Dirty Kanza 200 2013 Race Report

 Whats this?  A race report?  After 6 months of nothing?  Yes.  This particular  race deserves a post.

As this race report can’t help but be long, let’s get right to the most important stuff  - things I learned, starting with the positives:

•          Kansas is windy (you probably knew that)
•          Kansas is gorgeous (you probably didn't know that)
•        Kansas ain’t flat (you didn't know that)
•          Emporians are terrific (you never cared)
•          I want to go back (no one really cares)

Now the "room for improvement" segment:

•          Don’t try riding through  the local mudholes
•          Don’t bomb through river crossings unless your rolling big volume and Stans
•          Make certain to eat plenty along the way
•          Wear sunblock

There are many different reasons folks are drawn to the DK200 for the first time.  Maybe it’s the challenge.  Maybe it was someone’s race report.  Maybe it was a crazy bet placed while drinking…

In my case, I knew a guy.  Scott, whom I know from work lives right in Emporia, likes to bike and suggested I check out the DK200 a few years back.  Early this year I figured “why not?”   I can tell you why not.  It’s bloody damn extravagant for an unpaid cyclist to pack a bike up and go race nearly halfway across the country!

But according to multiple written and verbal accounts this event had something special going on and I wanted to experience whatever it was.  Extravagance be damned!  And hey!  - I know a local!

I registered early – and started making arrangements.    First off -what to ride?  I had hoped to have a custom coupled CarverTi frame ordered in March ready for the race, but there was more to this concept than the event.  My job is taking me out and around the country more than ever.  A coupled mountain bike frame makes sense:  Fee free flying, staying  in shape & adaptable to different conditions.   Unfortunately, Carver is very busy!  So I checked in with friends online and sourced a bike crate to ship my existing Salsa Chili Con Crosso CX bike. 

   

Before packing up the Con Crosso – she needed a few modifications to address 200 miles over the variable conditions Kansas was destined to dole out:

New parts required:

•          A double chainring (originally came with a single chainring = just not enough gearing)
•          A SRAM Rival front derailleur
•          A Jagwire derailleur cable

Suitable on-hand inventory:

•          Mini Time-trial bars (I hear it’s windy)
•          Time trial double bottle holder  (you need to bring plenty of water)
•          A large frame bag (plenty of storage for food, tubes, a compass, tools, lights & patches)
•          WTB Terrainasaurus tires – general purpose 37c on/off road tires

Unnecessary mod – but certainly extra sweet:

•          Carver Carbon Wheelset (1/2 pound less than stock)

After flying into Kansas City, I drove out to Emporia and checked in with Scott in town.  We headed to the rider briefing at the Granada Theatre around 4pm.  Along the way I noticed virtually every storefront in this quiet & quirky blue collar town had something representing the event.   Also along the way, pianos.  Yes pianos along the street in  multiple colors and designs – free for any degree of talent to play.  That’s pretty cool.

We settled in at the theatre amidst the buzz of people chattering about what they were about to take on the next day – then the lights went down, and the video screen lit up. 

Immediately our senses were assaulted with hard rock and a stream of photos and video taken with the right light at all the right angles.  As hard as I tried to remain cool and detached, I was getting seriously caught in the moment.  

Very  Seriously.   Whoever put this video together had an eye for detail & drama.

That introduction sealed it.  Yep, this is going to be worth it.

After the briefing, I gathered my number plate, bag of goodies and map – then it was off to Scott’s office just down the street to make sure my bike was 100% ready for the 6 am start.

After a mostly good night’s sleep (It’s hard not to wake up early for this kind of thing) we headed into town.  Conditions: Perfect.  Soon I settled in amongst the “12 hour” group.  That alone was pretty neat.  Basically you slotted yourself based on how you felt you’d fit in.

 

At the line I chatted with a couple of Boston guys in red shirts.  You know, just a couple of random peeps from my part of the world.

At 6:00 sharp.  It started.

