Midnight Madness Reprise on Going to the Sun

Last night the weather was perfect, albeit a little cold, for a last midnight bike ride up Going to the Sun. This time I started at the Avalanche parking lot, hoping that I would see others and have some bear scaring company for the first part of the hill climb. Unfortunately it wasn't to be, so I headed out solo at around 11 pm, with late fall clothing. I was wearing thermal tops and bottoms, my jacket, hat and gloves, and I really needed every stitch of clothing, since it got really cold.

Before the tunnel I encountered a frantic man looking for his wife who started the hill climb from the other side at 7:30. He stopped me to ask if I had seen a woman riding solo, and told me that he was deathly afraid of heights. Fortunately just as I took off again, she showed up. She miscalculated when the moon would be high.

The moonlight wasn't quite as bright as on Tuesday, but it was still an amazing thing to see the celestial high beams come on as I turned a corner. It's both eerie and serene to ride this hill in the moonlight.

Last night I encountered around 20 cyclists going from east to west and less than 10 going in my direction. I was significantly less nervous, and the climb was uneventful except for a few clueless drivers who forgot to turn off their high beams.

I had two animal sightings last night, both in the car. On the way to Avalanche I spotted a bear cub near the water, and on the way back to the campground just before 2 am I saw a fox in the middle of the road. What a beautiful creature!

Today we're taking the shuttle to Logan Pass and will be attempting the high line trail. Gail is gung ho about testing her limits, but I promised that we'd turn around if she had mixed feelings. It's another beautiful day at Glacier, and that's lucky because it's our last day here. Tomorrow it's off to Sheridan, Wyoming.

Going to the Sun Road midnight moonlit hillclimb

The weather has been perfect here at Glacier, and even though July 31 wasn’t the full moon, I decided that it was close enough to do my first moonlit Going to the Sun hill climb since the last time 21 years ago, just before I met Gail. I was incredibly nervous and filled with self-doubt in the hours leading up to last night’s ride. The climb itself isn’t dangerous, but it takes on a completely different dimension at night. There’s wildlife, illumination, and the road construction to take into consideration, as well as dipping temperatures and sheer drop-offs.

I arrived at Lake McDonald Lodge at 10 pm. The lodge is 21 miles and 3,430 vertical feet away from the Logan Pass summit and my turnaround point. I nervously took inventory of my gear and waited for other cyclists to show up. Surely there would be others on such a perfect night.

In addition to the leg warmers that I wore for the whole ride, I packed arm warmers and lightweight winter cycling gloves, as well as an additional long-sleeved layer. For illumination I had my trusty Cat Eye Opticube headlamp and a blinky taillight. I took two spare tubes and a Clif bar, and wore my clear bike glasses and favorite wool socks.

At 10:55 I still didn’t see any cyclists approaching, but was hopeful that maybe there were others who started further up by Avalanche, so I hit the road. The moon was bright and was finally above the tall pines, so I thought there would be plenty of moonlight to guide me for the first 11 flat miles, but I was very much mistaken. This section of road is densely forested so the moonlight was largely obscured. A number of cars were passing me west-bound, and at least two of them didn’t switch off their high beams, which was more than a little scary, since I had a hard time seeing where the shoulder was. My biggest concern at this stretch was an unwelcome chance encounter on some bears, but fortunately I saw no wildlife until later.

After Avalanche was startled by what I thought to be a bright headlight from a car. I turned around and instead saw an awe-inspiring moon illuminating the road brilliantly, and my spirits soared. From that point forward I had ample moonlight, and in fact I set my light to its low setting so that moonlight would be my primary source of light for the rest of the trip.

Shortly after Avalanche the climb really started, and the average grade for the 11 miles to the summit was 5.3%, a very manageable climb. Just past the only tunnel, I passed a couple on mountain bikes, which buoyed my spirits. They started at Avalanche, so I figured that there might be others.

As I passed The Loop, the only switchback on the west side of the pass, I noticed a bunch of people in the parking lot as well as some other cyclists, so I was hopeful that I would encounter others. My next encounter was with wildlife—a mountain goat was nibbling grass on the edge of the cliff, but skittered down the mountain as soon has it heard me.

Next up was the road construction, and the road surface went from smooth pavement to hard-packed dirt. The dirt sections were completely manageable for the ascent, though they proved a bit trickier on the descent. There were sections where the road narrowed to one lane and I encountered a few ridiculous traffic lights on long timers. Dear reader, you might guess what I did.

