may well have done.
The three of us left a couple of minutes later, and started what without question was the coldest, most miserable 21km of my cycling life! It was pretty much downhill to the lunch spot, but if I'd imagined that going down was going to be enjoyable, I was quickly dispelled of that notion!
It became clear pretty quickly that it was going to be a wet, chilling, and slippery descent. Some of the descents were reasonably steep, but the combination of chill and slippery road conditions meant it was a balance between getting it over with, and preserving life! I opted for the getting it over approach, and let the bike run on as much a possible: as long as my fingers weren't actually freezing solid and my brakes weren't actually visibly wearing away my rims, I kept the speed on the high side and, shivering and shaking, made it down the road-works strewn descent in fairly quick time.
Which turned out to be a fairly lunatic idea – I spent the next 20 odd minutes at the lunch spot waiting for the van to appear, shivering in my Sidi's. As a consequence, I have no idea what the 'Grove of the Patriarchs' was, or consisted of. Tall, old trees I'm guessing.
After lunch, which remains a mystery but I am sure was nice, I did a complete change of clothes, and donning the rain jacket, headed off after the others. It was a further 34km to 'Paradise', most uphill, and of course now that I had the rain jacket on, it was no longer raining, hence I got sweat soaked. But damn it, it was staying on this time!
The climb was once again a litle 'grindy' but the cloud had thinned out, and the views were lovely. Disembarking to take a pic, I found my camera had acquired a thick mist inside its viewfinder, and I couldn't see a thing! It didn't appear to want to dry out anytime soon, hence my lack of pics of that lovely section of road: winding tarmac cut into steep mountain sides with numerous little waterfalls, and expansive views across valleys!
Winding up one side of the valley, I could see ahead in the distance a series of switchbacks on the other valley side: the road to Paradise! Hmm – looked like Hell! :)
The road we were on did a U-turn at the top of the valley and followed those switchbacks. At the top of this valley at the U-turn was Box Canyon, which has to be the world's thinnest! A narrow notch cut into the mount side, it passes under a little stone bridge perched over its top: peering over the edge presented the following view poorly captured by my now unmisted camera!
It's way more spectacular than that – the narrowest of slots holds a torrent some several hundred feet below: it made me seriously consider getting off the little bridge as soon as possible!
Charis and Lynn went past whilst I was on the bridge – they looked dry and happy! So why was I wearing my rain jacket? After taking it off and setting out after them, I soon found out why – they were stopped by the side of the road putting theirs back on!
Well, to be perfectly honest, I couldn't be bothered again: I was already wet thru' a second time, it wasn't far to 'Paradise', and stopping meant I was only going to lose that amount of time being inside where it was warm, so I just plowed on. Up the switchbacks and I'd arrived! Well, not quite, as anyone who knows anything about any specific paradise will know it takes a little more attaining than that! It took a little over 3 more kms of attaining, along which I suspect was the steepest part of the climb all day, and which was definitely the coldest!
'Paradise' (in reality the Paradise Inn) finally crawled into view, and I made a bee-line to it across a crowded parking lot which wiggled around some significant construction points - Paradise was in need of a renovation!
I'd made it, and in hindsight, it was a great (if a little wet) ride. Parking my bike in a closed off area, I returned outside to watch Lynn roll in, and then quickly decided that each succeeding person coming in could watch the next – I was heading for the large fireplace to swoon over its large metal grate!
The Inn was packed with people – hikers, and more serious climbers looking to ascend Mt Rainier, which was apparently around here somewhere. In my entire time at the Inn (1 layover day, 2 nights and 2 mornings) I didn't see it once, shrouded as it was in mist and cloud. Some claim to have – I suspect they were delusional! The fools were climbing to a non-existent myth!
What wasn't a myth was that miraculously, my room (although in the non-renovated section) had a bathtub, in which I spent the next several hours lazing in piping hot water: glorious!
Tonight was dinner on our own: I was kindly invited to join Ron and Barbara, and Randy and Charis, and had a very pleasant meal amongst some charming people. Poor Barbara had been fighting a virus for a few days, but had soldiered on, and displayed admirable fighting qualities – she was a lovely lady and I hoped the layover day at the all curative 'Paradise' would do just that!
Arrived back at my room to find the in-room heater had worked its magic – the place was toasty warm, and I settled into bed, tired and looking forward to sleep. Which eventually came and went, and came and went: 'Paradise' had conspired to place outside my window a large sill of sheet metal which resonated like the percussion section of a full-blown orchestra to the sound of each drop of water off the roof! I can now fully appreciate the sheer inhumanity of the Chinese Water Torture. I eventually got off to sleep, counting the drops as I, and they, fell.