We headed out of town with a police escort.  It was pretty smooth, but having experienced a couple of recent races that involved escorts – here is a word of advice:  We’re quicker than you might think.  Please accelerate to about 25-30 briskly then gently ease up as needed. You likely won’t have to drop below 25.  We’re all a bit jumpy the first 10 minutes into these things.

Before long we hit gravel.  Medium size stone lined the road.  Not enough to cause problems if you stayed on track, but enough to be a problem with a wagon train of riders cruising at speed  close to each other.  About 20 minutes in, the expected occurred.  A crash maybe 5 or 6 riders ahead - it appeared the downed riders were moderately scraped up - we all continued around an on.

I began passing riders to get within the pack at the front.  We were moving, but not too hard.  I stuck with the group for at least another 20 minutes then started feeling really, really good – bursting here and there with energy.  Then maybe about another 20 minutes into it I started riding ahead the pack.

 

Holy expletive.  What am I doing up here?!  I felt fine and wasn’t pushing so much (at least it seemed that way)

The course conditions had changed from dry mid-size gravel to semi-soft loamy tracks through a field.  By now the field was at least a couple hundred feet behind.  Up ahead:  A mudhole – lesson one was about to commence.

Approaching the mudhole it was clear that the vehicular tracked portion would be wet, difficult and greasy to negotiate.  Using my not so developed powers of Kansas mud density prediction, I headed towards the untouched mud on the right and went for it.   That lasted about 75% of the way – to be not so promptly brought to a halt at which point I fell over and found a nice rock that tore deeply  into my knee.  I frantically dragged the bike the rest of the way out of the mudhole.  At that point is was evident, the bike simply wouldn’t go.  There were massive quantities of mud jammed in there.  I slammed the bike madly  up and down on the ground - No go.  Then tried pushing the bike backwards -No go.  By now the field was scampering around me.  The only way to address the mud was to reach in and yank it out in similar fashion to assisting a compacted bovine.  Damn that was stupid!!  Post-race I found out the locals were discussing which idiot would try riding that section first.  For the record, Hi – I’m Alby, I usually ride mountain bikes.   Oh who am I kidding – I take stupid risks all the time.

After clearing just enough mud to get things barely spinning I got back on and proceeded to work my way back up towards the lead group.  With the tailwind picking up, we were cooking along then approached some open range territory with what?  Hills.  Yep.  Hills in Kansas.  It was here I found the mud had jammed my front derailleur.

I was sitting maybe 6^th approaching a stiff little climb.  With no access to the small chainring there was only one thing to do:  Maintain speed.  I passed everyone on the hill – and once again found myself uncomfortably at the front.  Although I know better – high hopes couldn’t help but start burbling to the surface. “Am I capable of a podium here?! – it sure feels like it!”

We blasted south helped by the northwest blast, ticking off the miles in record time.  Along the way I eased up a little.  A passing rider exclaimed  “What?  You tired now?!  After putting down the hammer like that?!”   Really?  I’m putting down the hammer?  Not sure how to address that – seems good, might not be.

I continued to push at or near the front – then we turned towards some more hilly grassy terrain.  Heading downhill I could see a stream crossing lined with rocks.  Maybe one or two riders were ahead – they blasted  through a little towards the right.  I headed towards  a seemingly good line on the left – and slammed a rock HARD. So hard both of my seatpost mounted water bottles ejected.  I came to a stop to retrieve the bottles- then heard the familiar hiss..  Crap. Lesson two.

On the other side of the stream, a nice uphill.  There was enough air in the tire to continue riding – so I headed to the top of the hill, pulled over & proceeded to pull the wheel & change the tube.  Meanwhile the line of riders passed, far too many to count.

After the flat was repaired I hopped back on, hopeful that I’d be able to regroup with the lead but it seems I didn’t retain any wisdom from lesson two.   About 2 miles later  lesson three – the same thing: Pinch flat. I pulled over and swapped out my second and last tube.  I was starting to thoroughly dislike this game.  From here on out I’d have to stop blasting through anything that looked slightly risky to my tires.

Back on the bike I was now passing rider after rider.  Before long – checkpoint one,  Madison.  Zipping along the brick lined street full of exuberant spectators I connected with Scott & frantically re-filled my water bottles.  That would be the quickest stop of the day.

