Keeping It In Perspective

by Bryan Holloway (Cycleworks)
April 28, 2004

Last Saturday, I learned there’s nothing quite like Brasstown Bald and the Tour de Georgia to put my cycling in perspective. I originally intended to race a crit over in Athens, but changed my mind at the last minute. How often are Lance Armstrong, Mario Cipollini, and a host of other world-class elite cyclists riding your local training grounds, the mountains of your own backyard? I couldn’t bear the thought of missing it. 

So Kaj, Shige, and I loaded up the bikes and set out Saturday morning for the one-hour trek northward to Dahlonega. En route, Shige read to us the brilliant article “Peacocks on My Porch,” by Kelly Romero on the last page of the latest issue of VeloNews. It is hilarious. 

We parked the car at Turner’s Corner and hopped on our bikes. Headed south, to link up with the Tour de Georgia route near Cleveland, Ga and from there, ride the route up and over Hogpen, the toughest of the 6 gaps. As our little 3-man paceline approached the climb, we waved at the local-folk, out mowing their yards on this pleasant Saturday morning. Shige exclaimed, “We’re the leaders!” I think they bought it. 

And then came the climb. As we crawled up the mountain, we passed many, many spectators setting up their folding chairs and picnic lunches on the side of the road. It was starting to feel like “the Tour”. Of course, the three of us had to have a little sprint (and I use that term loosely) at the KOM line at the top. Shige took the honors and became King of the Mountains “on-the-road”. Brasstown Bald would decide the final classification. 

Our plan was to watch the pros on Brasstown Bald, which meant only one thing: a descent down Hogpen! Given it’s steepness and relative straight-ness, this is the mother of all descents. I hit a new PR max speed! Which put me on Cloud 9. Life is good.
Another hour of meandering through the pleasant Georgia countryside and up Jack’s Gap, amidst a huge crowd of spectators, we reached the base of the climb up Brasstown Bald. I had seen the road before and heard the mythical reports of the brutality of the climb, but I had never ridden it before myself. But I naively thought, “How hard can it be? It’s only 3 miles long…” I knew it would be hard and slow-going, but I figured it would at least be do-able. Right? To get to the top without stopping. In anticipation of this, I had even put my 27 on my bike the night before. I was ready! 
I was so wrong. 

Almost immediately, we passed “5K To Go” written on the road, and almost immediately, it became apparent I had put myself in “serious difficulty”. I thought “Uh, oh. This does not bode well for my chances of making the Tour de Georgia someday…”
1K later, I was seeing stars. I stopped. I got off my bike. I lay down in the road. I quickly drained what remained in my water bottles. I begged forgiveness from the Cycling Gods I had angered. Eventually, I conquered the will to not get back on the bike, and I started pedaling again. It did not get better. I had to stop again. Some kind soul gave me more water. 
Again, back on the bike. And eventually, the road turned from “steep” to “even steeper”. I was out of the saddle. I could barely turn the cranks. My cadence was 30. My speed was 3. I nearly fell over sideways. At this point, hundreds of spectators lined the course, so I couldn’t stop now. Somewhere in the distance, a tire exploded. Ka-pow! Then I heard a familiar voice. Jim saw me coming and asked, “Holloway, was that you?!” I replied, “I wish!”, meaning if that had been my tube that exploded, at least I would have to stop. But Jim was an angel of mercy and gave me a long push through that steep section. Thanks, Jim, you saved my life. Another K later and I got another push, from Cycleworks Andy. Thanks, Andy, you saved my life, too. 
So we finally got to the parking lot near the top and found the red kite (1K To Go) and a giant Jumbotron. Ironically, if one wished to continue to the top, bikes were not allowed. Foot spectators only. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise, as another K of climbing like that would have invoked certain death. So we parked it under the Jumbotron, hit the hot dog stand, and waited for the race. 

Another hour later, and here come the pros, making it look easy. We took pictures of our heros and cheered them onward and upward. Ironically for me, the very spot on the climb where Cesar Grajales launched his winning-move attack was the very spot where, earlier in the day, I detonated and collapsed the first time. 

Eventually, all the racers finished the stage and we headed home. And who did we run into at the base of Brasstown Bald, but Mario Cipollini himself. His team car stopped in the huge traffic jam of cars and spectators, so he got out, signed autographs and posed for pictures. How cool is that? Talk about surreal. I mean this guy is a legend. And here he is in the north Georgia mountains. And I’m standing 5 feet away from him. I couldn’t get my camera out quick enough, and by the time I snapped a photo, he turned his head. So I have a photo of the back of Cippolini’s head.

Alas, Kaj, Shige and I headed home. Which involved another climb, over Neel’s Gap, to get back to my car. But that also meant another descent! Down Neel’s. Which was a blast. It was a good day. After all was said and done, I was wiped out, and our stats speak for themselves: 61.5 miles, 4 hours 25 minutes ride time, 13.9 mph average, 55.9 mph max, and 8,300 feet of climbing. Not the longest ride I have ever logged, but definitely an Epic. Life is good. Someday, I may return to Brasstown Bald and attempt an ascent without stopping to avenge that ghost. But in the meantime, I will savor my humble experience and appreciate the perspective it has given me. I know I will never beat Cesar Grajales up Brasstown Bald. But I will always love riding my bike. And the good news is, at the end of the day, that’s what it’s all about, right?