We’ve received a lot of wonderful comments from this year’s riders, and wanted to highlight a couple of blog posts by riders (with pictures).
First, here’s a lengthy, fun post on the Trail Runner’s blog (excerpt below):
Chris Devine (aka, “Devo”) was our local tour guide, a resident of nearby Chico, CA, who had just finished a long ride in nearby Lassen Park. He pointed out to us that most of the climbs would be like the first one – tall (3600′ of climbing) but not a high grade, with 8 miles to get there. It was a comfortable pace, just enough to keep a breeze going, instead of an out-of-the-saddle grunt fest.
We met some characters at the top of the first climb, none more so than “Two Hats”, a through-hiker from Australia who had started up the Pacific Coast Trail in Mexico 90 days earlier, on his way to Canada. Lets just say he was pretty stoked to see a bunch of people AND a bunch of fresh cut watermelon.
The descent was smooth and easy to navigate thanks to an insanely well marked course. They even highlighted divots in the road with neon marker so you could spot them on descents! It provided a nice level of comfort for these 35-45 mph plunges. I bet the pros on the TdF would go for that.
(photo courtesy Scott Dunlap)
Then writer Mike McQuaid posted a heap of nice pictures taken during his Super Century Ride, and also mentioned his pre-ride training in this post).
(photo courtesy Mike McQuaid)
(Here’s a blog post from 2010 we missed the first time around).
Give those blogs a visit and see if their experience is similar to yours.
See you next August, TC
This was such a beautiful ride I hope you will forgive the detail that follows.
To begin, Shasta City is a fun hip community where sunshine and the counterculture is alive and well. The riders come from all over and I was fortunate to be with some from the area.
This is very much a community ride; a big hearted effort by many. The super century is one of four rides (from a flat 30 miler, a hillier metric century , a three climb century and a four climb super century). Many families attend with each doing the ride they wish. Thus some families did this ride with four generations arrayed on routes of differing difficulty.
The ride design is a cloverleaf of sorts (see maps on website) so riders of all levels pass one another going different directions…saying sweet things like “hang in there!” or “go to hell, you can’t be that far ahead!” and other sweet kinship utterances. Three miles out of town is the Lake Siskiyou resort. My group all had RV’s parked around the lake and we rode in the am and swam in the pm. The local store and laundromat were close by and wine, gatherings and good conversation flowed. This resort was right on the route and many fancier places were nearby. Nothing like a gently warm alpine lake to soothe the legs (and the chilled beer selection was great too!).
In my group I was the youngest (at 59) and rode with an amazingly humble and capable friend (Dee) who turned 70 the day of the ride and Russ, a wonderfully capable rider. Dee had just recovered from being in bed for a week with serious bronchitis. Four days prior she was pretty sure she was too weak to do the big ride. Four days in Shasta changed her mind.
Shasta City is at 3590 feet and is swathed in farmland and classic subalpine forests. The first remarkable thing about the ride is that there are almost no cars. Two of the four climbs were on narrow forest service roads. It is also stunningly quiet: the chief noise is the wind and the streams cascading from pool to pool ( esp on the second “Mumbo summit”) ride. The second remarkable thing was the collegiality. Riders helped one another all the time. When you came to a rest stop there was someone who took your bike, asked how you were ( likely also checking for hallucination?) and parked your bike for you in a rack.
The ride begins in the dark so headlamps are helpful as you traverse miles of farmland, savoring the shadows of barns and far vistas. It brought new meaning to the idea of following the light. The first climb is 3900’ up to the Pacific Crest trail at “Park Creek”. All but a few climbed at a chatting pace so many friends were made. One person in my group was the national masters champion for 50k and 50 mile running (whew!) but he was a nice guy and gave me a wonderfully detailed lecture about being a test athlete at Stanford and what really happens to the body after long difficult events (not pretty but impressive)
The entire first climb (to 6868’) was into an increasingly rosy dawn with the temperature falling as we “warmed” to the climb. Streams were abundant due to the huge snowfall and there were patches of snow at the top. At the first summit were a few hikers who began the pacific crest trail 1100 miles (four months) earlier with interesting stories.
The first descent was a marriage of exhilaration and fear as you could go as fast as hell if you wished. Potholes were mostly filled or well marked but going 40+ mph down a windy Forest Service road seems to be a cross between a triple latte and talking to God. The end result of a somewhat cool descent is that the legs felt much recovered.
