Ted King discovers the Cascade Mountains

Ted King discovers the Cascade Mountains

Ted King called: “I’ll be in Seattle in early August. Want to go for a ride?”

Of course I do – Ted is a lot of fun! But where do you take the King of Gravel for a ride? In August, the snow has melted even on the highest passes, so there are many options.

How about a loop from Packwood that skirts Mount Adams, traverses Babyshoe Pass to the remote hamlet of Trout Lake, then returns via Mount St. Helens and Elk Pass, with one of the best descents I’ve ridden anywhere? Well, that’s 200 miles – maybe a little ambitious for a one-day ride including a drive from Seattle and back. Laura and Ted had already explored the foothills east of Seattle the weekend before, so I wanted to give Ted a taste of summer riding in the Cascade Mountains.

In the end, I settled on a route that combines great views with challenging riding – plus it included roads I’d never explored myself. It climbs the flanks of Mount Rainier, just outside the national park. And – a big plus – it’s only about an hour’s drive from Seattle.

It’s always good to see Ted. He’s one of the most enthusiastic cyclists I know. After a short warm-up on single track along the White River, we crossed its milky waters (the river originates in a glacier on Mount Rainier just a few miles upvalley) and started climbing. Sun Top is an old fire lookout, and its supply road goes up for 7 miles and more than 3,000 feet. The average grade is 10%. It didn’t take long to rise above the valley, but the road just kept going uphill.

I quickly found out that there’s a difference between mere mortals and ex-professionals: Ted is really fast. He kept peppering me with questions about tire technology, bike geometry and other topics, while I tried to focus on spinning the pedals smoothly and breathing in the thin mountain air.

Finally I told Ted to go ahead and wait for me at the top. He did and took this shot of me climbing the last hairpin, with Mount Rainier in the background. While I was still working hard on the steep slope, he was already enjoying the view!

Of course, I have an excuse for my slower climbing: I carried chocolate croissants for our breakfast. It was a great spot for a break, with a splendid view and clear mountain air. There’s a reason why they chose this mountain for a fire lookout!

Then came the downhill. I managed to take one blurry photo, then I put the camera away. For this rough, washboarded descent, I needed both hands on the bars, and no bouncing camera on my back.

Ted’s Strava says that he’s ridden more than 8,500 miles this year, mostly on gravel. It shows in the speed he carries on the downhills. Strava says I hit 41.5 mph (65 km/h) on this downhill, and I believe it. I was just keeping up with Ted!

On the following climb, I was reminded that, to take photos, I need to be at least as strong as the rider I’m photographing, so I can pull out the camera and get my shots while pedaling. Not so with Ted. Most of my photos show a small blue dot disappearing around the next mountain ridge.

Not that Ted was racing. He seemed more interested in the landscape we were traversing than the speed we were making. He wanted to know who built these roads and why. (Many were built as logging roads, or to supply fire lookouts.) He was curious about the geology. (Mount Rainier is a volcano that is superimposed on the uplifted Cascade Mountains.) I remembered that he raced as a pro on an Italian team and enjoyed the cultural experience as much as the racing. Learning about what it’s like to live and race in Europe was fun, and Ted is a great storyteller.

Near the top of the second climb, we filtered some water to refill our bottles from a creek that comes right out of Mount Rainier National Park. Ted remarked that the elevation sign couldn’t be right – we’d climbed more than that. I checked the topographical maps I had brought just in case. Indeed, we were at 4,365 feet. At first, I suspected that the road might cross Eleanor Creek again further downvalley, and somebody mixed up the signs. But the map shows that the creek is pretty short before it flows into Huckleberry Creek, which itself is a tributary of the White River. So there’s not real explanation for the error.

A vertiginous descent followed, then we took an out-and-back to the aptly named Lonesome Lake. After all the steep climbs and descents, it was great to be on more gently rolling terrain. It was getting hot by the time we reached the lake. The cool water felt great.

When I planned this ride, Google Maps suggested a road that crosses the West Fork of the White River and heads into the hills on the other side. When I checked satellite images, I saw that the bridge no longer was connected to the road, because the river had jumped its bed and created a side channel where the road used to be.

When Ted and I got to the location, there was no longer any trace of a bridge… Ted was surprised: The landscape in Vermont doesn’t change that quickly. Around here, we’ve learned the hard way that maps show roads that existed at one point, but don’t necessarily still exist today.

There was still a road on our side of the river. It used to be a paved logging mainline, but it was abandoned when the river cut it off. The pavement was still smooth where it poked through its cover of leaves and soil, but there were some pretty dramatic cracks and dips where the surface had settled and shifted.

