Comstock Silver Century

Bill Bushnell – Sunday, June 28, 1992

We decided after last week’s Santa Cruz ride that we could probably handle 100 miles and 8000 feet of climbing. So, Frank called his brother in Minden, Nevada, and arranged for us to spend two nights at his home out in the desert.

On our drive up to Carson City, we came over Spooner Summit. Since the route would descend Spooner Summit into Carson Valley, we thought it might be a good idea to get a look at the road ahead of time. The air was hot, windy and dry. There were a few clouds in the sky, but the weather report said only a chance of thunderstorms in the late afternoon/evening for Sunday, the day of the ride.

We parked the car in the lot behind the new Nevada State Supreme Court building, and took a short, 5-mile touring/warm-up ride around town. We rode up Kings Canyon Rd. until it left town. The AAA map seems to indicate that Kings Canyon Rd. (NV-512) connects with US-50 at Spooner Summit, but I don’t remember seeing anything but a couple of dirt roads joining US-50 up there. If it’s paved all the way, it would be a good alternate to ascending US-50, a four-lane freeway winding over 2000 feet up the eastern slope of the Sierras.

This was the second annual Comstock Silver Century, sponsored by the Carson City Chamber of Commerce. The 100-mile route went over all of the fun passes north of the region covered by my Sierra Ride last May. Additionally, since the ride is still relatively unknown, there would not be crowds of bicyclists on the roadways, and there would probably be food left at the rest stops after Frank and I fell behind everyone else. Since we were registering late, we had to pay $35 instead of $30. For our money, we got a free pre-ride “carbo-loading” dinner and a little bag of casino coupons, water bottle, and a patch, in addition to the normal food and sag support on the day of the ride.

In my opinion the pre-ride dinner was the low point of the ride: an ice-berg lettuce salad, over-buttered bread (so much so that one could literally wring butter from the bread), soft-drinks, and spaghetti with pre-mixed meat sauce. I passed on the spaghetti since I don’t eat meat. It would have been so easy for them to keep the pasta and sauce separate until serving time.

“Whoa! Look at the chandelier swinging!”, Frank’s brother, Ralph, exclaims, “And you were asking just last night if we often had earthquakes here.”

“I feel dizzy.”, Frank says.

The slow rolling motion continues for a good half minute, interrupting our 5:00 preparations for the ride.

“I wonder if it was a big earthquake somewhere distant?”, Ralph asks, “It went on for quite some time.”

“I’ll bet it was in southern California.”, Frank predicts.

It has been windy all night, and there are still gusts blowing this morning. We arrive at the Carson City Community Center just before six o’clock. After checking in and using the facilities, we head off into the sunrise, east on US-50 toward the desert. The wind is at our backs and the riding is easy as we soft-pedal at about 18 mph past the dusty roadside stores, all closed at this hour. We notice that the organizers have set up temporary orange highway signs reading “Special Event Ahead” to warn motorists that bicyclists are ahead, a good idea.

Before long we cross into Lyon County, and shortly thereafter we see a sign for “Kitty Kat Ranch,” one of the legal brothels in Nevada. Apparently, prostitution is legal only in the less populated counties of Nevada, so there is a concentration of them near the borders of more populated adjoining counties.

After about seven miles and a brief gradual downgrade, we reach the turnoff for NV-341 to Virginia City. We turn left and head up into the hills. I stop to stretch, and Frank continues on. Frank must be moving along because I don’t catch up to him until we’re well on our way up the NV-341 truck route into Virginia City. Riders have a choice of either continuing up the long, gradual truck route or of climbing Gold Hill Rd. (NV-342) that ascends in less than half the distance at a 15% grade. We decide to save our legs and take the truck route since it is officially closed until 8:30. Despite this, we still have an occasional pickup truck and Winnebago pass by.

When we reach Virginia City, most of the stores are closed, and the main street is quiet. We stop briefly in front of the Bucket Of Blood Saloon to take pictures before continuing on to the rest stop just north of town. When we get to the rest stop, other riders are milling about stuffing cookies, bananas, PowerBars, etc. into their mouths. Cytomax is the energy drink offered, but I prefer the bottled water. I haven’t tried Cytomax yet, but I figure now is not the time to experiment.

