In May 1994 i was preparing to ride a week long Seattle to Spokane bicycle ride called Trek Washington. I had previously worked as road staff on the ride, and related rides. I knew many of the volunteers and HAM radio operators.
One of them, Anthony, KB7UQY, announced that he was going to lead a training ride on Memorial Day. Anthony was a great guy and his ride was popular; many people signed up because the ride was up Hurricane Ridge on the Olympic Peninsula. One of the important parts of riding across the state of Washington, and the most concerning for most people, was crossing the mountains. In mid-June we were going to ride over the North Cascades Highway: it's two mountain passes at 4,500 and 5,500 feet, so getting some climbing training was important.
Anthony was a monster rider; he once told me that he didn't feel like it was worth going out for a ride shorter than 140 miles. Our upcoming ride, Trek Washington, was on a different scale: 385 miles across the state of Washington in six 60 mile days.
He had planned to start this Memorial Day "training" ride at the Dungeness Spit in Sequim, quite a long way from Hurricane Ridge. When people saw that, many canceled. I told him that i thought it was because a lot of people were going to have problems with an 85 mile ride that included a 6,000 foot climb. He told me he thought i could do it. I thought i could too, that wasn't the point.
My friend Dianne and her new boyfriend Micheal decided to ride from Seattle to Port Angeles the day before the ride, camp, do the climb, then ride home the following day. I thought that was a neat idea! When i talked to them, they didn't really know how far it was to PA and they were traveling very light, planning on going out to eat while they were there, but they were excited and ready to play it by ear.
I was very excited about the ride. On the morning of the ride an acquaintance named Kirk picked me up in his van and drove me to Sequim. His wife and kids came along in the van, they were going to spend the day having fun, and then meet Kirk at the top. When we arrived at Dungeness Spit, only a handful of people had showed up.
I was somewhat surprised to see Johnnie Moss (KB7CTI, now a silent key) in the parking lot preparing his bicycle. Johnnie, as well as a committed HAM, was a committed bicyclist. He found it a great way to manage his diabetes, but he also loved it and rode many organized rides with a passion. But Johnnie was a very large man and people who didn't know him were always very surprised to see him on a bicycle.
"I need the training." He told me that morning. Certainly, we all did, but i was still surprised to see him on a ride this intense. It took quite some effort for Johnnie to get over the big climbs and he was extremely slow. But he loved to go fast on the downhills. Once, when i met him at the bottom of Stevens Pass after a ride he walked up to me, got right in my face and said "FIFTY-FOUR!" Johnnie was a challenging person and lots of people had a tendency to avoid him. I'm ashamed to say i did a little as well, although i felt something of a connection, perhaps just through the Aspergers.
As we prepared to set out from the parking lot in Sequim it was about 70 degrees with bright sunshine, we were all wearing short sleeve jerseys and shorts. I had a pair of tights with me and a heavy fleece jacket for the descent.
Kirk and i rode out together. But first, i had this great idea, i gave my heavy fleece jacket to Kirk's family to carry in the van for me. I would get it from them at the top, for the ride down.
It was a gorgeous ride, 35 miles on the old highway from Sequim to Port Angeles, through farmland sprinkled with forest and peek-a-boo water views across to Victoria. Kirk and i quickly dropped back from Anthony's bunch and rode together. Johnnie soon dropped back behind us. Of course we left the rain shadow, and as soon as we turned towards the National Park in Port Angeles it started to rain pretty hard. Kirk and i started climbing and it kept getting colder. We never saw Johnnie.
The first part of the climb is a very steep, short section that gets you up to about 1,500 feet. We met Dianne and Micheal pulling out of the campground at 1,200 feet. They looked awful. They had had a very difficult ride up the night before at the end of the 90 miles from Seattle. They didn't realize that the campground was a couple of hours ride from town, and up 1,500 feet, so for dinner they had eaten all of their food for the climb, they were heading up with nothing to eat. The four of us rode together in the rain. The rain turned to sleet as it got colder at the higher elevations.
By the time we got to the National Park ticket booth it was sleeting and snowing pretty hard and i knew i was going to wind up hypothermic if i continued riding. I wanted so badly to ride this climb, but, sadly, i sent Kirk & Dianne & Michael to ride on and i stopped to wait for Kirk's wife to drive by with my jacket. I stood, kind of dejected, under the overhang at the Park entrance for what seemed like hours and hours, waiting, while tourists in rental cars and RVs drove through, heading for the top.
