The Blue Sky Hill Climb: A Bucket-List Ride for Every Climber

In the 1980s, our cycling club rode the Mount Evans Hill Climb — now known as the Blue Sky Hill Climb — several times. We were in our 20s, some of us in college; we rode all over the Rockies, but this hill offers a one-of-a-kind experience. Back then, my Bianchi Veloce had Campagnolo Record components; the frame was aluminum with a carbon-fiber front fork. Cool stuff at the time. I never broke any hill-climb records, but on one Saturday morning, I was the fastest among all our club members to reach the summit. That glorious, totally superficial victory also earned me the greatest prize of all — I didn't have to pay for Beau Jo's pizza for the rest of the year.

The climb is legendary. Every cyclist should attempt this. The actual race: only register to ride it to prove to yourself that you are a climber and can compete. The road has always had a mystique about it among non-Colorado cyclists. Coloradoans knew what it represented: grit, endurance, suffering — not to mention you are riding on the highest paved road in North America.

Funny thing, I had more butterflies before those starts than before any criterium or road race, ever. I was fit, competitive, and mostly confident, but nothing fully prepares you mentally or physically for a climb with 6,700 feet of elevation gain over 27 miles, starting at 7,500 feet above sea level and ending at 14,130 feet above sea level. To start, the road is deceptively manageable, winding upward through the trees with long, steady grades, like most mountain rides. But the higher you go, the more the mountain slowly changes the rules. The flat landers who didn't bother doing their recon start ripping it early, wondering "what's your problem," as they pedal past — but soon enough, you, with your high revs, casually pass them up, their faces twisted in agony, searching for oxygen.

As the trees thin out, the air does too. Your heart rate doubles — no monitor needed to let you know that. Legs begin asking questions your mind doesn't want to answer. Each pedal stroke burns more than the last. The club members who looked strong lower on the mountain suddenly fade back. Speed, a thing of the past. You'd best concentrate on your cadence and breathing, embrace the pain, and keep your mind on the prize: free pizza.

I wonder if I would have the guts to ride that Veloce up Blue Sky today? Maybe I should dust it off and see — nah. Now my calculations consider where I can shave grams, what cassette to install, and the minimum number of gels to pack. Back then, we stuffed our pockets with Fig Newtons, extra water bottles, and cassettes; you rode what came on the bike.

Later this summer, just for fun, I am excited to take on the hill, compare my time with my 25-year-old self — only this time while riding a 14.56 lb. Factor O2 VAM (with twice as many gears as the Veloce) — and see if reaching the summit is as sweet as it was way back then. I bet it will be, and so will bombing back down to Beau Jo's for a slice.