About 800 cyclists joined before the starting time of 8 AM EST at the First Tennessee Pavilion in downtown Chattanooga for a mass start out of town led once again by the city’s mayor. The weather was overcast and cool with threatening rain clouds to the west and north. There was a logjam of cyclists all awaiting a spot in the mass peloton as the “Start” command was given. Spouses, children, fiancées, and friends all shouted out hearty well wishes as we exited the downtown area of the city.

I was giddy from all the attention that we cyclists got from onlookers as traffic cops held up traffic when we passed through city intersections. We finally passed over a bridge spanning the Tennessee River and from that point it seemed the pace of the riders picked up. Within a few miles after crossing the bridge the 25 mile ride branched off—I saw only one person take the fork for the quarter century route. The rest of us pedaled on with more mileage on our brains paralleling for several miles the banks of the Tennessee River.

The first major climb, Suck Creek Mountain, began about 10 miles from the starting point, and once we started climbing the macho folks started passing us ‘weeny’ boys. I did climb the 4.5 miles to the summit faster by several minutes compared to last year’s ride. The official photographer for this event had a cameraman positioned about two-thirds of the way up the mountain. As we approached him struggling to turn one crank arm after another, his plea for us to smile for the camera met at least in my case with a frown. Once I got to the first food stop which came about 15 miles into the ride, I filled up my water bottles—I had started with the empty bottles because there was no water available at the starting point. It took about 3 minutes for me to get on my way, and I had forgotten that there was still some more climbing to get through before we reached the apex of this climb. For the descent down the mountain I decided to not go full throttle, there were some slick spots from a misty rain that was falling. We reached Powell’s Crossroads and toured through the backroads of Hamilton County and Marion County. The countryside was very pretty-the air smelled good. Foreboding clouds hugged Lookout Mountain which loomed ahead and I knew I was gonna be climbing it in a few hours. I was really hoping those clouds did not mean we were going to be rained on as we climbed the backside of Lookout. Not too far from this point I bypassed the second food stop—I had ample water. At mile 42 or thereabouts a decision point comes—take the left fork for about 21 more miles ( a metric century) back to the starting point or the right fork for another 58 miles (a full century). Unlike the lines from the Robert Frost poem “The Road Not Taken”, I took the right fork that seemingly invited more pedalers.

I was again paralleling the Tennessee River/Lake Nickajack for the next 30 minutes. I missed a turn I should have made at about mile 50 and was headed for South Pittsburgh. After about 6 miles of not seeing any of those lavender road markers, I finally decided I had strayed off course and it was now time to back track. Once I got back onto course, it wasn’t too long until I crossed over into Alabama—-Rollllll Tide!—and of course the climb up Sand Mountain began. This was an easier climb than the Suck Creek Mountain ascent.. I rode in tandem up the mountain with several riders and we talked very little as we struggled. I heard lots of groaning and some cussing. It could have been me but I’m not sure. At the top of Sand Mountain we were rewarded with a beautiful view of the valley we had just traversed less than a half hour before. One thing I noticed on the climb up the mountain was all the trash dumped on the side of the road. Among the household trash I saw were home appliances—stoves, refrigerators—it was disgusting to see some of this kind of stuff jettisoned by trashy people without concern of where it might land. A few miles from the scenic vista was the third food stop, and I tanked up my water bottles. The Alabama-Georgia border was not too far from this point. About mile 78 I began the descent off Sand Mountain, and at the bottom of the mountain on one sharp turn there was a cyclist who failed to make the curve and was laying in a heap attended to by fellow cyclists and a sheriff’s deputy. I passed by with a sympathetic look—there was no reason to stop since there was a crowd of people around him. A couple minutes later an ambulance passed by me presumably in route to pick him up for a hospital visit.

One last climb remained that being the Burkhalter’s Gap Road. Just prior to this climb I stopped at the fourth food stop to top off my water bottles and next came the toughest climb of the day. My granny gear allowed me to slowly climb up this road which seemed to be far steeper than the other two major climbs of the day. The other climbs had plenty of turns and bends which would give me hope that around that next turn the gradient would ease. On Burkhalter’s Gap Road there were few turns and from the bottom of the climb the road seemed to stretch to heaven with no relief. After climbing halfway up, I had leg cramps so bad I finally had to get off my bike and walk for a while. One fellow who was just ahead of me also got off his bicycle and walked slightly ahead. I asked if I could draft off him as we walked. Some yahoo dressed in a devil’s costume challenged me as I walked past and told me for my sin of walking I was going to have to restart the climb from the bottom of the mountain. Fat Chance!!! The last quarter mile the gradient seemed to become even more severe. Argghhhhh!!! I am not sure if the girls in the bikinis were making fun of me or cheering me on. Maybe that was a hallucination—I don’t know.

At the top of the mountain, now about mile 92, I bypassed food stop five and was joined by Melissa Miller—we rode together for 3-4 miles and my leg cramps made me get off my bike for a few minutes. I bid Melissa farewell as she rode off in the distance. Soon came the big descent off Lookout Mountain. Someone at the start of the descent warned me about wet pavement and accidents. My brain failed to register what they said. At the bottom of the mountain was the second serious accident of the day that I saw the results of. A man who appeared to be around 60 years old looked like he had slid on wet pavement and had broken teeth and maybe broken an arm. The last two miles traffic cops were at every major intersection directing traffic and allowing us cyclists clear sailing back to out starting point—First Tennessee Pavillion. My wife Emily and daughter Heather were awaiting my arrival and I was certainly glad to see them.

The only person from the Highland Rim Bicycle Club I saw on the entire ride aside from those people at the start was Melissa Miller. At the beginning of the ride I did notice Bob Crook, Denny Elston, Ken and Debbie Gamache, Matt Johnson, Terri Jones, Rebecca McCool, Kim Hopkins. I also know that Tom Leanza and Jack Shuttleworth were on the ride but I don’t think I ever saw those fellows.

I think great compliments should be made to the Chattanooga Bike Club, and also the city of Chattanooga with their various departments who helped us do this ride. Not enough can be said for those traffic cops—mostly women—who helped us cyclists naviagate the streets of Chattanooga at the beginning and the end of the ride.

I had a great time on this ride. My odometer said 112 miles and it took me over 8 hours to complete the ride. I plan to be back next year, and I am envious of all the people who plan to do the Mount Mitchell ride this year.

This is a great sport!!!

Mike Rutherford

Editor note: last 2 pictures are of Tullahoma resident’s bike after a crash at this event. Details are unknown, but the rider was not hurt badly.

(Photos above courtesy Mike Rutherford)