The wind is picking up blowing very strongly now from the south-southwest, and the air is heavy and humid, atypical for Nevada this time of year. There is a large, flat gray cloud covering most of the sky.

“What’s the weather prediction?”, I ask one of the support team.

“Cool and windy with gusts up to 40 mph.”, he answers.

“No rain?”, I ask.

“No. Just a chance of thunderstorms later in the evening. Hey, this is better than 90-degrees under a hot sun!”

Frank and I continue riding up toward Geiger Summit. When we finally reach the pass, the air is cooler and the wind is blowing harder. We each eat a sandwich and take a picture of us standing next to the summit marker. As we prepare to leave, a support truck rolls up. From the open window we hear the radio weatherman confirming the prediction we heard earlier.

“This weather feels more like late November with a winter storm rolling in!”, Frank yells above the wind.

We begin the long descent down from Geiger Summit. For the first part of the descent, the wind is at our backs and our speeds both top out in the mid 40’s, but for the lower two-thirds of the descent we have a headwind with gusts from the side.

Most of the Nevada drivers have so far extended greater courtesy to us bicyclists than I have experienced from California drivers. Maybe people are just more patient out here. The one exception comes while I negotiate a couple of sharp turns heading down from Geiger Summit. A pickup truck driver pulling right up on my rear wheel, suddenly and impatiently swerves across the double-yellow line, passes, and then rudely pulls back into the lane, coming to within a foot of my front wheel.

Soon I reach the rest stop at the bottom. Frank, as usual, has arrived sooner. We both eat half of a PowerBar and a couple of fig bars. For people riding the 100-mile course, now is not the time to eat a big meal. The next 17 miles is a nearly unbroken 4300-foot uphill climb, the ascent to the Mount Rose Summit. The lunch stop is about two miles from the top at the Acorn Cross Country Ski Hut.

While resting, we see a couple of familiar faces: Greg, a bike mechanic at Wheelsmith in Palo Alto, and another Wheelsmith staffer whose name I cannot remember. They started at 7:30, riding the course so far in nearly half our time! They stop briefly and we chat for a few minutes before they take off again.

The air is very warm and humid now. It really feels like rain, but the weatherman is saying just windy? I don’t believe it.

Frank and I begin riding again. After crossing US-395, the road begins a long gradual ascent up the sage-covered desert slope toward the wall of mountains before us. The wind is in our faces now, and the riding is slow and difficult. We manage to ride until the first little downhill near a group of buildings before Frank insists on taking a break. The sky is very dark.

NV-431 is the most direct route between Reno and Incline Village at the north Lake Tahoe shore. Traffic is heavy with more than one large tour bus grinding its way up the highway, belching thick brown and black diesel smoke into our already over-stressed lungs.

After stopping several more times either to allow Frank to catch his breath or to allow either of us to heed the call of nature, we finally reach the lunch stop. The organizers have set out a deli spread with bread, cheese, ham, turkey, peanut butter & jelly, fruits, chips, and other lunch foods. I make myself a cheese sandwich, and Frank makes a peanut butter sandwich. I usually don’t eat dairy products while riding, but I’m very hungry now, and my body is crying out for calories, especially since I didn’t carbo-load as much as I would have liked the night before at the pre-ride dinner. While we sit and eat, the sky alternates between warm sun and dark spitting clouds. The clouds are moving very fast from the southwest to the northeast. If there’s weather coming out of those clouds it will be on the Tahoe side of the mountains.

After nearly an hour of resting we slowly get up and resume the ride. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to eat so much with 600+ feet of climbing still before us. Traffic is still heavy, but we manage a steady pace. Soon we reach the summit. The air is dark and the wind blows fiercely over the pass. As I struggle to secure my camera to a highway post to take a picture of me in front of the summit sign, another rider rides up and offers to take the picture. Shortly after putting my camera back into the pack, sprinkles begin falling from the sky. Looking down toward Lake Tahoe, we see nothing but a gray mass of clouds completely obscuring the ground and the Lake. It’s raining down there, for sure. The other riders look ambivalent about continuing.