I continued on the course powering up a fairly steep paved hill full of fire – then the course started turning towards the West.  With the Northwest wind I knew we were looking at some head and crosswinds, the only comfort - knowing everyone else had to contend with the same.  On top of the wind, more elevation was coming into play.  Stretches of road started feeling endless.  You’d  complete a hill – only to see another coming in the distance. 

Occasionally, a small stand of trees would heighten your appreciation for what it’s like *not* to be riding against the wind.  Also occasionally:  Gusts that nearly stopped you cold.  This was getting brutal. 

Photo: Eric Benjamin adventuremonkey.com

Alongside the increased physical demands, an increased level of beauty and isolation while passing Texaco Hill.  For me it was also something of a novelty to see wide open oil fields and related equipment.

Heading up Texaco Hill

Rolling into checkpoint two the combination of exertion, lack of food & worst of all - a seriously tight back was taking its toll.  Being hunched over in the same position hour after hour is excruciating (opposed to mountain biking).   Along the way it was clear this was not an isolated issue.  Riders everywhere were arching their backs, standing and contorting this way and that all to find a just few moments of comfort.

Scott thankfully had brought a couple of bananas that I nearly forced down whole.   While trying to collect myself (apprently looking  desperate and confused),  Scott graciously started chipping away the cement like mud that had accumulated earlier.   I headed out in a semi-delirious state, paying no attention to his instructions on which way to go – thankfully some folks down the road turned me around before I made it to Nevada.  The good news – the wind was at my back -at least for now.

I hung with a couple of riders eastbound flying along Teeter road.  At first I felt guilty wheel-sucking, but then it was apparent, hanging out in the breeze was no more difficult with the near tail-wind.  Before turning north, a significant and memorable downhill called “Teeter drop”.  I hit almost 45 which doesn't seem like much until we consider this was on rough gravel  rolling 37c tires without pedaling!  Speaking of pedaling, that was out of the question.  The speed and terrain required every bit of concentration to stay aligned, upright & disaster-free.

The dreaded turn to the north was exactly as anticipated.  We were again passing through gorgeous countryside whilst being pummeled by headwinds and quite a bit of elevation change.   I wasn’t getting past fellow riders with the same verve as prior, just the opposite.  In an effort to conserve energy, I caught up to and clung onto a couple of Chamois Butt’r guys who shielded me from the dread wind as we headed straight into it.  The right thing to do is pull your share in these situations but my share in this case was closer to 25%.  I just didn’t have the desire to push very hard.

 After what seemed an eternity I was able to pull away, the energy conservation tactics were working.  Eventually I connected with two strong riders (one who was leading in the SS class).  Pulls were now more equally spread if not more favorable for my accomplices.   The terrain was leveling some as we cruised westbound down along a valley.  Then up ahead:  Two riders with number plates heading our way.  What??!

One of the riders was immediately recognizable – Rebecca Rusch.  We stopped to confirm the situation.  Confirmed.  We missed a turn.  Damn, damn, damn.  I suppose the good news is we found out – but it was a psychological blow.  I was expecting to swing into checkpoint three in less than 10 miles.  We had just added 10 more (!)

Heading back we collected more and more confused riders - some unwittingly stopping in the middle of the road as an ever-growing pack of angry riders approached.  Upon reaching the mal-negotiated turn Rebecca dropped us pronto.  I was content hanging back to save more energy as we moved into the wind.  At the point that we turned east onto tarmac, energy levels were back up.  Flying down Lake Rd with a couple of riders in tow – we caught up and blew past Rebecca just before checkpoint three.  I blame the TT bars for such antics.

Getting through town to this checkpoint was a bit clumsy.  There were no apparent markers anywhere.  We ambled this way and that – then found our way.  I zoomed over to the check-in spot, then thinking Scott might not be there (it was in question as he was tending a couple of local friends also) headed over to the convenience  store.  I really need to communicate and plan more with these things.  It turned out Scott’s daughter was right there at the checkpoint.  A proper and timely feeding may have prevented what was about to come.