The rangers kept giving me the evil eye. The snow continued and even got heavier. I did wonder a bit how Johnnie had gotten in front of me, because he never passed the ticket booth. Somehow he must have gotten ahead and was pushing it up the mountain in his typical, surprising, but dedicated way.
I waited a long time. Almost 2 hours. Eventually, Kirk's wife and kids came and gave me my jacket. They also gave me a sandwich. It was late in the day and she offered me a ride to the top. I had a hard time deciding, because i really wanted to complete the ride, but it didn't seem like the best idea. I ate the sandwich trying to convince myself to make the intelligent decision and climb in the van. Finally i just jumped on the bike and took off into the falling snow, heading up the 4,500 climb feet to the top. I don't think i even said goodbye!
I struggled, of course. I took a few short rests, but i just turned the cranks and pushed on up the hill. It was a hard climb and i was rather enjoying it. This is a steep road, but there were no sweeping views today, the visibility in the falling snow ranged from a couple hundred feet to maybe 20 feet at times. A few vehicles came up through the snow and quickly disappeared ahead of me, but mostly i was alone in the small bubble of visibility around me. The snow was coming down hard and every time an RV passed me, i'm sure they were talking about how crazy i was. Riding alone is always harder than riding with others, but i really wanted to make it to the top. I had wanted to do this ride ever since i had moved to Washington. I don't know how long i rode alone, but it was quite a while.
Eventually a bicyclist sped downhill out of the falling snow, passed me and disappeared below, descending quite fast. Then another. And another. They were swallowed by the falling flakes. And then the rest of the group came towards me, including Kirk, Micheal and Dianne. They had reached the top and turned around to for the long ride back to Sequim. Anthony pulled up to a stop next to me facing downhill, blocking my path.
We were filling the middle of the narrow mountain the road with a crowd of snow covered bicyclists. They had been worried about me, they were happy to see me. Kirk was not with them, he had figured the descent would be too dangerous and had thrown his bike in the van and the family had headed back to Seattle.
The group told me the snow got heavier as they got higher. Everyone was eager to be down in the sun again. Micheal and Dianne were wet and cold and hungry and told me they had no food for dinner but were going to huddle in their tent overnight. They were all telling me that i just HAD to turn around. Insisting that i turn around right there, midway up the climb.
They were right of course. Anthony is a lawyer. He was making a very good case. Not only would it be dark before i got back to Sequim, but i wouldn't even have a ride home to Seattle. And riding alone, aside from being not much fun, isn't very safe. Nevertheless i was fighting them, i wanted to get to the top.
While we were arguing i was worried about what would happen if a car came while we were all standing in the middle of the snowy road like that, and sure enough a car's headlights showed through the falling snow as it approached from below us, coming uphill around the curve. Dejected, i pulled to the side of the road and prepared to turn around. The car pulled up, and instantly, without needing an explanation of the situation, Johnnie Moss stuck his head out the driver's window and ended the discussion.
Johnnie looked right at me and said - "GO! I'm with you."
I was overjoyed, i almost teared up, but i didn't wait even a second, i just started turning the cranks uphill, while the rest of the group continued descending. Johnnie supported me the rest of the way, leapfrogging, pulling into turnouts and even offering me food and water. It took another hour but i pushed it up to the parking lot at the top.
I had never been up Hurricane Ridge before, by bike, car, bus or anything else. The snow was so heavy that i couldn't see across the parking lot, i rolled up to where Johnnie was stopped and asked him, "Isn't there a lodge or something up here?" It was not visible. He pointed and i rode the 200 feet across the parking lot. I leaned my bike against the railing and went inside.
All the people in bermuda shorts from the RVs and rental cars stared at me as i walked in, snow dripping off my helmet and ordered five cheeseburgers. One for Johnnie, two (garden burgers) for me and two for my unprepared camping friends. When i came out with the food, Johnnie had already loaded my bike onto his car. We headed down the hill, stopping briefly at the campsite to deliver food to to a very thankful wet couple in a tent.
Johnnie told me that less than half way to Port Angeles he realized this ride was not for him and he turned around and rode back to Sequim, packed up and got in his car. As we drove back through Sequim we passed a rainbow. Johnnie drove me all the way back to Seattle.
But there is one more part of the story -- after we got off the ferry we were driving north on Alaskan Way when someone ran a stop sign at Clay Street. I looked up and a car was coming down the hill at 40 mph directly at me, it was going to T-bone the car, right at my seat. Johnnie, calmly zigged and zagged through traffic, i honestly don't know what he did, it seemed like magic, to avoid the impending doom.
I told him he'd saved my life TWICE that day.
