There it is, that's the climb that unbuckled me. I could come up with all sorts of great excuses. Overworked, stressed out, exhausted. But in deference to my riding companions, all of whom suffered up the same climb with much more aplomb, I can't deny the fact that I may very well suck. I had already been in the preliminary stages of bonking, then the leg cramps started. Then I got off balance and took a silly little low speed tumble, wherein I wasn't able to clip out of the pedal in time, which allowed me to twist my ankle. Luckily I had several more miles of climbing to walk up. I haven't been in that much agony in a while. Ankles do not seem to be made for walking. And every step seemed to land on a root or a rock that wrenched it again and sent pain molecules coursing through my system.
Oh and it raained on me. And i got chewed on by mosquitoes. Aggressive high altitude mosquitoes with nothing to lose.
Finally, after about 3,000 years of climbing, and limping, I reached the top:
I can't tell you how good it felt to spin that ankle out on the bike. Maybe I've trained my ankles to ride. It still hurt, but not nearly as bad.
11,200.
No pictures exist of the descent down Deadman's. The rain started apace, it was wet. My ankle hurt. Here's the aftermath:
