Photo By Tom Zhai Valley Sunrise on Greenfield Road, Gaspereau, NS
“Inspired by the highest mountain on Earth, Everesting tops the list as the world’s most difficult climbing challenge. The rule is simple – ‘pick a hill, climb up and down it in one activity with no sleep until reaching the vertical elevation of Mt. Everest: 8,848 metres, or 29,029 feet.’” – Hells 500
Mountains asleep. Morning mists blanket the hillside vineyard. Roaming through darkness under the glimmering moonlight, my bicycle lights illuminate the asphalts on Wolfville Ridge. After a short descent, I drop down to the community of Gaspereau, arriving at the base of Greenfield Road. In the next 2.2 kilometres, I will wind my way up 196 vertical metres, cresting the South Mountain. Since there is no landmark that signifies the top, an interesting-looking pothole becomes my cue for return. If my body holds up, the South Mountain will keep me company until the next sunrise.
8,848 metres (46 laps) is astronomical. I struggle to put into perspective the sheer magnitude of racking up this much climb in one single ride. Prior to this day, my biggest distance and elevation profile – 422 kilometres coupled with 4,795 metres of ascent – occurred on day 1 of the 2024 Transcontinental Race (TCR), where I rode through the night from Roubaix in northern France to Saarbrücken in southwestern Germany. Everesting requires twice the ascent.
Just as I was about to begin after dropping last-minute kits at the Gaspereau Community Centre (shoutouts to Chris Gertridge for lending me the venue), a car pulls into the driveway.
“Who in the world is this?” I mumbled.
There comes Matthew Hazel and Keeli Smith.
“6:30 AM on a Sunday?” I shouted. Matt teaches Biology at Acadia – kind, funny, and supportive. Kind-hearted, Keeli works in healthcare, always volunteering to take on holiday shifts so that her teammates can enjoy family time. Matt and Keeli are no strangers to the 6:30 AM crew at the Acadia Fitness Centre. However, turning up at the crack of dawn on a Sunday was still a surprise.
“We thought we’d stop by to cheer you on,” Matt said. “How do you feel?”
“Oh, quite nervous,” I bantered, “It made a difference knowing that I was not off to a pitch-black start alone, hah.”
With the synchronous sounds of helmet locking, Wahoo recording, and cleats clipping, I set off. That first leg out of the Community Centre, that first metre of ascent, I feel unstoppable.
How am I supposed to comprehend the absurdity of climbing the height of Mt. Everest? I make sense of it by breaking the ride down into manageable one-thousand-metre segments so I can seek confidence from familiar experiences.
0 – 1,000 metres (6:50 AM)
Shouldn’t feel a thing
In no time, I am about to summit the first lap. My motto is, at least within the first thousand metres (roughly 5 laps), my legs shouldn’t feel a thing. In other words, I ride with a mental brake on because doing the most intuitive thing – hammering hard when legs are fresh – will make me pay later. Seeing the sky brighten up and the majestic sea of clouds hover over the valley basin and then dissipate is an experience I will never forget.
Peaceful Morning in Gaspereau, NS (shots from Greenfield Road)
1,000 – 2,000 metres
Morning paradise
I am on track, if not a bit faster, according to my planned elevation to time ratio – 500 metres of ascent per hour of riding. My pace has been steady, 18 minutes of ascent and 3 minutes of descent. Legs are all warmed up and far from fatigue. Bird chirping and valley breeze keep me company – I am simply riding in heaven. What a time to be out!
2,000 – 3,000 metres
Been there before – business as usual
The sun is directly above me. Clinging to my ears – “Daylight” by Sheppard on repeat. My longer rides before this point routinely feature elevation profile of around 2,000 metres. As such, the 2,000-3,000-metre segment represents a transition point from comfort zone to the unknown. As I approach 3,000 metres, fatigue eventually finds its way to my legs. To reset, I begin taking small refueling breaks. Hilariously, it is also during this segment that I lost count of my lap number and, therefore, resorted to looking at the altimeter number recorded on the Wahoo Roam to monitor my progress.
