It was finally time. To step up. To demonstrate my commitment to the next level. In other words, to go all the way. All the way up Fraser and Genting.
Foolishly --no, actually, I just didn't have time-- I had set myself up on a compact crank and a 11/25 cassette. Ok for Fraser, slightly maniacal for Genting, which is reputed to be, as I've said, one of the harder climbs the cycling world has to offer. I've lost track of the number of people who'd advised me to affix larger sprockets to my machine. No matter, I said to myself, what was the worst that could happen? I'd have to WALK? Big deal.
As it turned out, Fraser was in fact very doable although we did it at the hottest period of the afternoon. I had company almost all the way from Kota Kuala Bharu at the base of Fraser Hill, initially staying with Pascal, who later dropped back, his lack of recent miles showing. Later, I caught up with co-virgin Wendy and together we encouraged each other to the top. I encouraged her overtly and she encouraged me probably not even realising that she was, just by her very presence and grit. (She's a true inspiration, as I found out later, rendered almost teary-eyed and lumpy-throated by her story.)
Wendy threw in the towel at the Gap. This is the point at which the two-lane road turns into a one-lane road that opens to traffic only in one direction at a time. From here onwards, the road turns a little steeper. It's only (only!) 8-ish more kilometres to the top, which doesn't seem like much for someone who's already done 30-ish kilometres uphill. But as I said, it suddenly gets steeper and narrower. A sudden heavy downpour added another element to the mix and the cherry on top was my running out of water. I begged some water from passing comrades but didn't want to impose by taking more than a few gulps. Our charter bus caught up with me at one point and I stopped to ask for a refill only to be told by our drivers, quite incredibly, to keep going.
So I did.
The heavens continued to gush down and I opened my mouth, not panting now, just swallowing the fresh sweat-diluted water. With 5 km to go, I considered getting down on all fours and drinking water off the road. It would have been clean, such was the volume of liquid pouring out of the sky, but the prospect of a vehicle hurtling up the path failing to see me and giving me a smart bump up the unmentionables dissuaded me.
Chugging on, at about the 3km mark, the road suddenly levelled off. Hardly able to believe it, I shifted up a couple of notches on my cassette and sped up. It didn't last long but the ride was nearly done by this time and the increase in speed was very encouraging. I didn't have my speedo on so I don't have any ride stats. Will update this post later if I ever get down to doing the calculations.
Later that evening, our friend Michel, who is a pilates instructor and a very fast rider, showed a few of us his usual nightly stretching routine. What a miracle-worker. The next morning, I felt none of the usual aches and pains. Even a muscle ache that had built up in my left gluteus muscles (the buttock for the anatomy-challenged) because of an incorrectly adjusted handlebar disappeared come morning!
it was time for Genting. And time for another blog post.
Having climbed up Fraser the afternoon before, I was relishing the prospect of hurtling down to the bottom before climbing up Genting. Slightly mad, no doubt, but can you blame me? I was first down to Kota Kuala Bharu with an average of about 34 km/h and a max of 65 km/h. Before you ask, the 65 wasn't down a curvy hill road; it was coming down a long straight downhill stretch after the dam. And I wasn't even panting! I love this gear setup. Up boleh, down oso can.
Getting down to the bottom before anyone else has its disadvantages. I had to wait three or four minutes before the next fastest group made it down and nearly an hour before the last of our group got there, partly because Pascal had decided to make his mark on the hill :-) Read about it elsewhere.
Then came the scary part: going up Genting. After a short flat bit to the bottom bit, the pack got strung out. With my max of a 25-tooth sprocket, I wanted to stay a few cogs up so that I could have the satisfaction of shifting down to an easier gear further up the slopes. It didn't last long. I was down to my last cog but one pretty soon and then down to the largest and easiest cog soon after.
Grinding up the slopes, strangely, I didn't cramp and I didn't hurt (that much). I just kept grinding and felt tired and thirsty. At which point, I'd stop and eat a little, sip a little water. I didn't want to walk. I wasn't cramping so walking just seemed pointless. I preferred to just be slow up to the top.
To cut a long story, I did make it to the top. On a compact and an 11/25 cassette! My average dropped from the aforementioned 34 to a 21 to the top of Genting. So what. I made it to the top and that's all that counts. Next time --next time???-- maybe I'll up the ante and try to get up without using the 25.
...comes a fall. On Day 3, the plan was to ride down Fraser again, this time heading by a different route to the bottom of Genting. Thence, homewards on the bus. Of course, I had to repeat the previous day's downhill dose. This time though I pushed just a little too hard. Descending the one-way road towards the Gap, I didn't slow down enough coming into a right turn. I wish there had been a video camera there as I'm sure it would have been the funniest capture ever.
There I was, going just a little too fast to try to make the turn and wondering what to do. The hill rose up on the left of the road and falling away towards the right. Rocky Chris was the next fastest rider and he was at least 100 metres behind me, so I didn't need to worry about bringing him down with me as well. In those two or three seconds, I assessed me options:
1. Force the bike into the turn, hit the deck on my right and slide towards the wall feet first.
2. Slow down as much as possible, brace myself for impact and just hit the wall head-on.
3. Slow down but fall leftwards against the wall hitting it with my left shoulder.
So what did I do?
In the event, the reason a video would have been hilarious is that, any onlooker would have seen a cartoon-like sequence of events. Chap comes rolling downhill and simply goes splat against the wall. Cue laugh-track. So, yes, no miserable shrieking before the crash, a slight wheelie and onward straight into the wall. I am happy to report to the sentimentalists among us that the bicycle remains intact. I am also happy to report to the environmentalists among us that the wall too remains intact. The only thing that didn't remain intact was my pride. And yes, not a scratch on me. Cursing myself for my stupidity, I got up, Chris helped me pull my right shifter back into place and on we went.
In the end, an anti-climax. Going over some gravel, a tiny pebble sneaked into my rear tyre and damaged both tube and tyre. Not being able to repair the tyre, I decided to clamber into the bus. End of an enjoyable and eventful weekend!
MLNW Murli
