When you mention “De Ronde” (pronounced more like “day-rawn–da”) in cycling circles, most will think of the legendary one-day spring classic, De Ronde Van Vlaanderen (Tour of Flanders). The race is known primarily for its winding, hilly route, with 17 climbs of up to 25% grade, many over the rough, cobblestoned roads that cyclists call “pavé”. Combined with the typically cold and wet early spring days in Northern Europe, this race has come to symbolize the ultimate test of the heroes of cycling. The climbs and the conditions can be so difficult that many have to walk up the hills; in 1984, only two of the racers managed to ride the entire course.

Portland has a unique combination of steep, winding roads, some with pavement that reminds you of an old European village, and a reliably chilly and wet spring climate. Put a city of truly dedicated cyclists in this environment, and they will eventually pit themselves and each other against the worst roads and the steepest hills, in a bittersweet test of the limits of man and bike. This is how De Ronde Van Oeste Portlandia was born. What began a few years ago as an informal gathering of cycling buddies who went to find the toughest hills in West Portland, has now grown into an icon of Portland’s cycling culture.

This past Saturday morning, an estimated 600 cyclists gathered outside a Northwest Portland brewpub, and after a call to arms by Brad Ross, one of the ride’s co-founders, the “peloton” rolled out on Highway 30 to let the suffering begin. The route would echo all the legendary aspects of the Flemish race from which it drew inspiration: the long starting climb up the mud surface of “old Saltzman Road” in Forest Park; the winding, sometimes single-lane and cobbled steeps of Sherwood, Fairview, Hillcrest, Westwood, Monte Vista—words mostly unknown to me before this weekend, and now fixed in my consciousness as emblems of my endurance; short single-track sections through Washington Park and Marquam Hill; and the twin behemoths, the two 25-plus percent grades of Brynwood Lane and College Ave.

“Hors catégorie”, the French term for a climb that is beyond classification, doesn’t even begin to describe the challenge you will face trying to pilot a road bike—with standard gearing—up these roads. It felt like trying to ride a stationary bicycle up a flight of stairs, a pure wrestling match of man and machine and gravity. I managed to gut it out, pedaling (if you can call it that) up each vertical foot of every miserable climb of that glorious ride. It was a test on par with any I have yet experienced, and I emerged learning more about myself, and knowing what I can accomplish.

Photos by Dave at dmroth.com