I headed out of town in the right direction this time, only to miss a left turn that was clearly marked.  The good news:  I sensed I was off course early on.   This time I took out my map and confirmed the mistake – getting back on course with only 2 extra miles.  I connected with the same group that had pulled us northwest only 20 or so minutes prior and once again used their shelter to build some reserves.

After riding with the group for about 30 minutes I made my move.  Up the hills I pulled away strong – catching up with a single speed rider who latched on.  His comment “I hope you don’t mind me tagging along… I think the single speed leader is just ahead”.  After wheel sucking myself quite a bit, it was the least I could do.  I pulled at medium high – then my body starting shutting down.  As in the worst shut-down I have ever experienced.

The slowdown was nearly instantaneous.  My Single speed friend (who ended up winning)  pulled away wondering what the heck just happened to his assist – and the same group I had dropped 15 minutes earlier caught back up.  They commented on my lack of zest and encouraged me to latch on.  I just couldn’t hang properly.  Blurting out “I’m bonking bad” while trying hard to stay with the group, one of the guys offered me a gel.  I replied “I had hoped to salvage the one I have for mile 185 or so” – his response: “here!  Have two!!”  Usually I’ll decline such assistance – but it was too much.  I let the group go then pulled over, first to pee (good, I’m plenty hydrated) secondly because there just wasn’t any gas in the tank. 

I have experience bonking in the past, but never anything so paralyzing.  I ripped open and sucked down the gels then pulled my energy bars out of the bag and started chomping away.  Within about 8 minutes (aren’t GPS tracks great?) I could feel the energy meter heading towards acceptable.  I got back on – and kept-a-pedalin’ – catching and passing a few riders here and there –never to catch the main group again.

Knowing the course would eventually start heading southeast was inspiring but at the same time it felt like that would never happen.   Finally at mile 185 (where I had intended to use my last gel) the course turned eastbound.  I knew the rest of the ride was going to be much easier from here on into Emporia.

Cruising effortlessly  I made my way through gently rolling hills as the gravel got smoother.  I passed maybe three more riders - then came along a few motorists who slowed, waved, honked and offered encouragement.  Amazing.  I’m 10 miles from town and there are folks out here egging me on.

Making my way through the last few miles the course crossed a few paved sections then took a left up into Emporia University.  One of the volunteers offered “just up that hill and you’ll be there!”  I kept looking for a hill – but couldn’t figure out where that was.  Having just completed nearly 10,000 feet of climbing, nothing I approached seemed hill-like.  That’s what we call relativity. 

With a slight downhill and tailwind – I was positively hauling approaching the finish.  Whizzing past so many spectators making a racket while reaching out for high-speed high-fives is an experience I’ll never forget.

Final result 36^th – out of roughly 300 finishers and roughly 600 finishers.   Given the flat tires, extra miles & bonk I know I can knock an easy hour of my finishing time.  Yes, I said “can”

Photo: Eric Benjamin - adventuremonkey.com

For finishing among the first 250 – riders received this unique “Race the Sun” signed print.  The proof having been hand carved.

Further details /  conclusions:

•          The organizers tell you to use a map.  On the one hand – it makes sense to have, on the other – the course was so well marked for the most part you felt overly confident using these alone.  I know of at least two riders who used the course map on the backside of the number plate to program their GPS devices to provide turn by turn instructions.  Not sure how they feel about themselves if they read and understand the rules forbidding this.
•          Higher volume tires and Stans may have been helpful.  Both of my flats were pinch flats not punctures –  from going too fast through bony sections.  Also higher volume might ease some of the back pain. That and possibly a short travel suspension seatpost like the one I use on my super stiff (and fast)Kona Big Unit.
•          The Carver Carbon rims held up perfectly given the rough riding I always manage to deliver.
•          The event has some kind of drop bag service available (via charitable donation) – may be very well worthwhile if you’re like me and would rather not trouble anyone with the job of going point to point on your behalf
•          Dan Hughes won again (!) he is made for this thing
•          Rebecca killed it on the last leg.  I mean seriously killed it.  Consider 2^nd place gal (Monika Sattler)  was right there with me at checkpoint three – Rebecca put 44 minutes between them – amazing.
•     Those guys at the start in red shirts?  Yeah - that was David Wilcox and Jonathan Blayley - they worked together to come in 3rd place. 
•         I consider this one a training ride J

A little fear, politics and authority with some biking mixed in..

