Six Gapped in Georgia

The nine-hour drive to Dahlonega started early, spurred on by a 6 pm EDT deadline for early check-in at the town square. With Ed N., Mignon and me in the big back seat of Kenny's truck, five of us left NOLA bright and early. For the three of us, it would be our first Six Gap Centry, and if the stories were to be believed, it wouldn't be easy. As always happens on these kind of road trips, the conversation on the way there was non-stop, and before we knew it the "low fuel" warning light was on and we were already closing in on Atlanta. We exited the interstate to find most gas stations out of gas or with hour-long lines of cars, so we turned around and headed back toward Alabama while Candy worked the Garmin and the cellphone, calling gas stations to find out who had gas. Finally, a good 20 miles in the wrong direction, we filled up at a little station on a state highway. Luckily, we were running ahead of schedule and arrived in Dahlonega with plenty of time to sign in. In fact, we even went out for a little ten mile spin to help get our legs working again after the long drive.

Saturday night we stayed at the awesome home of a business consultant of Steve's, but by 6 am we were up and ready to head off to the high school where the ride was to start. The huge parking lot was nearly full, but we got a nice spot on the periphery and hurried though our last-minute preparations. The sun had still not quite risen when we arrived. I put a full flask of Hammergel in my jersey pocket, along with an "emergency" Powerbar, my camera, and a business card on which I had written the distances to the tops of each of the six "gaps" we'd be climbing. As the click ticked down to our 7:30 am start, I told everyone we needed to get our butts down to the starting line so we wouldn't end up stuck at the back of a group that numbered in the thousands. Kenny was still getting ready, so I told him we'd see him at the start and the rest of us headed down to the staging area. As we came out of the parking lot I was amazed at the sea of helmets between the start line and ourselves, but using my finely honed Mardi Gras parade skills we worked our way through the masses and got within a couple hundred riders of the front. Mignon walked calmly down the hill while the rest of us, including Steve with his historically significant helmet number, elbowed our way into the group. I looked over at Ed and told him, "Kenny's going to come riding down the grass in a minute." Right on cue, I saw Kenny riding down the sidewalk toward the front and motioned to our group to follow. We squeezed our way in right near the front just before they said "go." Everyone clipped in and as I melded with the sea of riders it was pretty much the last I saw of any of our group except Kenny. For the first half of this ride it would be nearly impossible to turn around and look back without risking a crash. In fact, I wasn't able to take many photos at all since it seemed like I was always either climbing some impossible grade or flying down a descent at twice the speed limit.

The first 20 miles leading up to the first of the big climbs felt a lot like a race, except much bigger and a whole lot more sketchy. At the bottoms of the downhills you could smell the burning brake shoe rubber as riders refused to yield their positions. This whole time I was trying to keep an eye on Kenny who was a bit ahead of me. It was impossible to look back to see where the rest of the group was. In many ways, this was the most tense part of the whole ride.

Finally, the first climb started and I remember thinking, "this isn't so bad." Ha! Little did I know..... Soon everything got very quiet as the group strung out and the grade steepened. Five or six miles later we came over the top more or less intact and flew down the first real downhill. There was more burning brake shoe rubber, and before I knew it we were on the next long uphill. This time things strung out even more and I got to try out the 25 tooth cog that I've been hauling around all year but never using. All this time there were probably 50 to 100 riders ahead of me, yet I still felt like I was doing a good job of staying toward the "front." It's all relative, I guess. A fairly big group seemed to separate itself on this climb, and so on the next downhill I found myself working with a number of other riders to catch back up to it. It took a few miles, but we finally made contact with what I presume was the front group. There were still a few riders around me who I knew - Stanley Prutz from Baton Rouge and Donald Davis from the Jeep team, along with Bruce Sanders and a few of his teammates who he was working with in order to get them in under their 6-hour goal.

