Really Dry Conditions, Steep Shore-To-Sky Climbs, And Single Speeding
For my first many years riding #1FG, long before I became an evangelist (for a very short time) trying to get all my friends to try it, I was the only single speeder I knew. It wasn’t lonely, I rode with plenty of folks, it’s just they usually rode bikes with front & rear suspension and they always rode bikes with multiple gears.
In fact, the first time I had a chance to ride my single speed with another one gear aficionado was in 2008, or so, when a fellow named Chris came up from Washington State to rip my legs off and change my perception of what I could ride on my rigid fork (Boundary Trail?!). To put that in perspective, this would have been my fourth single-speeded mountain bike.
At the time I was riding my one-speed with a 29’er wheel up front and a 26″ in the back and Chris was pedaling a Kona 29’er but the gear ratios pretty much worked out to basically a match. Now I don’t want to be unloading a pile of excuses here but just for the record, my bike had a steel Surly Boat Anchor and he was riding a carbon Bontrager fork. Also, he had the added advantages of being significantly fitter, taller, smarter, stronger, and more tenacious than me. So, like I said, basically a match.
So there we are, starting our epic one-speed day with a very dry, very loose-over-hard, climb up Old Buck on Seymour. And there I was, doing what I’d done since I converted my Kona Roast to a one-speed, since I bought my 2001 Mono-Cog, since I built up my Balfa MinuteMan, and since I magic-geared my ride at the time. I was standing up on the pedals, pulling on the bar with all my might, waggling my rig side to side, and fight-fight-fighting for traction. Slipping the wheel and losing valuable effort at least once every 10 meters.
And there Chris was, sitting on his saddle, driving his cranks around and around. Putting in a solid effort yes but no frothy wasted energy here. And he, possessing the necessary oxygen in his lungs to annunciate said calmly, friendly, and without judgment:
“You know Andrew, it’s a lot more efficient if you sit down.”
And I said, one syllable at a time, barely audible over the sound of my heart going supernova:
“You. Know. Chris. I. Can. Not. Turn. This. Gear. Ing. Sit. Ting.”
And here’s the thing, I can talk about choosing a gear ratio that bests works for your locale, strength, and fitness. And, I can talk about how even then you’ll be in the ‘wrong’ gear most of the time. But, the truth I’ve learned is that no matter what gear you choose, how fit & strong you are, and whether you prefer to sit, squat, or stand to grind it out up hills sometimes you don’t have a choice. Sometimes you have to sit and churn to earn every loose meter you climb.
Durning Churn-To-Earn season you’ll park that ass in your saddle so hard you’ll think it’s still there when you wake up the next morning. Every time the rear wheel slips you’ll push down even harder! You’ll shift your weight a bit rearward to drive your wheel into the ground and then use your arms, firmly gripping your bar, to row, row, row yourself up the hill with all your might. To stand is to walk. And I judge not for I have walked my #1FG bike a lot. But to walk is to surrender.
And so we pedaled up Seymour, and down Seymour, and through the demonstration forest, and up Fromme, and down Fromme, and then we had a beer. And in the many years since, and the many beers since, I certainly still stand up a lot when I climb my single speed. But I also remember when the sport surface gets loose, loose, loose over hard there’s really only one way to fight to the top.
As we’re experiencing late-August trail conditions at the beginning of July I’ve been experiencing a lot of Churn-To-Earn climbs. First finding traction, then finding power, and then keeping my legs potently pushing on those poor pedal platforms. It’s just what you have to do if you want to ride a single speed, and who doesn’t want to try single speeding?