Mill Creek

Last weekend, I'd been feeling good for about 2 weeks. I'd felt good on P3 and P2 the previous weekend. I'd felt good all week since... It was time to do some proper climbing.

There are plenty of proper climbs in the Chattahoochee National Forest, but the one that I've really gotten to enjoy for the past couple of years is the Mill Creek Loop, AKA the Back Forty. It's not absolute murder, but it's a sustained, 13 miles of climbing. There might be a single roller near the overlook, but only one. You are climbing, non-stop, most of the time. I'm not aware of a longer climb in North Georgia. I think Corbin Creek is 12 miles. After the first 13 miles, you descend for about 1.5 miles, which goes by super quick, and then climb for another mile and a half. So, it really feels like you're climbing for like 16 miles.

The real challenge though, isn't the climbing, it's hydration. When it's in the 90's, and the heat index is in the 100's, it's a real challenge to do the loop straight through, on two 20oz bottles. I can do it. Or, lets say, I have done it, but I've always cut it pretty close. There are a few opportunities to tank up. Mill Creek itself runs along the side of the road for most of the way to Hickey Gap. When it's not a million degrees outside, there's a very convenient spring right by the road too. When it's hot though, you have to make some difficult decisions. Tank up in the creek at the bottom of the climb, and haul that extra weight up? Hit the one or two spots where the creek is near the road halfway up? Go well off-trail to get water from the creek later? Descend well into the campground, tank up, and climb back out? Gamble on the spring?

It's easy to skip opportunities and wish you hadn't.

Adventure!

Excited by the prospect of all that, I found myself on my way up to Mulberry Gap, again, for the third time in almost as many weeks, this past Sunday. As usual, I arrived pretty late in the day, having watched dozens of cars loaded with bikes going the other way on the drive up, and having kicked myself for being lazy.

When I got there, Kate was there with Leroy, their new dog.

I'd seen Andrew taking him for a walk like 2 weeks earlier. He's big, but he's still a puppy.

There's a new cat too. I want to say that it showed up in Alaina's yard the day she was leaving to move up here, so she brought it with her. Something like that. It's a small cat, but it appears to be full grown. I gave him so many scratches, and that eventually turned into attacking my hand and playing. He plays really nice though, no claws. Leroy became super jealous of all this though, so I gave him all kinds of scratches and pats and dog hugs too.

Ahh, animals.

Alaina and Jackie were introducing the new guy (can't remember his name) to the Cohutta Cat when I was getting ready to head out.

It looks like the Cohutta Cat is pissed in this photo, but he was actually super sweet and friendly to the new guy. Hopefully they'll be cat bros.

Enough animals though, time to get down to business.

It's pretty much downhill from MGap to the Crandall-Ellijay Road, and I made quick work of it. With the heat we've been having, Holly Creek has become super popular to just lie around in, and probably a hundred people were doing just that. It looked really, really great. Mid-week I keep remembering that I need to do rides that put me at or near a creek at the end, for that post-ride soak, but then I forget when it comes time to actually do it.

The Crandall-Ellijay Road is like 5 or 6 miles in, and if it's even a net climb, it's slight. I don't count it among the climbing on the route, but there are a few kicks.

The real climbing starts at about mile 10, when you turn on to Mill Creek Road. It's pavement for like a half mile, but then becomes gravel.

I want to say that the first mile or two are a little steeper than the next several, so you get to see how you're feeling right there, 10 miles in, with only a very long climb back, in either direction.

Adventure! (again)

I felt alright. Strong, even. I saw the first opportunity to tank up, but one bottle was full, and the other was at maybe 80%. If I could get to the ridge (about 19 miles in) on one bottle, then I felt like I could finish, comfortably, on the second. So, that was my yardstick.

When the climb eased up, I felt even better. I saw the various other opportunites to get water, but at every chance, it looked like I'd be able to make it to the ridge on just the one, so I didn't stop. The spring was completely dry when I got to it. I felt a tingle of panic when I saw that, but checking my first bottle, I still felt safe. At some point, there are just no more opportunities for water, and you really have to decide whether to keep going or turn back. The stretch from the last opportunity to the ridge seemed longer than I remembered, but I had been able to tempo climb almost all of it, and I seemed to be on target.

One funny thing...

Somewhere in there, I heard all kinds of violent rustling uphill to my left, and I immediately thought bear. A second later, I actually saw the brush rustling violently, but still couldn't see what was rustling it. Then, a second later, yep, it was a bear. It had been way up in a tree, seen me, freaked out, climbed down, and then took off up the hillside. It was a pretty small bear, too. Not a cub, but smaller than any bear that I'd seen on its own before. It made me wonder for a second if it was just a big cub and mom was nearby, but no, there was no mom. Just that one.