Last night, prompted by a Facebook post - I decided to go for a post work night-ride with some fast folks.

Several guys and a girl showed up at 6:30 - I think seven of us in total.  As we were readying the bikes / equipment an officer showed up - declaring that the trails were for day use.  He didn't claim that we must leave the premises, but kept stating "for day use".  

The group carefully selected not to engage in  much conversation - just nodding our heads and generally going about our business.  It was evident that collectively no one knew what to make of the situation (including the officer).  He went on to say that he had a lively discussion on the matter with a local.   The group remained steadfast yet uneasy - which likely prompted the officer to raise the stakes:

"There's hunting in this area..."  "You don't want to get mixed up with poachers"..

We considered parking at a nearby house to prevent any ticketing just in case there *was* a law against such behavior, but in the end it appeared there wasn't anything legal keeping us from carrying on.   So we headed out and had a ball (until my toes froze about an hour and 15 minutes in).

Sitting in the safe confines of my house this morning - I started wondering how often mountain bikers end up on the wrong side of a hunters sights.  In my imagination - some hunters might take pleasure in tracking unknowing "prey" - but when it comes down to it, the likelihood is slim that they'll shoot another human. Especially if they know it is a human.

So - a quick search online using the words "mountain biker shot hunter" in various sequences was conducted. 

Results:  Almost entirely about a poor fellow in NZ who was hunting with a close friend.  The link to mountain biking:  He was a prominent local mountain biker.

Growing up in Vermont during the late 70's / early 80's - I'd head for the hills well into peak hunting season with some concern tempered by faith.  To make matters worse:   No helmet, no safety orange  and all by myself.  By some modern-day accounts I should be dead.   This isn't to say there isn't or wasn't any risk, or that my parents were bonkers.  This history is provided as a worst case scenario.  There were lots and lots of hunters where I grew up.  They may have had more open spaces than this part of the world - but the density was at least as high.  The state practically shut down on opening day.


So the question:  How truly risky is biking in high population hunting areas during hunting season?  

Does anyone know of an instance where a mountain biker was shot at?   I know of hunter / hunter shootings - but have never heard of any mountain bikers being involved.  Is it possible the motion & sounds of mountain biking don't trigger the same trigger reflex?

When people do get shot - what are the most common circumstances?  In my mind maybe its dusk combined with the sound of a single snapping twig and slow motion.  Who really knows?

About 10 years ago I was riding in Douglas State forest alone - donning a helmet and orange vest. The ground was icy / frozen over, and the bike made a huge racket crunching through frozen puddles.  I came across a hunter - who stated that I sounded just like a deer running.  To this day I wonder if it was another case of fear-mongering or if I was truly stacking the odds against myself a bit further in those conditions...

For certain, we can significantly reduce the risk wearing orange and riding in groups.  The suggestion from the officer that we were at risk had no basis in reality.  I think we all know that was motivated by something else.

After this post, who knows..   I might be the guy who gets it.  All to the satisfaction of a society driven by linear thinking - and a common desire for some tasty drama.

Ya see,  I have this irrational fear of Karma.

Just plain lazy.

That's been the trend this season.  Let's see..  at least 3 races with partial write ups. 

Lazy about training..

Lazy about proper food consumption (quality & quantity)... 

Lazy about tuning up my bikes properly...

Just stupid lazy.



Let's maintain this lazy wave:

Here are the partials - it's the thought that counts:

Short story - was doing goodish (just behind Jacob Harris) hit a rock-too-damn-hard and DNF'd with a whacked / cracked rim.  Almost made it under an hour running the last freaking mile:

 

 

ONE FREAKING MINUTE OVER THE HOUR MARK !!