“Well, Frank,” I say, “Looks like we’re going to get wet on this ride after all!”

“Well then, let’s get going!”, Frank says.

I put on my windbreaker and tighten the hood securely under my helmet and begin the windy and wet descent. About a quarter mile from the top the rain begins. The drops feel like little sharp pebbles striking our faces as we coast down the hill. The air is cool, but not cold. The front must not have passed through yet. We see a couple of other cyclists riding back up the hill toward a tiny kiosk with a roof. They won’t get much shelter there because the wind is blowing the rain sideways! The road is wet, but it isn’t raining too hard. Since I’ve practiced descending wet roads before in the Santa Cruz Mountains, I coast without using my brakes too much. The Tahoe side of NV-431 isn’t very steep, so our maximum speeds are limited to the mid-30’s, and we still have a strong headwind.

After what seems like a very short distance, we reach the turnoff for Country Club Rd. A sag vehicle and other riders are waiting at the intersection under a thick tree.

“Did you see a couple of other guys back there?”, one of them asks me.

“Yeah, we saw them heading back toward the summit.”, Franks answers.

“Big mistake! Big mistake!”, another of them says.

“It’s raining enough to make the ride wet, but not so hard that we get completely soaked, and at least it’s not too cold,” I say. “Well, Frank, let’s get going.” I’m a bit disappointed. If it’s going to rain, we should at least have been treated to some thunder and lightning!

We start down Country Club Rd. and turn left on NV-28 a few minutes later. The rain has turned into a steady drizzle. A couple of other riders ride quickly past. As Frank and I continue south on NV-28, we see in several places, riders huddled out of the rain under the eaves of apartments and houses along the highway. They look miserable, but we wave as we ride by. Soon we see no more riders. Usually we see riders passing us until we are the last on the course. Then, we’re passed only by sag drivers, worried that we might not make it. Fortunately, I brought cycling wear for all weather except maybe for snow.

Frank and I stop briefly along the road to take a picture of Lake Tahoe, looking now like an angry sea with whitecaps enshrouded by gray clouds. One rider passes us by. The guy’s on a hybrid bike with blue anodized everything and knobby tires. He’s wearing only a T-shirt! We learn later that he lives near Stateline, Nevada.

Since our bottles are nearly full, we decide not to stop at the water stop halfway between Incline Village and Spooner Summit. It’s still raining off and on, but as we near the junction with US-50, the rain lets up.

While waiting for Frank at the junction, a sag vehicle comes by and picks up the “Special Event Ahead” sign that warns motorists of bicyclists on the highway. I guess we’re the last riders.

The ride from NV-28 to Spooner Summit is short, and soon we reach the pickup truck with the left-over food at the rest stop. Frank and I both refill our bottles and eat a snack. I take a PowerBar for the road. It’s not raining right now, but it’s quite windy.

The descent from Spooner Summit down to US-395 is the most thrilling descent I’ve done to date, in part because I quite literally threw caution to the wind. Normally this descent wouldn’t be too interesting. US-50, a four-lane undivided highway for this section, descends at an average 6% grade with nice, wide turns for 9 miles until the traffic light at US-395 at the bottom. We noted yesterday the treacherous storm drains every so often along the usually wide shoulder of the highway and noted that without using the accelerator or the brakes, the car coasted at 55 to 60 mph. Yesterday it was hot and sunny with a moderate wind.

Today the weather is stormy with a strong wind blowing down the hill. Frank starts ahead of me, and I begin the descent a minute later. I decide to see how it would go if I neither pedal nor use my brakes the whole way down.

As I get above about 30 mph, occasional side-gusts of wind push me out into the right lane. Also, the shoulder is scored with deep, gashes every couple of feet or so, creating a washboard effect that is very uncomfortable. The ride rules require us to stay to the right, to not impede traffic, and to obey posted speed limits. For this part of the ride there is no way I am going to ride down on the washboard shoulder.

