Tandemonium

We stopped for breakfast at Kula Lodge (3,200-ft.) on the Santana tour descent.

Sunrise Market at 3,500-ft.

1. 
   
   
   
   My camera battery died at approximately 6,000-ft. so I have no photos after that. I have come to hate the small and specialized batteries in pocket "point-and-shoot" cameras. I have found that it is only a matter of time before they let you down and the aftermarket replacement batteries never seem to be able to hold an adequate charge. I have been using a Fuji waterproof camera that worked really well. I need the waterproof feature because the camera will get wet in my jersey pocket on a hot day even if it doesn't rain. As soon as I got home I started a search for a waterproof pocket camera that uses AA batteries so I can carry spares in my tool bag. I found only one and bought it: a Kodak Easyshare Sport. This is the only pocket camera I found with the features that I wanted. Amazon still has them so you should buy one now if you are interested as Kodak has filed for bankruptcy protection and is no longer producing cameras.
   


2. 
   
   
   
   My iPhone battery went dead at the park entrance at 7,500-ft. The climb was taking longer than anticipated (more about that later) so I called Stoker Kim at the park entrance
   to tell her about my progress and ETA. I had been using the MapMyRide app to record my route and elevation profile and I saw that the phone battery was at 15% charge remaining when I called Stoker Kim. I was surprised at the battery drain as I was using it with the screen shut off and was only running MapMyRide in the background. But I only got about 5-hours life out of it and not I was faced with having no record of completing my climb (no route record, climbing profile or photos). That was disappointing as most people would assume that I was lying if I said I summited without proof.
   


3. 
   
   
   
   The weather turned to crap. Anyone who does this ride should expect this to happen. I did and was well prepared with adequate extra clothes in my backpack. But that didn't make it less of a challenge. At 6,000-ft. things were looking good. I was in Sunshine and was above the clouds. At 8,000-ft. I was in heavy rain, low visibility and fierce unpredictable winds. The wind would come from various angles, sometimes flowing down the mountain and sometimes flowing up the mountain. It would also seem to flow in "chutes" of concentrated gusts that I learned to anticipate by watching the flow of the rain. I could actually see the rain being driven in the "wind chutes" and at least know when I was entering one. I am a quick learner and figured this out after being blown off the bike for the second time.
   


4. 
   
   
   
   Most importantly was a problem with my Schlumpf crankset that started at approximately 4,000-ft. The Schlumpf achieves the lower range through an internal planetary gear. This requires the bottom bracket to be held completely fixed in the bottom bracket housing. If it slips, as mine did, it gives the effect of a slipping clutch. If I stood up or applied too much force to the pedals it would spin the bottom bracket and slip, as if a clutch was slipping, providing no power to the rear wheel. This meant that I had to spin the rest of the way up the mountain at high RPM applying only the lightest pressure to the pedals.
   
   
   Above 4,000-ft. you can look back toward the ocean and see progress.
   
   This shows more progress and the long switch-backs on the slopes of the mountain.
   
   Downhill tours are a common sight.

This was one of my last photos taken at approximately 6,000-ft. Things are looking good. The sun is shining and I am above the clouds.

Until the failure of the Schlumpf my strategy was to ride seated until I became uncomfortable at which time I would shift up a few gears and stand. This is a common technique that allows the rider to get out of the saddle and use some different muscles until tiring of this and sitting back down and settling into another session of seated climbing. The slipping Schlumpf eliminated using this important technique and I was forced to climb the remaining 6,000-ft. seated. This resulted in a prolonged period of discomfort (I didn't look it up but that is likely to be Webster's definition of agony: "prolonged discomfort") and I was happy to have functioning gentleman parts at the end of the day.

I pressed on at high RPM but slow speed. The weather kept getting worse all the way to the top with temperatures in the high 30s-F at the summit.

It was very challenging to continue to the top as it was very easy to rationalize turning around and coasting back to warmth and a tropical drink at Mama's. And it isn't my fault that the Schlumpf was slipping. No one would blame me. And I could always come back and try again. Yea, that's it. It would even give me a reason to return to Maui. I can claim some "bucket list" BS and get another vacation to Hawaii from Stoker Kim out of it.

On the other hand, every elevation marker made it more difficult to buy into the rationalization to turn around. When I was at 4,000-ft. and the Schlumpf started slipping I remember telling myself that if I could make it to the park entrance at 7,500-ft. then surely I could finish. That would mean that the Schlumpf wasn't getting any worse and I should be able to gut it out the rest of the way.

Then at 8,000-ft. I was 4/5 of the way there. Surely it wouldn't make sense to quit now. At 9,000-ft. there was no turning back. The weather kept getting worse but it didn't matter as it was only a matter of time to the summit. A lot of time at the pace I was going, but just some time and a little more discomfort.

About 1-mile from the summit I had an apparition of an angel. No, it was real. It was Stoker Kim passing me in her rental car on her way to the summit. She rightly guessed that I didn't need any more time in the saddle after the past 8-hours so she drove up to offer me a ride back down which I happily accepted. And, as the only one around with a functioning camera, she was able to snap the following two photos of me at the summit.

The clouds parted briefly as Stoker Kim took this photo at the very top at slightly over 10,000-ft. elevation.

It was a day full of adversity. But most things worth achieving are somewhat difficult. I think my memory of it will be enhanced by the hardship and the pain. But I still have an excuse to go back to Maui to do this again as I would like to complete this ride in better form.

Either way, now when I look at Haleakala I can see it as shrouded in the tears of the riders who have climbed her, including my own.

Thanks for reading.