Woo! Bear!

I did, in fact, make it to the ridge (Rough Ridge?) on a single bottle. And I wasn't rationing or anything, just drinking normally. Unless something bad happened, I ought to be able to make it back on the other one.

The climb up and along the ridge doesn't look all that much steeper than the Mill Creek Road climb in the elevation profile, but it is. I think it's a bunch of little kicks and near-flats. I can't tempo-climb it, but I was able to climb it comfortably. I never felt like "man, I wish I had another gear".

It is worth noting that I wasn't fully loaded though. My frame bags are always on the bike, but only the top one had anything in it, and it wasn't my full compliment of bikepacking gear, just bike-repair stuff, food, phone, wallet, and a shirt for filler. I've climbed it loaded and unloaded though. Loaded, I've wished I had another gear. Unloaded, I have too, but not on a good day.

About 2/3rds of the way to the Overlook, there was a car coming the other way, super, super slowly. The driver was creeping forwards, stomping the brakes, skidding slightly in the gravel as they almost came to a stop, letting off the brakes for a second, stomping them again, skidding again, etc. It was what you'd do if your goal was to maximize lack of control. I've seen people do that kind of thing before - the road gets steep and scary, and they want to just creep down it, but it's too loose to creep down it at the speed they want to, and they end up skidding constantly. You have to go a little faster, feather the brakes, and take longer to stop, but if you're scared, that's a tough sell. I hope they made it down safely.

I stopped for a bit at the overlook, as one does.

The recent graffiti cracked me up:

That second one? Do they mean, "We recommend that you eat ass, and we also recommend that you do crime" or "We feel like if you are eating ass, then you are committing a crime" or something else? IDK. I feel like I'm out of touch with modern culture for not immediately understanding that one.

It's pretty steep from the overlook up to FS68 and I walked the last hundred yards or so. A guy passed me and offered me a ride, but I declined. I wasn't walking because I was tired. I was walking because I had managed to do some nerve damage downtown, and there's one little spot that has no sensation. It's easy to end up leaning on it for a while without realizing it and cutting off circulation to some other parts. It takes a while to notice though, so I'll be riding along and suddenly realize that I can't feel a lot of stuff down there. The only solution is to walk a bit until senstion returns. It happens on extended, steep kicks, but it's getting better.

It's a little more shallow on FS68, but you still climb.

I climbed, for a bit, then it was over. Woo! The next mile and a half or so were pretty well downhill. I milked it for all I could, and it's a nice downhill, you can relax on it. It's not so absurdly steep that you're working all the way down or anything. But, it's not very long, and you really don't get a lot of rest. It just takes the edge off.

The last climb dragged on, and I think I might have walked a hundred yards or so of it. I don't really remember.

There is one more little kick near Potatopatch, but you can kind of carry it.

Done!

And, pretty much out of water. If I'd stopped and taken the tops off of the bottles, I could have gotten one more mouthful, but there was no more to be had directly. No matter though, I'd taken my last big gulp as I pulled over the last hill, and it was all downhill from there.

Coming down from Potatopatch, I did get into some deep washboards at very high speed, and had to let the seat come up and hit me in the chest, which was scary, especially as I didn't notice them at all until I was right on top of them. I remember Travis hitting something almost just like that coming down off of Winding Stair years ago. I immediately thought of that when I did it. It turned out ok, but it could have been ugly.

I stopped for a minute at the Bear Creek Overlook (again, as one does).

But there was a truck parked there, and I couldn't get a good view of Fort Mountain.

C'est la vie.

I don't remember much about the rest of the descent, except that I didn't hit any yellow jackets at 54.3 MPH, which is generally good.

And that was it!

Success!

Good, solid, tempo climbing. Marginal discomfort. Hydration gambles all paid off. 12 PRs!

I'm calling it a win.

The only thing I didn't win, which I didn't expect to, was dinner. I'd started too late, and expected to make it back too late for dinner. It turned out that I did make it back in time, but since I hadn't signed up for dinner before I left, there was no way now.

Fortunately, there is food in downtown Ellijay, and I got some shrimp and fries at River Street Tavern. They were good, but I lamented my decision when I saw the burgers come out for the guys next to me. Next time I'm there, I'm ordering a burger.

The drive home was uneventful, except for a little rain, and I even made it back in time to hang out at Siracusa's for an hour or so before calling it a night.

More days like that, please!