I started cycling two years ago when I naïvely went on this ride, joining only because I had no clue about what was intended. We ended up doing 55km (34 miles), which was probably 10× what I had ever ridden before. I was invigorated to have done so easily what I would have imagined would be impossible, so I decided to set out on a “real” ride, a longer, hillier one done with intention.

So a week later, on Feb 7 2015, I did another ride — what I now consider my first “real” bicycle ride — a 91km (57mi) course through snowy mountains. I blogged about it in “Attempting a 100km Bike Ride in the Mountains of Kyoto” and its followup. The long mountainous course went through the middle of nowhere, far from any kind of services; I could consider such a ride, particularly in the middle of winter, only because I was woefully, stupendously, sumptuously ignorant of everything involved.

Earlier this week, on the two-year anniversary of that “first real ride”, I repeated it. This time, I headed into it with 15,000km (9,300mi) of cycling experience.

On the initial ride two years ago, a photo of this exact spot shows no trace of snow. Despite the snow this time, the road surface was still fine.

By the time the first big climb started at the Kurama Hot Spring, the road had some slush on it but it was easily ridable, but I didn't have to go much farther for the road surface to become much more difficult:

A particular curve on the road holds special memory for me, as the first place I actually stopped for a rest on that first climb (mentioned here). As I rode the same mountain again over subsequent months, riding past this point without stopping became somewhat symbolic for me, until I was finally able to do the whole thing without stopping.

Today was different, though. By this time the road surface had become difficult to ride on. The difficulty was not because there was too much snow, but because of its nature: it was hard-packed “almost ice” that sometimes the bike could ride on, and sometimes not. When the bike could ride on the surface of this stuff, it was a bit slippery, but easy going. But more often, the weight of the bike caused each tire to break through the surface, and the tire would have to shove through this hard thick layer like an ice breaker struggling against thick ice (which uses its power to push the bow up onto the ice until enough weight is over the ice to break through).

It was like riding with two brakes on; it was very slow going.

I wasn't kidding when I said that the road surface made for slow going. It's not that I was trying for speed in the first place, but it took ridiculously long to get here from the hot spring.

On that initial ride two years ago it took 48 minutes, and I was much faster on subsequent attempts, eventually reaching my current PR (personal record) of just under 29 minutes. But on this two-year anniversary ride, my 29th climb up this hill, it took more than 58 minutes! I knew I was slow, but this was shocking.

As slow as the climb was, the descent down the other side was even worse, taking more than 4× as long as typical. On the way up I had to contend with the “ice breaker” effect of the road surface, but on the descent I also had to worry that when in “ice breaker” mode, the front tire would get a mind of its own as far as direction.

Also, just like an icebreaker that rises over the ice until heavy enough to break through, repeating this sequence over and over, sometimes the tires would do this as well, making it feel like I was riding a jackhammer instead of a bicycle.

It was dicey at times, and combine with the general slippery nature of things, I went very slowly, far more slowly than even climbing the same road. Instead of my best-ever time of 11:24 for the descent, it took 47:20. My best time to make the same climb is 28:54

It was slow going, but beautiful.

I dressed well, and was warm for the whole ride, except during the descent my fingers became bitterly cold. It seemed sudden, the change from “warm and toasty” to “so freain' painful I can't stop crying”.

There's some kind of park-related cafe on the route... the only business/services of any kind for the bulk of the ride, and I was hoping to make it there for coffee and noodles before having to do something about my fingers. But I just couldn't stand it, and had to stop to put in little hand-warmer heater packs I'd brought along. Trying to first warm up my fingers by shoving them under my armpits did indeed warm them up, but it was exquisitely painful. I should have stopped sooner to put in the hand warmers; it was a miscalculation to think the two pair of gloves I had would be sufficient.

My toes were getting a bit chilly, and I had extra warmers to put in, but I'd wait until I got to the cafe.

By the time I got to the cafe, I was so ready for a hot cup of coffee and a warm space heater.

To be continued...