Challenging Castle Crags

Not one, but two of my cycling buddies were keen to travel up to Mt. Shasta for this year's Castle Crags ride.

Lake Sisikiyou was lovely in the early morning stillness, and snow lingered on the distant ridge.

The mountain dazzled us with its glorious cap, and there were even a couple of snowy patches still melting along the north-facing heights along our route.  And wildflowers.

Curious to understand more about the folks who choose to live up there, I chatted up three volunteers at one of the rest stops: An attorney who practices up and down the state (and owns a hotel in a nearby town), a guy who works remotely for a company in the Bay Area, and an executive for a local conservation organization. Surprising? Or not, because this event is hosted by the Rotary Club.

The last rest stop was packed and gone by the time we reached it. We'd started slightly later than last year, and I'd dawdled a bit more throughout the day. That, and the freight train ...

I flew down a sharp hill to cross the railroad tracks in Dunsmuir ... to find our path forward blocked by a freight train. Which wasn't moving. A train whose end was not in sight. It would be easy enough for me to slip through beneath a car, but not my bike. I walked back up the (steep) hill in time to catch Ms. C before she started the descent. She was a champ at recognizing that we could simply proceed along the main road. I could see why they wanted to route us across the tracks (and back again), but it wasn't strictly necessary.

I had forgotten the long uphill slog out of Dunsmuir; surely it would flatten out around the next bend ... surely it would [not]. A dim memory surfaced, of studying the profile and noticing that last year.

I definitely remembered where that ride ended for me—after walking up an unpaved section, eager to descend and too much at ease given how well-marked the hazards had been ... up till then.

No mechanical snafu for me, this year! My faster ride buddy was waiting at the finish to chauffeur us back to our hotel (rather than bike the last couple of miles). A full 59 miles and 6,360 feet of climbing, this year. More than 100 feet per mile ... very much more so, given that what went up also went down. Ah, but  remember those views!

This year I wondered if that odd “motel” sign at the penultimate rest stop had a history. Those train cars at Railroad Park are the motel! Now I want to return for a stay!