Ronde PDX, round two

Last Saturday I took my second Tour of West Portlandia by bicycle, riding all uphill (at least it seemed that way) for over five hours to finally gain the summit of Council Crest in a spring downpour.

Inspired by Belgium's Tour of Flanders, or Ronde van Vlaanderen, this unofficial, un-permitted, free ride is not sponsored, hosted, or condoned by anyone. The route is marked only by subtle yellow lions painted on the streets. I talked to one guy who said this is his third year riding the non-event, but he's never finished because he always loses the route. He told me this just moments before I watched him ride straight past a hard left turn. I yelled after him, but he didn't hear me. Maybe he'll finish properly next year.

Two climbs reach 22% grade or thereabouts and are only rideable by those with very small gears and/or very large thighs and lungs. The common technique is to insert switchbacks to shallow the grade, stopping to rest in a blessedly level driveway which is then used as a launch pad for the next attack. A third of the way up Brynwood, a climb I've never ridden in entirety, I looked back as I gasped and heaved over my handlebars to see if there was anyone behind me. Some were employing the switchback technique, a couple guys were pushing their bikes, and one was sitting in the middle of the road, legs out in front of him.

The only aid on the 50-mile course was a strategically placed beer stop manned by volunteers from The Pixie Project. They wisely suspected that desperate and delirious cyclists would be willing to pitch in a few bucks for their dog adoption mission in return for PB&J triangles and generous droughts of a tasty local brew. A few stayed too long and were later seen weaving precariously down steep hills toward the river.

The last few miles were a big tease. The marked route wanders temptingly close to Council Crest, it's radio towers rising just overhead, then dips wildly down toward the river only to lurch upward again. It continues this cycle several more times than you feel is necessary before finally pointing up a steep, narrow switchback of a road toward the summit.

The finish is anticlimactic. Once you arrive at Portland's highest point, you have to get yourself back to your car, house, or wherever it is that you came from. Riders hang out for short periods of time to cheer on the latest arrivals, but cold sets in and they're forced to move along for survival's sake. I started out with a few friends who dispersed along the way. Hans was just faster, Steve and Gary opted for alternate routes to avoid the gravel road climb to Skyline. I saw familiar faces and had company for most of the ride, including Alex, a friend of a friend who I met at said friend's party the night before. At the end, I tagged along with a few guys in Filth and Fury kits for moral support.

All in all, a Portland cycling classic that weeds out the weak and gauges your pre-summer fitness.