The next climb seemed similar to the one before it, but things were starting to thin out a bit and I was starting to feel my legs more. This one seemed like a repeat of the prior climb, and those of us in the "second" group had a bit of chasing to do on the downhill in order to latch back on to the relative safety of the front group. On the plus side, the descent down Unicoi Gap was about the most fun I've ever had on a bicycle. It was like being on a roller coaster that just went downhill, and I kept getting stuck behind other riders who were, IMHO, being way too timid about the turns. Anyway, by the time we caught, I already knew my time with this group would be coming to an end soon.

The 9-mile 7-mile (just seemed like nine) climb up the infamous Hogpen Gap shattered the back half of the group really early, and by the time I was halfway up I found myself completely alone. It was completely silent and kind of eerie, and nothing at all like what I'd expected. There was a pretty big group somewhere way up ahead of me that I would never see again, but looking back I could see only one or two lone riders struggling up the climb like me. I was in my lowest gear, 39 x 25, climbing at an unimpressive 6 or 7 mph, peering out through sweat smeared sunglasses at a truly beautiful countryside. A couple of miles before the top there's a little downhill, and just before I got there another rider came up from behind. We rode together for a little while, but when we got to the downhill he took off as if there was a finish line coming up, so I let him go. The last couple of miles to the top of Hogpen was the steepest and that last mile seemed to take forever. Kenny's friend Candy was standing there at the top and she said I looked pretty bad. When she asked if I needed anything I could offer only a grunt that I'm sure was completely unintelligible. I guess I probably did! I came over the top alone and for most of the remaining 40 miles it stayed that way. By that point my legs were pretty much toast and every time there was any sort of significant climb I'd just dump it straight into the 25 and try to spin. I was hoping that there would be a nice little group somewhere that I could ride with, but surprisingly it never materialized. Instead, single riders would occasionally catch up to and pass me. I was amazed how many of those riders were guys I know! They would all say "hi Randy" as they went by, but at that point in the ride I think we were all kind of locked into whatever pace we could handle, and speeding up or slowing down, even by just one or two mph, was just not an option.

As I struggled up the last big climb, Wolfpen Gap, at around mile 75, Bruce rode up from behind and said "let's work together." I thought that was a great idea, except for the fact that he was going a couple miles per hour faster than I could go! So I let him go pretty quickly and plodded along alone again.

For the last 20 or 30 miles there were a lot of "3-Gappers" who were doing the shorter version of the ride, and I was constantly passing them. Most of them made my sluggish pace seem blazingly fast by comparison. The final long downhill from Woody Gap, which was by far the shortest and easiest of the "Gaps," was fast and long and smooth, and in years past that would have taken me right to the finish, but this year they had changed the route, adding a few miles and a number of little climbs. Even so, by the time I was fifteen miles from the end I was starting to feel a little better, no doubt because it was probably about 80% downhill!

So I ended up finishing up at around 5:44 according to my watch, which was maybe fifteen minutes slower than I'd have liked, but honestly I doubt I could have gone any faster. The first rider finished this year in 5:09. Kenny, Ed, Rolan, Steve, Mignon and Brady all finished the full century. Kenny recorded an awesome video coming down Unicoi Gap. You can see it at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rQsQHaMdlPE. If you tend to get seasick, however, you probably should pop a Dramamine first. Whatever you do, keep watching at least until the part with the cars! Bruce, who was riding with him when he did that video, eventually caught and passed me.

Notes from Six Gap:

• Kenny and Ed are actually able to talk nonstop for nine hours.
• Dahlonega needs a Starbucks.
• A 13 x 26 cassette might actually be worth the money (but I still want that 12).
• Flying downhill on twisty roads at 50 mph is almost better than sex.
• A cold Coke after a long hard ride is almost better than flying downhill on twisty roads at 50 mph.
• Standing in a line of six naked guys waiting for a shower is just weird.
• I can ride 103 miles on a full flask of HammerGel and two water bottles without bonking.
• My derailleur definitely needs some adjustment and I think my chain stretched over the weekend.
• Mignon is a whole lot tougher than she looks.
• A big Starbucks mocha frappacino with whipped cream immediately after Mexican fast food is not a good idea.