Pedaling like a pro? Reporter takes on part of race route

Wannabe's sampling of tour course is tough, but worth it.

Published online on Wednesday, Feb. 11, 2009

America’s biggest bike race pedals through our area next week, and already you can hear the critics barking from their Barcaloungers.

“It’s just riding a bike,” they inevitably say. “How hard can it be?”

How hard can it be?

In the interest of public health, safety and most of all curiosity, I decided to find out.

Stage 4 of the Tour of California starts Wednesday morning in Merced and ends that afternoon in Clovis. Organizers wanted to add a dash of the Sierra Nevada to the race, so they chose a spicy, 115-mile route that winds through Mariposa and Oakhurst before heading south.

Here’s how Jonathan Vaughters, who runs Garmin-Slipstream, one of eight Pro Tour teams in the field, sizes it up:

“That’s going to be a very hard stage — if the weather’s crappy, it could even be the decisive day in the TOC,” he says.

“None of the climbs on their own are particularly dangerous. But put them all together and that can make for a pretty rough environment.”

Remember, Vaughters is talking about professionals and I’m a guy who rides to the supermarket for chicken wings. So the decision is made to tackle Crane Valley Road, Stage 4’s longest climb.

From Highway 41 in the middle of Oakhurst, Crane Valley Road (also Road 426) gains some 1,600 feet in elevation as it ascends 7.5 miles to a hump in the ridge below Goat Mountain called Teaford Saddle. (When Road 426 turns toward Bass Lake, the route joins Road 223.)

In hiking boots, 1,600 feet in 7.5 miles wouldn’t be too big a deal. But who knows how these unshaven, untrained legs will respond to their first serious road climb in years.

Crane Valley Road begins innocently enough as commercial areas give way to churches, PG&E stations and houses with large lots. In one of them, two Appaloosa horses run free, bristling with energy.

My energy level is fine, but right away I’m jealous of the closed course guys like Lance and Levi get to ride. Hugging the narrow shoulder, I get the impression that everyone in town drives a full-sized crew cab with dual rear wheels.

Around a bend and the road suddenly gets steeper. Time to find a lower gear. Three miles in, and I can already feel the lactic acid gurgling in my legs.

Half a mile later, and now the lungs start to go. A handmade road sign that says “Vulture’s View” feels apropos because this body is dead tired.

The speedometer hovers between 6 and 8 mph. Later, I learn that Tour of California riders will be doing 18 to 20 mph on the same stretch of asphalt. And they’ll be pedaling in their big ring.

Three miles below the top, physiology and gravity prevail. I do something no cyclist worth their lycra would consider: stop and rest.

There are no TV cameras, commentators or spectators (besides the guy tending to the burn pile in his front yard) but it’s humbling nonetheless.

Hunched over the handlebars and panting for breath like a dog that’s chased one Frisbee too many, I think about the pros who will be tapping out an easy rhythm on these same slopes.

Or not.

“On short climbs, they can just kind of punch through them by hitting it really hard,” Vaughters says.

Breathing a little easier, I climb back on the bike and keep pedaling. It’s gotten cooler suddenly and there are more pine trees about, a sure sign of elevation.

Sweat pours into my eyes as the road finally crests and heads downhill to the Bass Lake turnoff. Only the final hump remains.

Reaching Teaford Saddle feels rewarding but also anticlimactic — there isn’t even a road sign. But it’s still a gorgeous afternoon — nothing but blue skies overhead — and the entire town of Oakhurst can be seen far below through a gap in the ridge.

If the weather is this nice next week, it’ll make Chamber of Commerce-types very happy.

Although Clovis is some 40 miles away, it’s the end of the road for this wannabe. Now pointed downhill, it takes a mere 15 minutes to cover the same ground that ate up more than a hour going up.

A couple days later, Tour of California race announcer Dave Towle laughs into the phone when I tell him about my journalistic endeavor.

“Just because you shoot baskets once in a while doesn’t mean you can play in the NBA,” Towle says.

“It’s the same way with cycling. Anyone can ride a bike. But you try riding it that fast and that long, day after day. Forget it.”

Seldom have truer words been spoken.

Anyone who doubts how difficult cycling is can join me next time.