Weekend 8: Tour de Fat, Bellingham Kegger, Mt. Baker Road Ride

Oh, I am so close to catching up... I can taste it. Not that it matters now, but I just want to get these up here so no matter where I am I can pull up some cool pictures.

Weekend 7 started off with Tour de Fat, a bike/beer festival (the best kind) held in Fremont, just north of Seattle. I decided to volunteer for a few hours before heading up to Bellingham with Big Tom, as (a.) As a volunteer at a beer festival, there is a chance that you can get free beer, and (b.) from what I could tell by the posters the whole event just looked like a blast.

The Tour Balloon

Arriving at the festival around 1, I began searching the crowd for the familiar face of Gary Strauss, who had originally asked that I attend. I went to security to ask about volunteering, and they tossed me over to the token booth where they were selling $4.00 beer tokens. Once at the token booth, I was kicked over to the beer tent... NOW we're getting somewhere, I thought. Sure enough, Gary was there, pouring away. He set me up on a tap and I proceeded to drink Fat Tire beer in between pouring for frantic Fat Tire fans dressed in whacked out costumes.

Gary Pouring Brew

Example of the costumes. It's like NASCAR meets Bondage.

There tended to be calm periods between mad rushes to get the beer. In these periods, I would fill up with one of the 6 brews on tap and walk around to see the festivities. There was a stage with various rock bands playing, there was a crowd dressed in what I can only describe as... well, I can't... Just look at the picture.


The coolest part, no, wait, the coolest part was that I was drinking beer, great beer, for free. The second coolest part of the festival were the bikes. There were a number of ridiculous rides there, each the product of an insane/creative mind.

SWEET Bikes. So creative.

Random jack-o, pouring himself a drink.

Following the festival, I left to my car that prior to parking was coming dangerously close to an empty gas tank. Well, when you park on a very steep hill with a near empty gas tank, you car will likely decide not to start... noted. Tom picked me up a few minutes later and we headed to Bellingham for the kegger.


We had a local mico brew called Boundary Bay Blonde Ale on tap, so we worked on that along with some sausages and hamburgers for the remainder of the night... it was just a typical kegger; drunk people, good beer, lots of laughs, a great time.

Steph (Tom's Girlfriend) and Tom... the kegger culprits.

I crashed that night around 1:30 and awoke 5.5 hours later to grab a shower, breakfast, and jump into the car and head out to the base of Mt. Baker for the Baker Road Ride with the Cascade bike club. The morning went smoothly right up to the point where I stepped outside to get in my car and realized there probably wasn't a fleck of blue sky within a hundred miles of Bellingham or Baker.


I don't know if I've told you this before, but biking in the rain equates to hanging out in a colder version of hell. I drove up to the base of Baker and parked. I was the first there, so I kicked back with some coffee and peanuts getting ready. Within the hour, everyone was present, and Gary made his typical "Ride at your own pace, this is a hill climb, have fun, if the weather turns bad I suggest you turn around..." With that, we got on the bikes and dashed off.


For the first 7 or 8 miles, the terrain was long rolling hills, perfect for a good pace line. A group of 5 of us took the lead and started pulling up the hills. When we hit the base of the mountain, the group split into 3, 1, and 1; two fellas and myself up front, another guy in the middle, and a lady in the back. Within minutes the guys I was with destroyed me, and the lead five were spread out as 2, 1, 1, 1.


I took no pictures on the way up. It was cold, and within 5 miles of hitting the bottom of baker is started to rain. It wasn't Virginia rain where thousands of teardrops crash down upon you. No, it was Washington rain where millions and millions of tiny mist particles work their way into each of your pores and begin to freeze you from the inside out.


By the time I reached the top, the two lead men had been there for a good 4 minutes, the other guy was riding with me, and the lady was completely out of the picture. I was soaked through... Every inch of me was wet, cold, and miserable. My feet ached.

F'ing SOAKED. It was just awful.

And we weren't done.


From the top of the ski area to Artist point was another 3'ish miles of what everyone had described as "Alps'esque" riding; high grade, wicked switchbacks, and unfortunately, a lot more snow, ice (remaining from the year before), rain, etc...

