From the Valley to the Sky: a 7300' ascent out of Maricopa, CA

Back in October, I rode one of the largest (if not the largest) paved ascents in California. It's 90 minutes south of Cal Poly, so I convinced two of my college buddies, Francis Britschgi (Class of 18') and Mark Yaroshevsky (Class of 21') to join me. We rode from the little town of Maricopa to the top of Cerro Noroeste (aka Mt. Abel), one of the highest summits in the Western Transverse Ranges. I was pondering how I wanted to tell how it all went down (or up), but after listening to Commander Cody's rendition of Hot Rod Lincoln, it dawned on me. So, I ended up writing the following:

I’ll tell you a story, and it ain’t no lie
Bout the day I rode my bike from the valley to the sky
Over seven thousand feet and thirty five miles I travelled
From Maricopa up to the top of Mt. Abel

We started in the morning in the little oil town.
It was half-past nine, there was no one around
It was just me, young Mark and Ol’ Francis
Three of California’s finest pedal dancers.

Well, I looked at the road
Then I looked at the sky
Then we looked at each other
So I said with a sigh

“Alright boys, let this ride begin”
And we set off down the road at a nice brisk spin.
Straight up highway 33 we rode,
Through the rolling hills where the grass was like gold.

Nothin’ was there but them and I
And of course, the occasional passin’ semi
So 11 miles later, two thousand feet up,
We made one left turn after waiting for a truck

On to Hudson Ranch Road we went
Ol’ Francis was quickly becoming spent
He’d partied for the whole night before
When we hit that pine forest he couldn’t pedal no more

Then was just me and Mark, ya see?
Way out there in Western Kern County
Hammering up the stair step-like rollers
Knowin’ there were thousands of feet before us

By the time we’d ridden to Apache Saddle,
We’d fought a bit more than half of the battle
Making the second turn at six thousand feet,
Young Mark was quickly becoming more and more beat

Mark started to drop back and I knew from the wait
That if I didn’t keep going I’d suffer the same fate
So I told the youngin’ that I’d keep right on climbin’
Except in that moment there wasn’t quite as much rhymin’

I said I’d stop at the top and catch my breath for a while,
Then I’d drop back down for a proper dog-mile
So I kept on pushing, onwards and upwards
Till it was just me amongst the conifers and the blind turns

After nearly three hours of constant ascent
I too was feeling pretty damn bent.
Crosseyed and tired, morale getting frayed
I stared right back at that 8% grade.

Distracted and bleary, brain lactate-addled
Pinecones on the road nearly threw me from my saddle
The hairpins seemed endless, the forest closed in
When all seemed to be lost is when I reached the end.

The uphill just stopped and the road became flat.
It looped around some picnic tables and came right on back
I rolled to an overlook, a break in the trees
And I saw a sight I couldn’t believe

The Central Valley, coast ranges and badlands before me
The high sierras, gleaming, stately, and snowy
Cuyama and Carrizo, flat and forgotten
Arroyos and salt pans, bone-dry in the hot sun.

But I’m a man of my word, I don’t act on a lark
So I turned around and rolled down to get Mark.
To my surprise, it was just a short while,
Mark was only behind by a mile.

So we pedaled back up and I showed him the view
So he’d understand why I do what I do
He saw the expanse and he understood
Why we rode from the desert up into the woods

The way down was a grand old time
Francis made it to the car and was tired but fine
So we loaded back up and drove home to the coast
Happy as could be, but our legs were toast

The moral of the story
is if you seek you’ll find
And it’s a bad idea
To mix big climbs and box wine

And at the end of the day
When you’re sore, tired, and pulverized
It’s worth the effort and more
When the dream’s realized.