 

 

Next:



 

 

 

New (to the course) spot at the top

 

 

 

World's coolest bike shop

 

 

Short story - Love the race, it hates me.  Broken-hip-Rick blew my friggin doors off (pre-broken-hip), so did team boss  Big Al.  Course was way harder than ever - old man back was effed, bailed on the last lap.  Yick.


Next:

 

 

Stunning sunset

 

 

One of the last riders wrapping it up

 

 

Awards ceremony

Short story - Love the race, the vibe, the location & the scenery.  Got 2nd in Solo - thanks in no small part to the absence of Greg Jancaitis.   Problem is, love hurts.  Three days later - my right hand was oddly numb.  Still is to this day.  Ayut - got me some carpal tunnel.. 



Here is the wrap up with the HH100.

 Thanks Liz for umm.. the inspiration. We're now up to the minute.

So I *might* do the Landmine 50 and the VT50 to wrap up the mountain bike season.  It all depends on how numb my hand feels and what the doctah says...  He'll probably come down on me for being lazy about seeing a doctor..

First annual Sun up to Sun down - racy report

Years ago I taught snowboarding at Stratton Mountain in Vermont.  Towards the end of one season, I was called into the ski-school directors office to discuss the forthcoming layoff.  One phrase came out of his puffy lipped tiny mouth (attached to an enormous head) that has stuck for all these years - In an Austrian accent:

"It was a business decision"....

That was the approach going into this race. 

You see, relative to the sport - I'm still toodamnheavy.  A 12 hour event should help maybe a little - so long as I don't overcompensate after the event (sadly, the following Monday at work I ate a whole bag of Cape Cod Feta Rosemary chips - best chips ever).

Financially, the entry fee represented the greatest dollar-per-mile investment of the entire year.  Depending of course, on how far ya go..   Additionally,  it was over 40 miles closer to home than the other event taking place in Vermont that drew in all the big guns.  Cha-ching!! That's another $ 13 in gas, not to mention 2 hours less driving time.

The race itself was staged at Camp Mattatuck - a 500 acre boy scout camp established in 1939.  I really should have taken more pictures of the campground as it is easily one of the nicest sites I have been to. Plenty of parking, a nice lake, wide open fields, old buildings, new buildings and.... drum roll:  Clean bathrooms & showers!

The very low key check in took place at the very suitable "Activity Pavilion".  A bag of goodies was provided and I paid an additional $15 for camping.  But wait.  It wasn't camping like I had in mind with a tent and stuff.  It was camping in a Cabin.  Nice - that's one less thing to deal with after pedaling for what some people consider to be an insane amount of time.

After setting up my little corner in the cabin I headed out for a pre-ride.  The promoter mentioned that it was not necessary to run where the signs said "run" (apparently he does a few tri-events) - just follow the signs and the little white circles with red arrows.  Off I went to check things out.

As described, the course has a lot of double track.  I zipped along looking out for the little white circles with arrows - before long I popped out of the woods into a field.  A field that had been recently cut.  This was going to be tough.  Fields are tough enough on steamy days with all the exposure.  Hoo boy. 

Then I got confused.  Was it me - or was the course doubling back on itself??  Sure enough, the freshly mowed swath took you right back where you came from.  Did I miss something here? 

Apparently not. 

Observe.  The tree on the left has a white circle with red arrow indicating that forward is correct.   The other sign guides you when returning from the field loop.

It was so foreign that I figured I must have made a mistake.  I continued on along the trail.  Happily, more white circles with red arrows were present to literally keep me in the loop.

From here the double track headed downhill into a very sharp right-hander to fresh loamy singletrack that passed through a campsite at the far end of the property.  Continuing on, another sharp turn into an uphill - then on into some mossy not-so-used double track that led into a singletrack section with downhill that passed through a stream.  On the other side a little up and down - then a absolute kick of a kicker.  I was able to climb it the first time, but knew it'd be very difficult to manage well into a long race.

Doesn't look so bad from here...  About 22% grade with some slippy rocks to cause disturbance.