Example of the switchbacks leading up to Artist Point. Mothers.

We pulled into the upper parking lot within 20 minutes, snapped a few pictures of gray-nothingness, and got the hell of the mountain.


A bit of background: Mt. Baker holds the record for the most snowfall ever measured within the United States in a single season; 1140 inches. Artist points typically closes in November and does not reopen until some time in July. SICK.

Just look how much snow is left!! Madness.

The ride down, though easier on the legs, was probably worse than the ride up for the rest of my body. As it was all down hill with zero hills, no effot had to be exerted by my body, and therefore the wind, the rain, the cold temperature, etc... just ravaged me. I was shivering with such ferocity that I nearly fell off the bike. My jaw ached horribly from my teeth chattering.

Best "view" shot I could get... damn clouds.

One word: Bleh.

But, I did get some pictures!

Finally, I got of the mountain and into a more moderate climate. I hit some hills and was able to get my body to heat up a bit. Pretty soon I had to stop and remove the wet windbreaker, as it was just too hot.

Back in the rain forrest where I began feeling my toes again.

We arrived back in the parking lot just a few hours after starting, happy with the accomplishment but bummed about the weather. It was worth doing the ride, to say that I'd done it, but next time I'll be more prepared... whether prepared mean that I (1.) have more clothes or (2.) have the ability to look at something and say F-that, I'll take a raincheck (no pun intended).

After arriving back in Bellingham, Tom showed me around his campus, and I snapped a few pictures there. I could definitely see myself living in Bellingham one day... it is a sweet little town that has the feel of Blacksburg and Roanoke wrapped into one. I enjoyed my time there very much.

Bellingham is so hooked up. A view from the campus (that is the ocean).

A flower, in a garden.

Ok, is it just me being immature, or is this sculpture just HILARIOUS. If PETA only knew what as being advertised on Western's Campus...

Just look at his face!

These were sweet. There is a time capsul from underneath each of those date stones.

One more thing, before I close... Tom and I woke up on monday morning to drive back to Seattle and there wasn't a single cloud in the sky. I, along with the rest of the cascaders, missed one of the best days of the entire summer to ride Mt. Baker... by one... single... day.

Such is life.

Weekend 7 (Sunday): Dragontail, Enchantment Lakes Hike

Deciding to push the limits of "hardcore," I planned the epic weekend of epic weekends. Beginning at 6am on Sunday morning, I was halfway through it having knocked out the Whidbey Island tour on the previous day. Within a few hours, I would be hitting the trail with Jared (the madman) on a trek up to Dragontail, a jagged knife edge peak, exposed on either side by thousand foot drops into the void.

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The trip was approximately an 11 hour trip per the guide book, and we needed to be out by nightfall, as we did not have a camping permit for that area. Within the past years the forrest service made these permits a requirement to camp in the lakes region. The permit season begins in May, and the permits sell out by February. Ridiculous.

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Having been there, I can understand the need for permits... The beauty I witnessed there is like nothing I have ever seen before. To be honest I am no where near qualified to even write about this place... it is simply too large to describe. Single pictures cannot capture the scale of the park. On this trip alone, I took 17 panoramic photos, more than all of my previous trips... combined. It is easy to see how such a place could be overrun by outdoor enthusiasts.

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From Trails.com:

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Dragontail’s name originated from the miniature rock needles on the thin “tail” of the crest southwest of the summit. The second-highest peak in the Stuart Range, its Serpentine Arete is one of the most famous climbs in the Cascades. Popular with climbers because of its accessibility, good rock, and impressive appearance, Dragontail is also remarkable for a non-technical approach, without ropes and protection, to the same aerial vistas. While the north face is noteworthy on the approach, the northeast face is less noticeable because of its orientation toward the broad couloirs leading to Aasgard Pass. It is from the east that the scramble route is achieved, but only after reaching the plateau of the Enchantment Lakes basin. Dragontail can be scrambled in a single day as an ultra-strenuous marathon if you are traveling light and fast over Aasgard Pass. But to savor the full, exalted experience, take 2 days and camp in the upper Enchantment Basin, or take several days and bask in the divine ambiance of this exquisite area. On a more leisurely trip, the approach to the Enchantments can be made from Snow Lakes. Some scramblers complain about the Snow Creek Trail—too many miles to accomplish the elevation and when you get to the eastern basin there are too many people. Aasgard Pass is a shortcut to the Enchantments: notorious not only for cliffs and slick boulders, but also for sudden summer storms that can dump snow any time of year. Finally, when you get to the Enchantments, the people are everywhere anyway. Yet Aasgard Pass is the shortest distance into the Enchantments, and the only feasible route for a single day scramble. If you plan to camp overnight, be sure to plan several months in advance to get an overnight camping permit. A wilderness permit for day use is also required. Because day use permits are more plentiful, the single day method requires less planning; but it also requires considerably more stamina.

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Highlights:

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1.) The approach to Colchuck lake... seeing the peak I would be on top of within a few hours.

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2.) Arriving at Colchuck lake and taking in the electric blue waters as we stopped for lunch.

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3.) Aasgard pass. 2,000-some-odd feet in approximately a mile. It was a beastly scramble that topped out with views of the enchantments, Colchuck lake, and the peak where were headed.

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4.) Picking out a scramble route out on a section of rock where no route was thought to exist.

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5.) Reaching the top of the new scramble route faced with a 40 foot zone of rock where it was no longer a scramble and absolutely necessary to have ropes and protection to safely climb any higher.

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6.) Climbing higher anyway.

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7.) Sitting on a knife edge, 3 or 4 feet wide, shaking from adrenaline, taking in the single greatest view I have ever seen and knowing that I was one of the small group of people who had ever gotten to the top of that particular rock (certainly in the manner in which I did...i.e the stupid way).

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8.) Getting to the bottom of Aasgard Pass with ZERO knee pain... god bless hiking poles. The was the first time I had ever used them, and I won't do distance hiking again without them.

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9.) Hiking the remaining 8-ish miles out of the wilderness in the dead of night discussing the Milgram Experiment (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milgram_experiment) and what horrible tricks our minds would be playing on us if we had been walking solo through the same woods.

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10.) The crystal black night sky, a swimming pool of stars so bright that they could nearly light our way.

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We returned to the cars at 11 PM that night, some 13 hours after hitting the trail, exhausted but thrilled with the accomplishment.

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Pictures:

The destination...

Sweet little waterfall.

Looking back from Colchuck to where we came from.

Pine tree and cones in front of Aasgard.

Refilling the water supply before hitting Aasgard in the face.

Looking back on Colchuck. So nice.

The ridgeline to the right of the snowfield is Dragontail. I was on top of the 3 point from the farthest point to the right in this picture.

From the scramble looking out on the Enchantments.

You know what they say about playing with altitude...?...

KNIFE EDGE... though this picture doesn't really show it as well as I had hoped.

From the edge out across the valley. Lake Stuart is in the bottom right corner.

Oh... the exposure!

Panoramic from the top.

My nalgene suffered a fate that I did not... and lived to hold water another day.

The climbers (the two spots in the bottom right-ish of the picture) really put the ridge enormity into proportion.

What would an entry be without a flower shot?

Looking back having just descende Aasgard.

Sunset over a mirror pool.

Weekend 7 (Saturday): Whidbey Island Bike Tour

My god, I am incredibly behind in posts... drastic measures must be taken. I am going to hold off on uploading a majority of the photos. I love for everyone to have the full size images, but it just takes too long. Also, if I keep showing all the photos from my trip as I live it (ok, so a few weeks after the fact), I will have nothing to show when I get back from WA. My presentation would consist of me saying, "So this is _____" and you all yawning saying, "Dude, we've seen it."

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Ok, onto the post. I'm not sure how many of you know that I was actually born in Washington. yes, born in Washington, raised in New Mexico, and sold into slavery in Virginia... I have lived a magnificent life.