After that was a sweet bucolic ride through Weed CA and the countryside. The rest stop was very well stocked with fresh fruit, small potatoes, lots of beverages, scads of ice to put in your water bottle and the usual array of carb bars, fig bars etc. Fifteen miles later was climb #2 to Mumbo (6520’). It was aptly named as mumbling increased with slope and altitude. Most of this was up an alpine stream valley so imagine ascending next to huge pines, occasional redwoods while listening to the water cascading nearby and feeling the sun glint off deep green pools that seemed to say “sit here oh tired traveler and rest thy weary limbs!”. Thankfully this climb has a rest stop in the middle as I was close to surrender to the sirens’ songs. At the top your bike checker greets you anew and you are handed nice white towels and invited to towel off the sweat with water from huge jug (it felt like business class flying!). The view was great and there were canopies and chairs for riders to sit, chat and fuel up or simply gather their remaining wits. Yes there were points in this climb where the Garmin said 14 or 15% but they were not long and somehow it all worked if you went slowly enough (a thought applicable to more than biking?).
I should also note that 35% of the entries were female so there were other forms of beauty to appreciate during the climb. Also there were those who were clearly straining every sinew to make it as far as they had. My suffering was nothing compared to theirs. The second descent was equally fast but the recovery was less so.
Climb #3 was the one I was warned about. It was short (7 miles) and steep (16% in spots) and pretty damn hot. But then again there were the small miracles of the road. Imagine if you will lookling up the road through a sweaty haze and seeing a beautiful lady with long blond hair flowing in the breeze from under her helmet. I frankly welcomed the apparition but she (like most mirages) was tough to catch up to. When I finally did I saw she was seven months pregnant (her first) and she was just spinning up this monster hill. We had a great chat about late parenthood (she was 37) and all that entails and I pedaled on only to find she caught up with me later and said “you can do this!” and told me of the recuperative wonders of Castle Lake.
Once on top I did go to the lake. It was mostly surrounded by a beautiful steep serac. A gentle wind traversed it raising tiny waves that danced with the sun like Contador on his pedals. The water was wonderful. I sat there in it for 25 mins just enjoying the return of my legs, the view and all the bathers including a Swedish tourist and few locals having a political epiphany. The 50 something Swedish tourist confessed to a nearby handsomely grizzled grandpa how fearful she felt about speaking her mind about American politics. “Can you truly say what you feel here?” she asked. “Yes. Ma’am, this is American you can not only say it, you can shout it!”. Shortly thereafter she shed her mantle of fear, jumped onto a boulder and shouted out “Sarah Palin is sooooo stuuuuuuuuuupid” and then the vet joined the chorus and their voices echoed off the far valley walls and mingled with the wind.
She got off the rock all aglow and turned and hugged him saying “I’ve been here five weeks and always wanted to say this but was afraid to do so!” He replied, “Welcome to America ma’am, sorry it took so long to get here”.
This descent was faster as the road was much wider and a sumptuous lunch awaited on the cool shady lawn of the country club about a mile from the bottom. There were all matter of good sandwiches, treats, fruits, drinks and chats. 12 or more in my group were hanging out and passing messages (they were doing shorter rides). My friend Dee was also still going and amazing everyone as they tracked were (and how) everyone was.…like a tribe in transition.
The final climb was the hottest climb. Shasta Mtn has a beautiful broad shouldered highway almost all the way to the summit. Nice round turns, no chip seal. After 5900’ it cools (a bit) as you pass through a deep alpine forest with huge redwoods punctuated with views of 75 to 100 miles or Shasta itself towering 8000’ feet above. This climb had two interim stops (most welcome) and a cheering section midway where about six folks sprayed you with water, shouted encouragement and then the last person ( a big guy) jogged beside you and gave you an immense push up the road. WOW did that feel good.
This climb perhaps had some 12% patches but the heat and fatigue were the main adversaries. On the other hand, the beauty, the quiet and the collegial suffering made for a nice self-anaesthesia to pass the time. At a certain level of depletion, it is rather easy to imagine that the twelve foot sentinel stones on either side of the road are saluting your sweat stained struggle. If you go slowly enough most anything is possible. At 6,500’ I broke out the GU…and things felt much better or better said, more things actually felt. From here up the wind rose and boulders, alpine sedge, sweet alpine smells and ponds and streams coaxed away the fatigue or perhaps created a counterpoint of beauty earned by effort.
Just before the top I caught my other riding buddy, Russ, and we both got silly attempting to sprint the last few feet. The top was beautiful, very well staffed and they even had plastic ponchos for riders not wanting to get a chill on the way down. .
