No chain(s)

“No chain” is the now-famous line from George Hincapie in the book, It’s Not About the Bike. The words were simple code for Hincapie to describe to Lance Armstrong a training ride that felt so easy, so smooth, so groovy that, well, it was as if the bike had no chain. In my cycling life, I can recall a dozen rides during which the bike I pedaled felt like it had no chain. Unfortunately, each of those times was when the chain flew off the big ring during a bad shift.

But today, everything changed. Forever. I laughed at an ominous warning sign near the base of South Grade Road on Palomar Mountain. I defied advice (without breaking the law) and rode an hors catégorie climb while motorists without snow tires were instructed to put on chains. Yes, I visited winter cycling heaven up at 5,200 feet, in San Diego County. For the first time I can ever recall, no high-speed motorcycles buzzed me. No sports car drivers played Formula 1 fantasy games. Not one single 4×4 machine that looks ready to go to war throttled with such a force that my helmet vibrated. It was that kind of perfect day. Ever had one? I may never experience such a Zen moment on the bike at colder-than-normal temps. Oddly enough, it started with a half-baked phone call I put out Friday afternoon: There’s snow on Palomar Mountain — and we need to ride it. All the way to the top, if they’ll let us. Cycling buddy Troy Malone suggested we get motoring to a staging area in Valley Center at 7 a.m. It was a brilliant decision. I set the alarm for 5:30 a.m.

The air was perfect, in the mid-40s, as we rolled out. A few apparel adjustments by Troy as we hit the first orange groves section of the 11-mile-4,200-foot ascent of the mountain, and we were in the zone. Almost zero traffic. We saw four cyclists descending on Highway 76. Surely they hadn’t ridden to the top and were now making their way home? No way. It gave me a second to wonder how far we’d get. From the valley, the mountain looked like a postcard. Friendly clouds hugged the ridge line. The sky put on its bluest blue. A week of intense rain storms behind us, we pushed onward into the unknown. We knew where we wanted to go (the top), but wondered: Would road barriers block us? Could we stay upright and safely climb the steepest 10% sections? And oh, were we out of our minds for even dreaming of doing this ride? We didn’t know all the answers. But we knew we had made a pact: climb.

And so we did. As we navigated the wide-open switchbacks and reached the 3,500-foot mark, a California Highway Patrol car with flashing blue and red lights blocked the lane. The smiling officer instructed car drivers to pull over and put on chains — or turnaround and go back down. Trucks and SUVs with four-wheel drive had the option to continue with chains. A sign at the 2,800-foot mark had warned about the need for chains. But it said nothing about bikes. “You can probably go about another mile, then the black ice gets really bad,” the officer offered. Bummer. Another mile would put us just beyond 4,000-foot mark — nowhere close to the top. We pedaled on. And on. Suddenly past the 5,000-foot elevation sign. Into the clouds. Skyward toward a perfectly positioned sun and amid falling ice from pine branches above. The tarmac was slushy in parts, but more than suitable for my Vittoria Paves and bike-handling skills. Only in the final few switchbacks, did remnants from mother nature’s overnight storm pose a danger. I dismounted like a cyclocross rider once to neutralize any chance of toppling over. As the top came into focus, I started to realize. We were going to make it. The idea had been far from silly. It was fortuitous. An opportunity to ride with no chains. And experience a rare slice of winter cycling heaven. Here are the Garmin Connect stats. A quick iPhone video here shows conditions at the summit.

This way to the top

View from 2,000 feet

Good times with cycling buddy Troy Malone

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