About a mile from the top, a tremendous gust pushes me from behind. I notice my speedometer: 31, 34, 38, 42, 46, ... A quarter mile ahead, I see Frank has stopped by the shoulder. Maybe he’s had another blowout. He’s not looking back or waving his arms for me to stop, and his tires look O.K. I decide to continue. My speedometer has continued to climb. When I pass Frank, it reads 50.5 -- no time even to say “Hi”. Just then it starts raining hard, but only for a short distance. I hope it doesn’t hail! I’m worried that these gusts might cause me to lose control and fall off, an unpleasant proposition. I decide to let the wind push me down the hill. My speed increases and tops out at 55.0 before I leave the squall.

Still with a strong tailwind, my speed drops very gradually to the high-40’s. A van with a family passes towing a trailer. Pigtails fly as children in the back seat all turn around and watch in awe or in horror, I’m not sure which, as I struggle to maintain a reasonably straight line through the strong side-gusts.

As I near the bottom, my neck muscles are almost out of energy. A few more seconds and I’ll have to sit up higher or drop my head. The traffic light is just ahead. I go into a tuck for the final drop to the bottom, topping out at 47.5 mph before I apply my brakes and stop to wait for Frank.

The air is warm and humid, but there is no rain. A few minutes later, Frank reaches the bottom.

“You’re crazy! Those side-gusts scared me to death! When I saw you fly by, I started thinking up an obituary for you!”, Frank screamed.

“Well, how fast did you get?”, I ask.

“I got up to 47 on that last little hill. I was too worried about getting another blowout, and those winds could have pushed me over the guard rail. The way I saw it, either I go 25 mph all the way down, or do what you did. That hill made me very nervous.”, Frank says.

If Frank had thrown caution to the wind, he might have achieved 60 mph. As we’re talking, the guy on the hybrid arrives at the bottom. A minute later a couple of sag vehicles come by. One of them, a Volvo, is loaded down with what looks like four or five bicycles on the roof, and the suspension looks like it’s about to bottom out from the weight of the soggy riders inside. The driver of the other van gets out and asks if we’re planning to continue to Genoa.

“You guys are the last on the course. If you’re planning to continue, I’ll go on ahead and tell them to keep the rest stop open.”, he says.

“I think I want to head back. That hill spooked me, and I don’t really feel like riding 9 miles against a strong headwind.”, Frank says.

“I’m up to continuing, but if you really want to head back to Carson City, I’ll go along.”, I say.

“I was planning to complete the whole ride, but if you guys go back now, I will, too. I don’t want to be the only one on the course.”, the guy with the hybrid adds.

So, we decide to cut the ride short by 18 miles or so. The ride to Genoa is mostly flat into a strong headwind while riding south and with a strong tailwind while riding north back to Carson City.

We continue on to the traffic light and turn left on US-395. The official route turns right on Clearview and heads back into Carson City by way of the backroads and past the correctional facility.

We didn’t really complete the ride, but we rode the most exciting parts of the route, so I don’t feel like I missed out on too much. We were tired, but we could still act like human beings afterward. If we had ridden to Genoa and back, we probably would have been exhausted. I think the wind and rain took some energy out of the ride. It was much more like the rides I took last winter than the rides I’ve been doing this summer.

My favorite parts of the ride were the ride on NV-341 through Virginia City and the descent from Spooner Summit. The ride through Virginia City was enjoyable in part because there was so little traffic. The Tahoe segment of the ride would have been more fun without the rain and with less traffic. I’m glad I didn’t do the ride around the lake last Memorial Day weekend; the traffic would have been horrible. NV-28 is narrow with little shoulder, and US-50 from NV-28 to Stateline isn’t much better.

In summary, the 2^nd annual Comstock Silver Century was a fun ride. If only the weather had cooperated it would have been as much fun as my Sierra Ride last May. I overheard one of the ride staffers say there were only 350 people on the three routes! I guess few people know about this ride, yet.

Ride stats:

distance: 82.1 miles

climbing: 7870 feet

total time: 10:12

riding time: 6:40

average speed: 12.3 mph

maximum speed: 55.0 mph

index: 114

irp (Index Rate-of-Progress): 11

mirp (Moving irp): 17

An article on indexing can be found here.

©2004, Bill Bushnell

Please do not publish or distribute for profit without permission.