The final descent was dreamlike…4200’ with wide swooping turns, smooth pavement and no cross winds. I noted the descent seemed to cleanse the suffering of the climb…or at least introduce a counterpoint. Back in town all were gathered for a nice lasagna dinner with good salad, drinks and lots of volunteered wine where everyone shared the adventures of the day. When my friend, the amazing Dee was one of the last to the top but she did it and returned to a surprise birthday party with 20 people singing and saying she was totally nuts in a way only good friends can do.
Dee and others did the Sierra Death Ride this year and all agreed that Shasta was more challenging, more beautiful and more friendly.
I am not sure of the takeaway here other than that this is a ride with routes for almost anyone and a community that makes you feel welcome (imagine folks out in the afternoon sun with a sign “post hiking/riding massages” reintroducing you to your quads and hamstrings). Shasta welcomes the entire range of riders and families; yes there are the speedy ones but then there are the mere mortals taking it a breath at a time knowing they will soon see friends again and that friends count for more than ride time.
In sum: if you seek ride with heart, Shasta is where to start.
Second time around. Still one of, if not the best organized century rides around. Had a mechanical ( rear wheel broken spoke ) coming off the second climb. Within a short time a sag wagon came along, shuttled me all the way down to the KOA campground in Shasta where my wife was finished with her 60 miler. I used her rear wheel and completed the last climb of the day. Missed Castle Lake, oh darn, but did this one last year. Will complete the Double Metric next year. Only pulled off 115 or so this year. A special thank you to the Mt. Shasta amateur radio club and Art Scharf in the SAG wagon. Over all saved my day. Again, well done to all. Wonderful and extremely challanging ride.
My favorite picture here: http://darelldd.smugmug.com/Bicycle/2011-Rides/201108-Shasta-Century/i-zdp2qPH/0/X2/11080729shasta-X2.jpg
I’m not sure if this was the hardest ride I’ve done. And I know it would have been different for me if I wasn’t just coming off a week+ of sinus infection. All I can say for sure is that I’ve done some hard rides in my short riding career – and this was one of them.
I don’t think the Shasta Summit Century gets enough credit for what a difficult, beautiful, well-run event it is. Fabulous roads. Un-crowded. Almost no traffic. Exceptional staffing, signage, marking, food. Riders don’t get stickers for completing anything. We just get the views and the back-slaps. The volunteers are genuinely in awe when you get it done, but for the most part it isn’t obvious how hard the ride is until you start to turn the pedals. If I had to choose one favorite thing from the ride (hard to do!) it would be the roads – the generally great pavement, the beauty and the almost ZERO traffic the entire day. Where there was any traffic expected, there were relevant signs on the road both for the cars and the cyclists. The markings on the road were the best I’ve ever seen. Not in the margin. Not little stickers. But HUGE 4’ long arrows right in the middle of the road! And if that weren’t enough, the cue sheet was PERFECT, even though it wasn’t needed because of the great markings!
By design, I rode this thing about 95% by my lonesome. I ended up seeing four other Davis Bike Club riders out there. Riding alone, I could spit, fart and pass out at my leisure without having to check in with anybody. That worked out great. This ride about killed me, and I loved it.
I haven’t had a fever in three days, but the sinuses are still swollen and making my teeth hurt. I make snot like a factory and my jaw hurts from a chronic cough. But the beauty of this ride is that after the first 30 miles, you can turn around anywhere, and roll down hill back to the start/finish. It is likely that one of the big (ironic) reasons I finished is because I knew how easy it would be to give up, and check out early. So with not much to lose, I headed out of the log house at 6:15 (perfect 50 degrees!) with arm and knee warmers, a vest and my DBC kit. I grabbed some fruit at the check-in and headed out onto the course at 6:30 – the beginning of the start window for my century group. I was about to try riding with a guy I chatted with at registration when he pulled an amazing bone-head move of cutting off a car… and that began my solo journey. We first head North to Weed along awesome country roads – with Mt. Shasta ALWAYS looming in the not-so-distance. When dawn broke, I swear you could hear the angles… and the cows. I rode slow enough to bore the snails. Infuriatingly slow. I knew this was my only chance to finish, and I had no time constraints, so what the hell. In just a couple of miles I began to close on a small group of riders and wondered how I could possibly be catching anybody. When I finally “caught” them, a brief chat revealed that they were on the 25 mile family ride and left an hour before me to have a chance at making it to the lunch stop before it closed (!) The first rest at mile 21 is in Weed, and Joaquin and I were surprised to run into each other. Out of context and all that. We said howdy but nobody suggested riding together. We said howdy again three more times at each rest stop… but never saw each other on the road. The fresh melon at all the stops was *awesome* – as was the unlimited ice water.
