2008 Tuesday Night Ride - June 3, 2008 -- Treasure Creek

By Tom Clark

Eeeeeyarrrrgg!

I was seriously friggin' wet. I rode out from my place near Ester to the ride start, minus about three miles where I got a ride from Steve Clautice. By then, I was soaked. The ride started out with warm sunny weather, but with increasing clouds. I had the good sense to bring a windbreaker (turns out it isn't a rain jacket). Somewhere around the intersection of Ballaine and Goldstream, it began sprinkling on me, which doesn't much bother a cyclist. Feels good, actually. Off in the distance I heard thunder, the first of the season. Cool! The rain picked up, and by the time I was wheeling down into Fox, there had been several lightning strikes about 1.5 miles away, and I was soaked through to the core. I think that my spleen was wet.

Time was running out, so when I saw a familiar vehicle with a bike on it go by, I flagged it down. Steve and I traded "I dunno about this" type sentiments all the way up to Old Murphy Dome road. We were both dismayed to find a gaggle of vehicles and riders, all apparently ready to ride. Groan.

I kept myself busy getting hypothermic, waiting for the group to head out. By the time we left down the muddy road (west on OMD), there were ten of us, two having decided it wasn't worth the bother. The first mile and a half was pretty chilly, but when we came to the pipeline crossing I warmed up going up that hill. The rain had turned to a sprinkle and even quit from time to time, so if I hadn't been wet to begin with, I might not have gotten soaked -- yet.

About five miles later, we found our turnoff. It's near the top of a reasonable hill, the last hill before you come to the O'Connor Creek trail and drainage, and the subdivision after that. The new firebreak made the first few hundered feet of the trail unridable, but no matter. We headed down the trail, northeast, into mud. There was no bombing of the trail on this night. Everyone was saying "you wanna get around me?" and nobody wanted to. We all had the same reasonable pace in mind -- just keep rolling, not fast enough to really spray the mud around. There was enough of that anyway. By the time we got out to the pipeline, everyone was a sight.

Them's that had 'em put on another layer for the downhill to Treasure Creek. Dave James sagely warned against high speeds on this descent, and again, nobody seemed to want to go fast. Smart people. Before the descent, Dave said that the climb up from Treasure Creek was so hard, he'd give a buck to anyone who could do it. I scoffed and said "One hundered bucks."

We crossed the creek over the bridge past the sign that states the obvious: "use low gear". Todd Redinius and I were in the lead, and I was amazed at the traction up the steep pitch. I said that if ever there was a time when this might be climbable, this was it. When it is dry, it's impossible, because the traction isn't there. This was just wet enough. I made it up the steepest bit, as did Todd, but neither of us had the stamina to continue. Jeff Gimbel amazed us both by pedaling by us, with his trademark huge grin, puffing and panting, but he didn't stop. He never did. He rode up that damn hill. Wow. I started thinking about my loud mouth and the "one hundered bucks" thing. Crap.

Eventually, Jeff got tired of riding by himself, so he looped around and waited for us. I asked if it was possible for me to get out of the hundered dollar thing, and he said sure, but wondered if I had a beer at the start area. Clearly I did not, but I said that I'd get him a twelve pack -- and I will.

We trickled into the regroup spot where the pipeline crosses OMD. Dave James produced the dollar he had promised. I reminded Jeff that I owed him a twelve-pack. Then, I took my leave of the group (Jose, Pat, Jim, Jim, Geoff, Sheryl, Jeff, Dave and Todd) and rode up the pipeline to the Pack trail.

Wow, if I thought I was muddy before... This was amazingly messy. It had started raining again, and anything that had drained was now saturated again, and even low speeds threw mud around. It was dripping through my helmet down my face. Eventually it hooked me up with Waterford, and I rode the ridge road all the way down Clifden, to Goldstream. Then, it was just miserable. High speeds on the pavement, cold and rainy, wet as a drowned rat. On my climb out of the Eldorado Creek drainage, I was only just managing to keep chain-suck from ruining the whole operation when (fanfare) Dave James pulled up and offered a ride in his nice warm car. No brainer.

I got out of Dave's car at Ester Dome road (he offered to drive me home, but I didn't want him using the extra gas) and continued along Sheep Creek, fondly remembering the warm car. Brrr. Seems like the coldest I ever get in Alaska is in June. The rest of the ride was unremarkable, but I did warm up going up Gold Hill road. I hosed the bike and myself off with warm water before setting foot in the house, where I promptly showered and ate everything in sight.