3,000 – 4,000 metres (12:30 PM)
Roadside Party
At the bottom of Greenfield Road, Alan Power rolls in effortlessly. Alan is a long-distance cyclist here in the province and currently serves as the VP for the NS Randonneurs Team. Prior to the attempt, I asked Alan to keep it low-key so that there would not be a crowd of people gathering in case I could not finish the challenge. Alan and I catch up while I barbarically gulp down spring water coming from a roadside faucet – the afternoon sun is getting to me. We ride side by side for 3 climbs, throughout which we discuss our mentors in endurance cycling, set-up for bike races, and future challenges.
“They say ‘your legs are supposed to get you to 6,000 metres and your mind will get you the rest of the way,’” I laughed, “but I am already running on my mental reserve 3,000 metres in.”
As we are chatting, Keeli returns, honking cheerfully and cruising by us. With funky honks and out-of-the-car-window cheers, the road never feels so alive. What’s more? Once we descend, Keeli and Faith are there holding the cutest home-made signs of encouragement! Such roadside festivity gives me so much mental boost that giving up is not on my mind anymore – bring on the climbs!
4,000 – 5,000 metres
Oh boy…
Unlike what I anticipated, the most challenging stretch of my Everesting attempt turns out to be the 4,000-5,000-metre segment. Without Keeli, Faith, and Alan’s company, I have to sit with solitude. Under the scorching sun, I take on the climb one pedal stroke at a time. As my body and metabolism (struggle to) respond to the relentless ascent amidst the afternoon heat, I want to take shelter from many things – muscle soreness, heat shock, hunger episodes, appetite loss, and, of course, the endlessly remote finish line.
When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. So, I tune into uplifting podcasts, starting with Meaghan Hackinen’s Tour Divide podcast, then “Lael Rides Around the World”, and finally the “Women Who Race” series by Lost Dot. I drown out the crippling exhaustion with inspiring people and their resilient stories. When fatigue hits me, I use my aerobars as arm rest (most riders leave aerobars at home for Everesting to lighten up the load, but I was too lazy to take mine off). When cars pass by, I give each driver a big smile. Some drivers return a wave, which is enough to keep me motivated and grateful to take on this challenge.
5,000 – 6,000 metres (7:40 PM)
Reveling in the night shift
Crimson sky fades into navy-blue infinity, which then morphs into pitch-black abyss that fuses with the expansive field of trees up on Greenfield Road. As temperature plummets, sweat accumulated during the day begins to settle. According to my most ideal pacing plan, I would wave goodbye to daylight upon hitting 6,000 metres, leaving a bit over two thousand metres for the night shift. However, since I fell behind my schedule, I only reached 5,400 vertical by sunset. Nevertheless, one of the many perks of ultra-cycling is intimately experiencing the golden hours. Today, I get to ride into a magical sunset, viewing the blazing skyline transition into calming dusk – Mother Nature’s masterpiece.
6,000 – 7,000 metres
Making it to safety
With the night fully set in, I must descend carefully and watch out for wildlife. The sense of alertness outweighs fatigue. At this point, my body has adapted to the demand of this ride and has long tuned into the conditions. Right after hitting the 6,000-metre mark, cars begin to pull into the Gaspereau Valley Elementary School. Seeing discombobulated drivers express interest or concern of seeing a cyclist’s flashing taillight heading into the dense dark woods is an amusing scene, making this adventure all the while light-hearted.
In endurance challenges, DNF stands for “did not finish.” Even though only successful Everesting attempts are reported, Andy van Bergen, Founder of Everesting, revealed, in a podcast, that DNFs typically happen before 7,000 metres. As such, the 7,000-metre mark is my mental safety net. In other words, all I need is to get to 7,000 metres. The notion that I am approaching the safety zone keeps me grateful for how far I have come. With steadfast determination, I wage war at the road ahead and up.