By mile 35, there have been no real “climbs” but my Garmin shows that I already have 2,000’ feet in my legs on (mostly) rollers. And it’s at that point that I roll right past our house. So I lean the bike on the mailbox, strip the vest and warmers and leave them on the stairs to our flat. How’s that for a great bag drop? Down past Lake Siskiyou and across the dam… up the South shore. Single-lane along the main feeder creek. Looks like a large-scale Mix Canyon but without the 20+% grades. This is our first climb. Sort of a practice 1500’. I’ve done this one before. Seems like so much more than 1500’. Second rest stop at the turnaround of this climb (the super century guys keep going a bit beyond), and back down the hill we go. Why are people so bad at descending? Hard to pass on the twisty, single-lane road… especially with loose dogs half way down. :jeez: They belonged to a jogger and were no problem, but you don’t know that when you first encounter them – and you’re already sharing the single lane with up-hill and down-hill riders! In general there was not only very little car traffic, but also very light bike traffic (and no crowding at any of the rest stops). And in general folks were skilled and courteous. But there’s always something/somebody…. On this descent the muscle just above and inside both knees started to cramp. Never done that before! Took some calcium pills. Didn’t help. Took more. It helped.
Before crossing the dam again, we head up to Castle lake. I’ve done this one too – back when I first started riding on the Scott. I recall having to stop several times to rest. Not today. Humped it all the way up in one go, and this is the only place where I rode with and chatted with another rider. Was fun while it lasted and he has lots of experience with this ride. I learned a lot. Top of Castle and there was Joaquin again (how? I thought I left the last rest before him, and nobody passed me). And he looked like shit. Said he’d throw in the towel after lunch. My feet were painfully swollen, and I waded into the lake to cool ‘em down. Like HEAVEN! Lesson learned at this rest stop – don’t bother to eat. Lunch is 15 minutes away at the bottom of the hill (no effort to get there). Don’t need food or water. Just hop in the lake and get back on the bike. Screaming descent with the most amazing views of Mt. Shasta – down to a big lunch spread at the golf course. HUGE lawn. Easy to spread out and have lunch next to your bike. There was Joaquin again, asking the most direct route back to his car.
So I ate a huge lunch at about noon… and it was time for the big one. 4600’ of elevation gain – AT elevation – in one go. Not something I’m well designed for, but something I’m determined to at least try. I ache from toe to head. I feel like I’ve been on the BBQ an hour too long. I’m bloated from lunch. My feet are swollen and I have the unbridled energy of a marathon napper. I’m at mile 70 with 6,000’ under my belt. What could go wrong? This isn’t a steep climb. On paper it shouldn’t be a hard climb. It simply goes on forever. 15 miles of literally never-ended elevation increase. There is NO flat or down. 100% up. The beauty is that there are two rest stops on the way up. This is one reason why I’d have a hell of a time doing this self-supported. Ice water and treats provided on the climb. Yay! I have found all day that I’m emptying both water bottles between every rest stop (!). It is so great not having to worry where to find the next water. And the water is the best in the world AND cold. Have I mentioned that the first part of this thing is HOT with no shade? And the mountain shields from any air movement. Hot, still, thin air. Ready to climb? Better get comfortable on the bike because this is a relentless (well, except for the rest stops!) 3-hour climb. I mean if you don’t stop and lollygag like I did. As you climb away from town, it isn’t particularly pretty, it is miserably hot and exposed. It is noon. And the steepest section is staring at you in the face. Once you pass the first snow gate in a couple of miles, the getting gets better. The road is astonishingly beautiful, and it calms down to a pleasant if not steeper-feeling-than-it-should 6%. And shade. Glorious shade. After a bit the natural AC kicks in as the breeze comes off the snow at the top. As far as hot, tired climbs go, it doesn’t get much better than this. An hour later a bit of that awe and wonder has worn off… but there’s the water stop! Here’s how tired I was – I let the guy valet park my bike! Of course that was AFTER he told me all about HIS custom steel bike.
In the next hour I came to snow on the side of the road… and started seeing riders descending. But they weren’t summit riders. They were locals. Jeans, boots, baseball cap on backwards. Cruisers and Mt. Bikes. They pile a bunch of bikes in a pickup, and somebody runs them to the top, and they come flying down. I really started to wonder why I wasn’t seeing any other summit riders coming down. Not one. In the final hour of the climb I finally saw them start to trickle down. A tandem was the third one – was awesome to hear it go by at 50+ mph. wow! The final pitch is truly inspiring. There’s the snow-covered summit right there behind these switch-backs that cut through a moonscape of raw earth. And the rest stop perched right there with snow all around.