With about 2,000’ to go, I encountered a lively group riding at a leisurely pace. It was a party on wheels, with about ten cyclists having a blast, listening to music and joking around. I think I scared some of them as I passed, though I tried to made sufficient noise. It felt good to occupy the whole road for a minute, but I wanted to continue at my pace to the summit.

The rest of the climb was serene and uneventful, as the sky got ever brighter in the other-worldly moonlit mountain range. The summit was a bit anti-climatic, and after a quick minute break to eat my Clif bar, I headed back down, this time with arm warmers on, since it was getting much cooler. When I reached the big group, I turned around to join them for a short bit. They were from Kalispell, and even though they had to work in the morning, they were really enjoying their adventure. This group started at The Loop, so their climb was a bit shorter. They had some good advice about how to find others for a possible second time up the mountain and were exceedingly friendly and filled with good cheer.

The descent was very slow—my mantra was that it’s better that it’s a slow descent than my last descent. Managing the road construction was much tougher on the descent, and I was riding the brakes quite a bit, which left my shoulder and neck muscles really tense. I was actually relieved when the road finally leveled out, and just powered my way back to the safety of the car.

On the way back to the campground, I stopped by Apgar Village briefly to upload my ride to Strava. I was pleasantly surprised that I snagged the KOM for the HC climb, and with that happy thought I hopped into the tent at around 2:30 am in hopes of getting a little sleep before the morning arrived. I hope to do the climb one more time, maybe on Thursday starting from Avalanche.

Fern Lake Trail, Rocky Mountain National Park

Gail writes:

Last night was chilly and soggy. There was a middle-of-the-night downpour that made things kind of damp in the tent, and the temperature dipped down into the upper 40s. We were all bundled up this morning, but Armin’s terrific breakfast of omelets and potatoes warmed us up quickly.

We got the campsite tidied up and headed out for our first Rockies hike. We walked about a mile and a half to the Fern Lake trailhead and from there we hiked 2.4 miles to Fern Falls. Most of the hike was pretty easy, but there was an uphill section at the end that was a bit challenging. We’re at about 8000 feet, so the boys and I were feeling the altitude a bit. The scenery was gorgeous—some of the peaks still have traces of snow, and for most of the hike we were walking alongside the Big Thompson River. Our return trek down the trail was pretty speedy, and Armin went ahead to retrieve the car.  He met us at the trailhead and we ate a quick lunch in the car on our way to Estes Park to enjoy some post-hiking ice cream. The boys logged just under 7 miles and were troopers (though footsore!).

Estes Park is a tourist mecca, chock full of quaint (as well as tacky) shops selling t-shirts, taffy, and belt buckles. We enjoyed people-watching as we strolled. Some of the folks visiting town clearly do not intend to go on any hikes or venture off paved surfaces, while others looked like they might have come straight out of the backcountry. My favorite was the late-teen hipster quartet (shaved eyebrows on one, saggy pants on another) trying very hard to look cool and disaffected while they licked their ice cream cones.

We got back to camp in the late afternoon and decanted our cooler, stove, and food out of the car. One thing about camping in bear country is that you always have to secure any food items (or anything with a scent) in the car when you’re asleep or away from camp. It makes things a little more work, but it’s preferable to having a bear snuffle around your campsite.

I did make one of the best camping meals ever: I simmered quinoa with some water and a packet of Rajma Masala (kidney beans in tomato-ey sauce) and threw in some diced sautéed tofu. The boys may have had mac & cheese, but Armin and I enjoyed our protein-packed quinoa delight. Tomorrow we’ll try the vegetarian equivalent of a weenie roast, since the park has lifted the fire ban. We just hope that the local Safeway sells veggie dogs!

Tomorrow we’ll try to get an early start and take the park shuttle to a trail near Bear Lake.  We’ll hike a shorter distance, around 3 miles, and maybe head up to the higher altitude alpine tundra after lunch.

Armin writes:

Yes, it’s time for the cycling update. Bear Lake Rd. is under construction for the first 5 miles, but I thought it would be worth exploring in the afternoon after our first hiking adventure. The National Park Service is discouraging car traffic on this 1600’ climb, so I figured that if I could get past the rugged dirt section, it would be just fine. Sure enough, it was a good move. As soon as I passed the section of construction at around 8300’, the climb got outrageously fun with hardly any traffic to contend with. There was a steady climb averaging around 5 to 6% grade with a bunch of switchbacks and terrific mountain views. The descent could have been better however—I was stuck behind a very tentative driver for most of it. Evidently I have become acclimated to the altitude now, since I didn’t feel at all stressed during this ride. I’m looking forward to more climbing in the next few days, especially Trail Ridge Rd., which will take me across the Continental Divide.