It's so easy to look tough, I thought, gazing at the picture my husband shot of me riding my bike up Hatcher Pass Road on Easter Sunday.

Click to enlarge

Story tools

Comments (0)

E-mail a friend

Print

Share on Facebook

Digg this

Seed Newsvine

Send link via AIM

Follow on Twitter

Font size : A | A | A

It looked grim, even though I was shooting him a thumbs-up, meaning, "No, you don't need to rescue me -- I can make it on my own to the top." Everywhere was snow, falling fresh and wet and covering the roads, soaking my jersey and spraying a gritty combination of Matanuska Valley glacier dust and road grime into my face. The view, obscured by low, gray clouds, made it look as if I was on the moon.

But pictures are not always what they seem. Looks can be deceiving.

This is only my second year of Easter Day Hatcher Pass climbs, but already I feel an annual tradition growing in my mind. Last year, the roads were dry, the sky a bright blue, and I'd wished I brought my skinny-tired road bike for the exhilarating first-of-the-year bike ride. Instead, I trudged up on the mountain bike, still enjoying the freedom of being out on the open roads again.

This year, I hoped for the same weather but was itching to take the road bike.

It was not to be. By breakfast time, the snow was falling in Chugiak, and I called friends out near Hatcher Pass, who confirmed the snow had arrived there too. Grumbling, I put my road-biking gear away and figured riding would be out of the question -- we'd just ski instead.

Then, just before leaving, the snow petered away to nothing and a high sun could barely be seen peaking through the clouds. It was still gray, cold, wet and decidedly un-road-bike friendly. Still, I had hope. Maybe things would be different by lunchtime, when we were scheduled to meet friends at the Hatcher Pass Lodge for a mountaintop nod to Easter.

Throwing in the mountain bike and my cold-weather gear, we headed north, and up, where a surprisingly enjoyable ride would await.

See, the photo makes it look so hard, but by the second mile, I was warm through to my toes and fingers and mentally dancing for joy at finally being on pavement -- albeit wet and gritty -- for the first time of the season. My legs settled into the steady cadence of a hill climb and the burn in my quads meant I'd stay warm.

I kept the gearing at a nice spinning pace and drank often from my water bottle, never changing my pace and staying careful to avoid icy patches. Later, my Garmin would show I had burned 1,000 calories, and I would think, "No way!" How could something that felt so good have been that challenging?

Of course, it's all just a never-ending head game. The mind, when it craves something so desperately, can convince the body that there's no pain at all. Being on the open road outweighed the fact this particular road was vertical, and the weather was grim.

As with anything, by the time I've climbed Hatcher Pass for the third or fourth time during my training this summer -- regardless of weather, which bike I use or my level of conditioning -- it likely will not seem so idyllic. I might be sweating, dodging summer traffic or counting the seconds and willing that final crest of the climb to be in sight.

But for now, despite what the photo shows, Hatcher Pass is the perfect place to be.

Outdoor freelance writer Melissa DeVaughn, and her blog "Deadlines and Stopwatches," can be reached at melissadevaughn.com

ADVERTISEMENT