Now I need to rewind a bit and mention that I’ve stepped off the bike into the shade several times on this thing. Heart pounding in my chest. Swollen feet burning. Sweat blinding me. I’ve been in my 28 rear cog the entire time. Never pushing it. Really going as slow as I could. And this is the same for the previous climbs as well. I wore my HR monitory for this one, so I even have proof of how consistent I was putting out the mild effort. After an accumulated 9,000’ of climbing I was reminded of two things – that I wasn’t quite better from my sinus infection, and that I was at elevation. I started to get that same barfy feeling I had at the Lair this year. The good news is that I played it MUCH smarter this time around – when that feeling started, I would simply step off and let it pass. In this way, I would see the same few riders that were near me time after time. We leap-frogged for hours. When the summit was in view, I was feeling enough elation to sort of ignore the barfy feeling, and press on. I got to the top and had trouble getting off my bike and standing up. Somebody offered to take a picture. I about laughed out loud, but instead said “OK” and that picture came out pretty well! This is where I was told that I only had to hang on to the finish. No pedaling needed EVER. Not even a slight flat or up-hill pitch. I enjoyed the views, chatted with all the people I could only grunt to on the climbs, and then asked why there were so few descenders. Well, it turns out the reason was that I was the 28th person to the top of the damn thing. Not very many people complete this thing. The poorest record are those who try the super-century. This is everybody’s final climb, and a huge percentage of the riders just can’t get motivated after lunch.
So the fly back down is AMAZING as I expected it would be. Just moments after I left the summit (after negotiating the gravel and frost heave sections of the very top) and I started the brake-free roll down to reality from the top of the world – everything about the day hit me and I started to get emotional. I can’t believe I freaking did it. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t make it when I started this ride. I gave myself tons of excuses as to why there was no honor lost in bailing early. I knew that nobody would lose respect for me if I terminated early. I wanted to turn around about 20 times on the final climb. But here I was. A super feeling to be “done” and with 15 miles of the most scenic descent still ahead of me. Man! I got choked up. At this moment I was really missing my riding buddies. I would have loved to share this part! Then, just as quickly as that moment came to me, every muscle and joint seemed to seize up on me and hurt. Knees screaming. Back screaming. Cramps. Gaaa. After all that effort, then holding still in the cool air – not a great combo for me! The thrill of the descent starts to take my mind off the pain though.
Now I get to see a LONG, spread-out train of climbers. Usually solo, sometimes in pairs. NO groups at all. I probably see 50 total in the 15 mile descent. Half are staring at the front wheel. The other half give thumbs up as I shoot by. The views are so great, and my back hurts so much that I eventually give up on my aero tuck and just become a holiday rider. I hit the finish at 4:10. Total elapsed time of 9:40… and only 30 riders finished before me?? Maybe I didn’t get that right… hell my ears were so stuffed, I have no idea what anybody was saying to me. At the finish are the now-standard zero crowds. Plenty of shady tables. Great salad and lasagna. But my sinuses were so stuffed from the fast descent that I can’t hear anything the servers are asking. I just keep pointing to my plate and they keep piling on the food. I get extra cookies because they just want me to move along at this point. I suck it down like I’m starving. Roll down to the Sacramento Headwaters (have you guys seen this?) – it is where the Sacramento River starts. Just 100’ from the start/finish of this ride. The water bubbles out of the earth and begins the journey down to us. The locals all climb out on the rocks and fill their bottles. They do prayer circles here and burn incense. It is all very “Mt. Shasta.” So my final act of the day was to fill my empty water bottle with this “best in the world” water. I toasted myself with the fresh, cold nectar of the mountain, guzzled it down, and very slowly spun the 2.5 miles back to the log house. Beer. Shower. Margaritas by the campfire.
I’m coming back next year. Minus the sinus infection.
I love the Shasta century and look forward to it this year. The new registration format with active.com sucks. I have signed up for many rides online but after four tries tonight I have given up for now.
Can you be more specific? We’ve had complaints about Active’s “Advantage” offer and all the magazine stuff in the past, so we had them turn it off this year.
We moved to the new online registration system because the administrative interface on the older one was stone age (to put it mildly).
What exactly is causing problems?
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