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While many of my trips have been organized events put together by the Cascade Bike club or at the suggestion of the madman, Jared, I did arrive in Seattle with at least a few “goals” for the summer. Among these, returning to my birthplace of Oak Harbor located on Whidbey Island Washington held quite a high priority. It was my desire to hop on a bike and take a tour of the island in order to take in the fields, forests, farms and families from a reference frame moving along at an average of 17 miles per hour. Lucky for me, my plans coincided with those of Gary Strauss, the great bike trip organizer from Cascade, on what he called the Whidbey Island Loop (Century Plus).
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The route: Ferry to the southern tip of the island and weave east and west across the main highway 125, always progressing north to Oak Harbor. From there we would cross Deception pass, the scenic bridge allowing passage from Whidbey Island to Fidalgo Island. Continuing north-east we would spin through a few of the small towns of the island before crossing back onto the main land where we would make our way through miles of fields on the old Pacific Coast Highway, returning eventually to our cars at the Whidbey Ferry.
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I begin the ride by missing the train when it left the station. Gary told us that we would leave for the ride at 7:30am, a time dictated not by the arrival of the last rider as it had in the past but rather by the departure time of the Island ferry. Being the schmuck that I am, I decided that a delicious omelet and a French press of Sinful was necessary to start my day. Worse yet, I decided to kick back and enjoy it. Needless to say, I missed the first ferry. No worries, I met up with another rider who had also missed it. He wasn’t concerned, “We’ll catch them” he said with an air of confidence I felt was a bit strong considering his "I survive on donuts" appearance.

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As expected, the guy dragged ASS. Not wanting to follow the cue sheet, I followed him, cruising along at average of around 15 mph, bloody slow for any crew chasing down a pack of riders who promised a pace of ~18 mph. In fact, even one who hasn’t had the pleasure of freshman physics would likely reason that it was impossible to catch the front pack at such a rate. I casually spun along with him for a while (around 26 miles) before asking, “Are you trying to catch the riders, or you just wanting to keep a 15 pace?”
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“Nope, just riding.”
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"Interesting," I reply. "Welp... see ya later," I say, while kicking it up a full chain ring, pulling away never to see him again. My guess is that he turned around at the next intersection.
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I caught the riders at 36 miles, pulling into the group at their 3rd regroup point amidst questions/comments of “Now, just where the hell did you come from?!” and “I knew you’d miss the ferry! I’m glad you caught us!”
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I enjoyed being with the pack again for the remainder of the day, getting to know a few more people, and getting to know a few others even better.

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As the majority of the trip was spent pedaling along and my camera isn’t the most compact point and shoot, I took most of the pictures at the regroup points where people grabbed a snack (perhaps an enormous cinnamon roll from a small town bakery) and carried on about how well the ride was going.

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A few of the highlights:

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1.) Eating a cinnamon roll as big as my head (and I have a BIG head) when I finally caught the group after 36 miles.

2.) Entering Oak Harbor, the city where I was born.

3.) Crossing Deception Pass an a narrow-ass bridge and snapping pictures all over the place.

4.) Celebrating mile 79 with a frosty mug of NW Washington Micro-brew Porter.
5.) Passing the 106 mile mark... making it the longest ride I had ever been on.

6.) Riding the old pacific northwest highway in some speedy pace-lines.

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Pictures!

Approaching the island from the ferry.



I finally caught up with the pack at around mile 36. I celebrated with a GOOEY Cinnamon roll.

Welcome to Oak Harbor, the birthplace of Devon Patrick Murphy.

Deception Pass. There is something about wild currents, windspeeds, water levels that makes this place difficult to navigate through on a boat. "Great story, Devon."

Entering La Conner. Such a quiet place to live.

Lovely Porter from La Conner Brewing Company at mile 79.

Nice contrast.

Riders on the Old Pacific Coast Highway in perfect weather. This was about 20 minutes after a terrible crash where one woman nearly broke her hip. The guy who caused the crash, a real piece of work, is likely banned from riding with the club (at least on Gary's rides) again. Good riddance.

Farms.


The beach across the water from Whidbey directly after the ride.

Do you see it!? (Yin Yang) Very cool.