Eagle Canyon

I'm starting to appreciate hills.

Last Saturday I went out on a local club ride north of Reno. I showed up and waited around for two other members to appear. After one guy dropped off it was up to me and Tom. Tom looked to be in his mid-fifties and was sporting a jersey from a local high mountain century. He had the grizzled look of a man that's spent a lot of time in the saddle.

We headed north through the sprawling suburbs of Sparks and Spanish Springs snaking in and out of new housing projects. The morning sun started to beam down on us and I could feel the heat coming off the blacktop. The roads were clear. It was going to be a good day to ride.

We slowly worked northwest and began the ascent of Eagle Canyon Road. Eagle Canyon is an undulating road that climbs up over some mountains then descends into Hungry Valley. The climb is approximately 3 miles of varying 4-6% grade with several false flat sections. As I climb I leave the tile roofed houses of the Spanish Springs for sagebrush, sand, and jeep trails. There is no shade on this road. Riding mid-summer would be punishing. Our goal was to climb over the top and then follow the rolling downhill road to the Reno Sparks Indian Colony.

The funny thing about this climb is that the very first 1/4 mile is probably the steepest approaching 6%. I gear down and start to pedal with Tom approximately 50 yards behind me. My face is not looking at the scenery but instead I'm locked on the pavement concentrating on the rhythm of the climb. Since leaving Chicago I've started to learn a thing or two about gearing. I'm in a 39/27 gear and I'm spinning comfortably at 80 rpm. This means that I'm climbing Eagle Canyon Road at about 9.5 miles/hour. The climb is "sit and spin". Any steeper and I have to stand on the pedals and crank. Tom has now dropped about 100 yards behind.

Now, about a third of the way up the climb, I'm having a moral dilemma. If I slow for Tom I'll have to drop my cadence below 80 rpm. This lets my lungs relax but my legs will be forced to muscle their way along in slow motion. If I decide to speed up then my cadence increases above 90 rpm, I go anaerobic and my body starts to burn like a candle. Cycling is sometimes a numbers game that would make a baseball fanatic happy.

Today I feel like the Gringo. I've ridden the climb before and I know my limits. My cadence is good and I don't want to burn up my legs by slowing. I'm about half way up the climb and feeling strong. There are no cars on this road. No one has any reason to go to the Indian land on the other side of the hill. There are no strip malls or restaurants only a half-dozen rows of government built houses. I can ride down the middle of the road and I do. Tom is now back several switchbacks and is slowing.

At the top I slow and hop off my bike. On one side is the urban sprawl of the north side of Reno. Multicolored roofs denote each new development. On my other side is the barren Hungry Valley. The Indian colony where 500 people live seems tiny compared to the mountain range to the west. A truck in the distance is the only sign of activity in Hungry Valley. A plume of dust, probably cryptobiotic soil years before, streams behind the speeding vehicle. Massive Peavine Peak stares down at me from twenty miles west. Although I am happy with my climb, the valleys and mountains make me feel insignificant.

Tom comes up huffing and puffing. He explains that he is not feeling well today and, after a brief exchange he turns and begins to descend the Eagle Canyon road. I am alone under the big sky in the middle of the road. I can follow Tom down or ride over to the reservation land. I choose to continue on. I hop on my bike and begin to fly down the side of the mountain, alone, smiling, and going much to fast down the middle of the road.