3-State 3-Mountain 2001

The Magical Healing Powers of Burkhalter Gap

by Jeff Harris

There were many hours on the trainer, and many miles on the single speed road bike through the “off season”. People in their warm cars gave strange stares as I pedaled down to 20-degree days. Numerous rides were ended after hours in the saddle by wringing out gloves and pouring rain out of shoes. I was training for Burkhalter Gap, and was pretty well on schedule until March, when the knee pain started. A couple months on the injury/recovery roller coaster, in and out of the orthopedic surgeon’s office, and physical therapy (“beneficial sadism”), and I was back to a semblance of riding form. Though I had the doc’s blessing, it was with reservation: “You won’t do permanent damage, but you’ll limp with that knee for weeks afterward.” I took a week off the bike, strapped up the knee, and headed for Chattanooga.

On the week of the ride, Saturday’s forecast was seventy and cloudy. Friday, riding down Burkhalter Gap (“mountain reconnaissance”), I averaged 44 mph and topped 50 several times. On the way back up, no such luck, but I did ride it without problems (no stopping, tacking back and forth, and no hallucinations). The rain started halfway up, with lightning and thunder directly overhead near the top. On the Chattanooga side, I was stopped on the descent by a police roadblock (wreck). I discovered how poorly my brakes worked going down a mountain in the rain.

Saturday, my personal observation was 50 degrees and cloudy, windy, and drizzling. On the climb out of town, I found friends from Memphis, including several fellow Memphis Hightailers. I hooked-up with my ride partner for this year’s 3/3 (Scott Brumbelow) and we soon reached the Suck Creek climb. Suck Creek was longer—and less steep—than I remembered. The fog on the way up was thick, and even thicker on the downside. My riding glasses broke at the SAG, and this turned out to be a blessing—no fogged or rain-covered lenses for the rest of the ride.

There were at least two detours (due to flooding) on the valley roads between Suck Creek and Sand Mountain. Before Sand, we crossed Ladd’s Mountain, where one of the riders just behind us was trash-talking the climb, thinking it was Sand. When Sand actually started, my ride partner went up the road, I kept cranking, and the trash talker dismounted and walked a bit. Sand was steeper than I remembered. I hadn’t forgotten how the roads went to total garbage in Alabama, though. The top was wind-swept, rain blowing sideways, and chilly. I regretted carrying the extra jacket, vest, and arm warmers—until the top of Sand. The top of Lookout wasn’t any better, save for the rain.

Both last year and this year, the volunteers at the Bryant SAG were some of the nicest folks on the whole ride. (Daisy, please thank them again for me.) I don’t remember much about the ride between the descent of Sand and the start of Lookout, except that we were quite surprised when the climb sneaked-up at 70 miles (at 80 miles on the cue)! Strange, as we approached the climb on Burkhalter Gap road, instead of Creek road—looking at the flat road you’re on suddenly go up into the mountain is like a surreal painting. Ugh! We stopped at the mini-sag (much appreciated porta-potty!) to water the flowers, then headed up the climb. Of course, I was using my secret weapon: a triple chainring on the front with a 12-27 cassette on the back. Gears are my friends. Friday’s climb up Burkhalter Gap was slow, and Saturday’s was slower, but there was no stopping on either day. For some, just a hill. For me, a serious challenge any day, and after a few miles under my wheels, a daunting task—and now an accomplishment, one year in the making.

I discovered later that we were lucky to be allowed to descend Lookout into Chattanooga. Due to weather and extremely low visibility, many were stopped atop Lookout and shuttled down in trucks. We crossed the finish line at 90 miles, then turned around for another 10 in the streets of Chattanooga. My average speed was very low at the end of the ride, but crawling up the mountains and descending slowly and carefully add up to a low average, even with good speeds on the flats and rolling hills. The big surprise, though: at the bottom of Burkhalter Gap, I forgot about my knee pains. At the end of the ride, I remembered. Taking off the brace, they both felt the same—no problems at all. And, a week later, none since. This can only be due to the magical healing powers of Burkhalter Gap. Or is it something in the water?

 Jeff Harris

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