After this climb, a downhill into a nice singletrack section with switchbacks, a stream crossing and some off camber terrain.  Along the way.  Dick John's shelter.  If you were a scout, how could you possibly not augment the last name with "son"??

Beyond the shelter a little more singletrack heading up - then onto a well used double track section that passes through the the camp.  It winds its way downhill (fast) then rewards you with a tough,  steep uphill before cruising around past the lake. 

A short paved section follows - then goes behind the mess hall into some fast mossy double track with a slight downhill grade ending with a grinder of a punishing uphill, followed by a field section (nice short grass here) then around onto a gravel road laced with gold colored flakes (my tires & shoes are still glittery) then onto the main entrance road back to the pavilion.

Upon getting back to the pavilion I wondered if I missed anything out there.  The course description suggested hour long laps, but the trip took just over 22 minutes. I wasn't going too fast, but certainly wasn't lollygagging either.

Just to be sure, I went out and did it again.  Same result:  around 22 minutes. That's odd.

Returning from the second go-round I connected with local pro Liz A.  We noted there were many beginner riders - which in hindsight wasn't surprising.  As mentioned,  the majority of  our regional pro-folk were up in Vermont and this being a first event didn't have any history to drive any repeat customers.

I hung out for the remainder of the evening down at the pavilion with a few folks and Liz.  We ended up talking with a couple of good guys who turned out to be major contributors to the course layout & event.  Before long it was bedtime. 

I slept pretty well in the 49'r cabin (3" memory foam is magic) - waking up around 5:30.  A big breakfast of pancakes down at the mess hall, then back up to the cabin & pavilion to set up the pit stop. Supplies included lots of water, Gatorade, pickles, 5 peanut-butter & jelly pocket sandwiches and a package of Choc-blocs. 

Back at the cabin I suited up and committed to some Soigneur chamois creme.  (I haven't ever used chamois creme for long events - the outcome being some minor discomfort) Then it was off the pavilion for some race preliminaries. 

Thankfully during discussion,  we collectively decided against a LeMans type running start - so we all lined up with the solo riders leading. 

Liz and I were at the front.  We took off pretty casually around 7:01.  Within 5 minutes or so a couple of guys whizzed past.  Go ahead guys...  we have another 11 hours 55 minutes to go. 

There's no point in a blow-by-blow description of a race like this.  For one thing, it's too damn long to record accurately.  So a few highlights:

• I missed a turn pre-riding after all.  Early in each lap you take a left off the main course then whiz down a fun section to carefully rejoin the main course.  One of these per lap.  I noticed lots of riders missed this.


• For the first couple of hours lap times were locked in under 25 minutes .  Around hour 3 I passed a rider (Jonathan Tarbox) who offered "hey, I think you can slow down, I'm in second place and you just lapped me".   I eased up a little - which was a good idea anyways as the heat of the day was starting to pick up. 


• Lap 12 I lost a spoke in my rear wheel.  Actually it wasn't the spoke - it was the nipple.  If you have ever bought  built up wheels from Bikeman, they recommend brass nipples as aluminum ones can corrode.  Guess what - they're right.   Luckily I had another wheel set in the car.  Some back and forth between the cabin and car (to get keys) and I was back in business.  Lubed the chain as well.   


• The hot afternoon sun was really starting to take a toll.  I was alternating between Gatorade and straight water on each lap.  Water laps including soaking my head, chest and back.  Ahhh...

• Here and there - some sandwich and pickles..  On occasion I'd see Jonathan - thinking that he'd caught back up to my one lap lead.  This kept the pressure on.  The last climb of the course was demanding spinny super low gearing. 


• Towards the end - much salt in the eyes.  Getting a bit run down but still chugging along.


• Final lap, a push midway.  Tear up the final climb then record the fastest speed of the day charging to the finish.    

In the end - 26 laps, totalling roughly 119 miles with anywhere between 7 and 8,000 feet of climbing (Strava VS. Garmin).  Jonathan came in 2nd with 23 laps - (his first 12 hour event).  Liz kept Jonathan honest throughout,  also knocking off 23 laps for 3rd.   