7,000 – 8,000 metres:
Flipping the script – all eyes on the descent
Deep into the night, cold sets in. My sweat-and-sunscreen-marinated jersey begins to harden. With nothing but my bib shorts, cycling jersey along with a thin jacket, I am battling single-digit temperature. With the insides soaked, I feel the chill down every descent.
7,000 vertical metres is a monumental step. Although I worry about colliding with wildlife during descent, I quickly realize that Mother Nature has always kept me safe, from adventures in my backyard here in the valley to the arduous Transcontinental Race. The wind picks up. Leaves begin to rustle and dance in the air. I see these as subtle cues that Mother Nature is cheering me on. How can I be lonely when nature is on my side? Mentally refreshed and physically on par, I only have to brace for the cold.
8,000 – 8,848 metres:
Final moments
It is hard to describe the feeling of hitting 8,000 metres. Even though my climbing pace has dropped from the initial 7.5 km/hour to the 4.5 km /hour, I am still in high spirits, and surprisingly so. Am I supposed to suffer at this point? The night shift has treated me so well that I feel excited and capable of finishing this challenge – a challenge that I struggled to put into perspective in the beginning. Yes, I am wobbling on my bike, doing the serpentine to alleviate the climbing gradient. Nevertheless, I feel grateful for the valley landscape that reinvigorates my soul; I feel grateful for people who have supported me before and during the event; I feel grateful for my body for holding up so well; I feel grateful for Meaghan Hackinen for her dedicated mentorship; and I am indebted, most importantly, to my mom for reminding me to smell the flowers when I am out there.
8,849 – 9,012 metres (5:34 AM)
Capping it off
On a remote, high-mountain village in Kosovo, I saw a little boy riding his bicycle. I asked him how he liked riding his bike. He shouted, with the sweetest smile: “I feel very good!” His tone was so passionate, eyes so fresh, and smile angelically pure. That little boy’s endearing innocence hit close to home and is exactly how I find myself in this very moment. When I got on a bicycle a year and a half ago, I never knew that bicycles could show me the world – the heart-warming humanities, the jaw-dropping vistas, and the profound gratitude that comes from simply pushing the pedals.
9,012 metres – the highest Everesting cycling attempt to date in Nova Scotia. In this little corner of Nova Scotia, dreams become reality. Before the sun comes up and every other creature awakes, I listen to the sound of the Earth.
Nutrition:
I received an overwhelming amount of love from the Acadia Dining Services for this Everesting attempt:
- 10 sandwiches (3 ham, 3 turkey, 2 egg, and 2 chicken mustard)
- 1 large bag of snacks, including yogurt, fruit bars, and Oreos
- 8 bottles of Aquafina water (500 ml)
- 8 OASIS juice
- 1 dozen bananas
- 1 dozen apples
Gosh, they were heavy to carry up the mountain. You gotta love Nova Scotians, eh.
Hydration:
Gaspereau Valley Spring (roadside faucet) and water from the Acadia Dining Services
Hill Selection:
I chose Greenfield Road as my Everesting spot for the following reasons:
- Close to my home in Wolfville (ease of logistics)
- Smooth pavement (pleasant riding experience)
- Calm traffic (safety consideration)
- No prior Everesting history (to qualify for the “First Known Ascent” badge)
- Ideal gradient (steep grades near the top and bottom, gradual grades in between, offering respite)
- Close to a convenience store at the bottom (say no more)
Training:
1 month prior to Everesting: a good base from the TCR (about 4,200 kms and 48,000 metres of ascent)
Decision to Everest / Hill Selection: September 8
Shakedown ride on Greenfield Road #1: September 10 (949 metres)
Shakedown ride on Greenfield Road #2: September 14 (744 metres)
Shakedown ride on Greenfield Road #3: September 16 (2,077 metres)
Everesting: September 29 (9,012 metres)
I live on top of a hill in Wolfville. Out of necessity, I climb 55 vertical metres to get home, rain or snow.
