I wake up to a fleeting view of the peak. It looks high and its not clear where the road even goes, but I’m determined to make it to the top so I get packed and start creeping up the slope to the first switchback. Here I run into a problem, the last 70kms or so had been gravel, but with enough hard ground that I could generally find a smooth, solid line of road to stick to. Here at the switchback the entire road was coated with loose rocks and gravel. At the speeds I was going any time one of the wheels went over a big enough rock it would get spat out and the bike would jerk down in an unpredictable manner. To make matters worse, between the weight of my bike, the tendency for the rear tire to spin out, and the sheer steepness of the road, the only safe way to mount the bike after a stop was to park it horizontally across the road and then do a sharp turn to get going in the right direction again. This wasn’t exactly safe, as it involved cycling towards the edge of a steep cliff before turning sharply and slowly in the loose gravel.
After the first switchback I gave up and decided to push it up until the road got better. It didn’t. It got worse if anything. Forget about cycling, hiking on this road was a pretty dicey affair. Nonetheless, I pressed on and slowly pushed the bike up switchback after switchback. The fog rolled in and out so I could get glimpses of the valley below me and the peak ahead, but never at the same time. Occasionally a car or van would rumble by, but otherwise I was alone on this lonely road into the mountains.
About halfway up I started to push the bike after a short rest, and much to my surprise, the right brake lever depressed all the way to the handlebar. I let go of the left lever and the bike rolled back. Sure enough, the front brakes weren’t functioning. I panicked for a moment. There was a 15% descent waiting for me on the other side of the mountain range and I sure as hell wasn’t going down that with just the rear brakes. My first thought was that the cable had snapped, but on inspection everything seemed fine. Then I checked the brakes themselves and in an instant I worked out what had happened. So the thing about rim brakes, is that they are very easy to replace. You take the slightly curved rubber brake pad, and you slide it into a little bracket that has an opening at the back. You then insert a little pin to keep the brake pad from moving around, but since the opening is at the back the action of braking pushes the brake pad forward to ensure it doesn’t pop out. On my hike up this giant hill though, I was constantly using the brakes to stop the bike from rolling backwards, and eventually this caused both the pin and the brake pad to slip backwards out of the bracket. I looked behind me and sure enough, there was my brake pad amongst the gravel and dirt. I found a rock to prop the bike up and went looking for the pin, but it was nowhere to be found. I popped the brake pad back in and made a mental note to favour the rear brakes for the time being.
Eventually the fog started to move about more dramatically, giving me a better look at my surroundings. The scenery had certainly changed, from grassy hills and scenic streams to bare rock and snow. I was definitely making progress.
Three more switchbacks and I was at the peak. The fog had spoiled any chance of a good view, but I did my best to try and capture the horror road I had just conquered. As I was shooting the fog started to move upwards at an alarming pace. I quickly hopped back onto the bike and rode down from the peak as the fog rolled up and over.
From here it was all easy coasting, as I passed the relatively flat center of the mountain range, then out to the start of the steep descent on the other side. Fog and clouds nestled in the valleys below me, so I had no real gauge of how high up I was until I hit the other side, where I could sneak a peak at the valley below through the rolling fog.
The ride down was on a slightly nicer road surface so I coasted down to the base, where upon I decided to do a bit of hiking out to a seaside cliff made of Rhyolite, a type of volcanic rock that is often very colourful. The hike involved several kilometres of marshland and the cliffs were not as impressive as hoped, so I wasn’t overly happy and more importantly was completely exhausted. This didn’t stop me from smashing out another 20 kilometres riding up the dead flat road next to a massive river flood plain, but it did mean that when I came across a dedicated campsite I did not hesitate to stop right there for the night.
It was about midnight at this point and the campsite had a real bathroom; showers, towels, everything. I took over this bathroom with all manner of accessories that needed charging, had a nice long shower, and then went straight to bed.
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