Slowly, river and forest are reclaiming the road.

Ted commented: “I hope we can make it through. I wouldn’t want to climb back up the descent we just came down.” I was glad I wasn’t the only one feeling the effort in my legs. We needn’t have feared: The road remains passable – at least until the next winter flood.

And then we were back in Greenwater. My favorite cafe was closed due to Covid, but another was open and served great blackberry shakes. A ride of 55 miles (88 km) at an average speed of just above 10 mph (16 km/h) doesn’t seem impressive compared to Ted’s usual accomplishments, but that’s the nature of riding in the Cascades. Somehow, Ted managed to set a few Strava KOMs along the way. Most of all, his sense of fun and adventure when we headed on unknown roads made this ride really special.

We would have loved to invite others on the ride, but social distancing is difficult with more than two riders. (We didn’t draft and mostly rode side-by-side, plus wore masks when we were closer than 6 feet.) Hopefully, life will have returned to normal when Ted’s in town next time, and we can do a ride with a larger group again.

Click here for a Strava profile of the ride that includes a route sheet.

Photo credits: Ted King (Images 4, 9, 13).

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Comments (14)

  • Stephen Poole

    Hi Jan,

    This post seems harder to read than normal. The font appears to use thinner lines and the text seems to be grey, not black. Please take pity on us and revert to something more legible!


    August 21, 2020 at 5:25 am
    • Jan Heine

      Sorry that the post seems hard to read. There hasn’t been any change on our web site, so it’s probably an issue with the settings at your end.

      August 22, 2020 at 10:14 am
  • adamar09

    Sounds fantastic!
    Can I ask – what do you use for filtration – chlorine tablets or something more sophisticated?

    August 21, 2020 at 5:32 am
    • Jan Heine

      I usually carry a small Sawyer Mini water filter on these rides.

      August 21, 2020 at 4:12 pm
  • Peter Michael

    Well that settles it — east coast Vermont riders are fastest. Probably superior maple syrup too.

    August 21, 2020 at 9:18 am
  • Paul J

    Great ride report! What tires were you and Ted riding?

    August 21, 2020 at 10:10 am
    • Jan Heine

      He was on 700C x 42 Hurricane Ridge Endurance, I was on 26″ x 2.3″ Rat Trap Pass Extralights. (I needed all the advantage I could get!)

      August 21, 2020 at 10:51 am
      • Tim Evans

        What is the history or reasoning behind using metric for most tire desriptions and imperial for others? (For example your reply above)

        August 22, 2020 at 8:26 am
        • Jan Heine

          It used to be that French bikes had tires with metric dimensions, and British tires were measured in inches. Then the bike markets became global, and the sizes mixed. For racing bikes, 700C became the norm (rather than the similar 27″), for mountain bikes, it was 26″. There’s additional confusion when standards were ‘translated,’ so 650B sometimes is called 26″ (or 27.5″).

          The ISO standards list tire width and rim bead seat diameter in millimeters – for example, Ted’s 700C x 42 tires are 42-622 mm and my 26″ x 2.3″ are 54-559 mm. This clears up all the confusion and makes it easy to compare tire sizes, but cyclists are conservative and slow to accept new standards. And the industry needs catchy words like 29er for marketing. ‘622 mountain bikes’ doesn’t have the same ring… For Bicycle Quarterly, we use the ISO standards, followed by the old-fashioned wheel size in parentheses, so it’s 42-622 mm (700C).

          August 22, 2020 at 10:13 am
          • Tim Evans

            Yes, consistant use of the ISO standard would make comparisons easier. I had to convert 2.3″ to 58+mm to get a feel for Ted Kings tire verses yours.

            Thank you for the explanation.

            August 22, 2020 at 2:58 pm
          • Stuart Fogg

            Not only cyclists are conservative about this. In high school 55 years ago I found out about metric measurements and wondered why everyone didn’t use them. I’m still wondering.

            August 22, 2020 at 5:08 pm
          • Jan Heine

            Even in metric countries like Germany, people talk about 28-inch bikes (which are actually 700C or 29″ in modern parlance) and 500-horsepower cars. At least cyclists have adopted watts for power and grams for the weight of bike parts (but not complete bikes!).

            August 22, 2020 at 6:58 pm
  • Tony Turano

    Amazing ride! Hey Ted, curious why you run road shoes and pedals? Is there a secret advantage or just what you are comfortable in/on? Seems like mtb shoe would be more suited on gravel?

    August 23, 2020 at 2:11 pm
    • Jan Heine

      Ted had been on a road ride the day before, and he didn’t have time to change his pedals…

      August 23, 2020 at 3:17 pm

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