If we'd followed the original plan for this testing jag, we'd be done by now. A recent comment on the previous blog reminded me that there are a lot of people who are sitting there thinking "so... ?" The simple explanation is that Mike and I were talking about the wind tunnel menu, and decided to pitch it as a story. Homer on the first pitch on that part, but there were suddenly a whole lot more logistics, and they all required input from people who were really busy with what was going on in France. We got delayed a bit, but it's a way better outcome for us, and it inspired us to double down on the tunnel piece.
Anyhow, the wind tunnel starts tomorrow and we're testing a pantload of stuff. More on that later. Today was a side trip to Beech Mountain, near Boone, NC, to do some more brake heat testing. The test was simple: do three runs down the 3 mile stretch that's the crux of the climb from the south, a section known for killing carbon clinchers. I'd have liked to do 20 runs, but it was just me and no way was I climbing that thing 20 times, especially since I was back on the "kettle bells in a backpack" program.
I always seem to take pictures like this. The hills in Western NC are big, for real hills. Beech isn't necessarily very long, but it's steep, with some crazy pitches, and it's all switchbacks so it's a fairly technical descent. This particular climb also has an interesting bit of history. It was used as the finishing climb of the Tour duPont a few times, and is supposedly the place where, in 1998, Lance decided that he did indeed want to come back from testicular cancer and be a pro cyclist again. Which explains the still-very-likely-to-be-ironic "Viva Lance" slogan freshly painted on the road near the top.
Rail 34s once again, although different ones than the ones from VT, and SwissStop Black Prince pads. New Michelin Pro4 SCs, tubes, set to 95 front/100 rear. It was a WINDY day, and cool for the time of year - mid 60s. The first run down, I had the full 40 pounds in the bag, and tried to mimic what I thought a very timid descender would do. I let myself gain speed, but then scrubbed speed whenever I got going faster than what a lot of people would be comfortable with. Before turns, I braked really hard and went through the turns slowly. I stopped 4 times to check rim temperature. Max heat recorded was just over 200f.
Second run, I was down to 175 on the scale, thanks to a miracle diet known as leaving a 25 pound kettle bell at the bottom of the hill. Still had to climb up with the 15, though. Second run was more of a constant low-20s run. Never got going too fast, never had that much speed that I had to get rid of. Turns were similar speed to the first run. As expected, this heated things up quite a bit. After 90 seconds or so of constant braking through the steepest pitches, the front rim got up to 213f, which was the highest recorded temp, even though rider weight was lower. After about 5 seconds, heat was down to 186. Each check was similar, just not quite as high.
Third run, I was down to body weight (still 158) and just ripped the downhill. Absolutely sent it. Wow. My job's fun. Unfortunately, I got stuck behind cars about halfway down so I couldn't go as fast as I wanted, but the fun part's at the top anyhow. Rim temp after the stop at the bottom was a blistering 126.
This part of things isn't pure science, we know, and it's not designed to be. It's designed to expose things that happen in the real world, quantify them, and interpret what it means. In this case, what it means is that a Rail has no problem being ridden down one of the most iconic descents in the east, either by a timid 200 pounder, or a 175 pounder who's a bit more enthusiastic but doing it all wrong. And that they're fun as hell when a 160 pounder gives them full stick down it.