The win was a matter of being in the right place at the right time with the right gear.  The Spearfish is perfect for these events (least back pain ever for me). The new Panaracer Driver tires - also perfect (fast rolling with great grip when you need it at the edges) .  I can also say my "delicates" have never felt better after such an event - the Soigneur stuff worked well.

I brought home a really slick OGIO 9.0 endurance bag.  It's almost too slick with a compartment for absolutely everything you'd ever need for an event.   

Check out the slick video of the slick bag:

This race is on the horizon for next season.  Initially I had thought the course "too tame" but after so many hours it was just right,  also "too wild" might put off beginner riders.  Overall,  the promoters did a great job for a debut event and were very receptive to suggestions.  It sounds like at least one thing we may be able to count on is a misting hose. Nice!

The Pitiful and the Pinnacle

The Pinnacle is one of the finer mountain bike races in New England. So fine I've done it every year since starting in 09'.  

This year was just like last year.  Perfect weather.. and again, Fathers Day.  It was also like last year in that the 3 hour drive to Newport left plenty of time to reflect on daddyhood.  That kind of thinking goes in two directions: 

Utter joy & self loathing.

Ava and I have been riding a local trail pretty often in the evenings.  It's a short flattish trail not easily seen from the road right in our neighborhood.  At the end of the trail a wide open grassy field that leads to a big pond. 

The trail has a few log crossings of different sizes.  She hasn't mastered the 6-18" logs - but has figured out how to stand up on the pedals and ride out a 4" one.  She has also gained confidence in handling a couple of downhill / uphill sections.  Makes papa proud.

It's obvious that she is enjoying the discovery aspect of riding off the beaten path as well,  so I have been thinking of taking her to another trail network a mile from the house.  Fathers day was perfect for such an adventure.  But it's the Pinnacle!!

So off to NH, taking my time getting ridiculously great gas mileage partly just because, and partly as it'd be tragic to wreck driving to a race you just "had to go to" on Fathers day.

See where this is going??

My head just wasn't in it.   

On arrival - the usual.  Check in, get plate, check tire pressure, make sure fluid are in me, on the course and on the bike. 

OK then, time to line up.  There's the start.  Damn these bitches are fast.

And that's how it went. 

Lap one I hung on to the main group for the first mile and a half and they slowly pulled away.  A couple riders behind also slowly drifted behind.  OK then, that's good I suppose.  At the top and into the downhill my groove just wasn't there.  Usually this is where I can focus, let loose and rip.

Not today - mustn't "die doing what he loved" today.

The roots were punishing, my hands were going numb and I had zero groove.  Before long - down the plummet into a wide fast arc through the lap point.  Passing spectators along the way I threw my arms up victory style - eliciting a response from a guy I know from back in high school.  He yelled "C'mon Alby!!  - Take it seriously man!!"

That pretty much sealed it.  Not even a little serious today.

The downhill on lap 2 saw attempts at focusing through the forest of doom.  That'd be the pine section with tight turns and roots to trip you up.  You know how when your truly focused you can pick clean efficient lines??  I  almost got there on lap 2 - but it was forced focus.  Like silicon enhanced focus.

Lap 3 - the uphill was starting to kill.  But the downhill was much improved.  I started to remember that I like riding fast. I was also figuring out where to carry speed from experience.

Lap 4 - the uphill was a freaking death march.  I did start to catch up with Noah Tautfest at the bottom - but he put in a great effort and widened the gap to beyond sight.  In the past, I'd ride at a nice even level from the start and possibly pick up the pace along the way.  No chance of this in Elite.  These guys go hard from start to finish.

Coming down the last downhill I was riding fairly clean - but not as focused as lap 3.  After the crazy great mega berm section I caught Noah.  He was riding rather slow.  Not knowing who he was at the moment, I was thinking he might not be so technical so I asked for the pass and he obliged.

Then, oddly enough - he clung to my wheel as I navigated the bottom half of the downhill.  WTF??! 
I yelled back - "sorry - I thought you were a roadie or something" and he responded "I hit a tree and was picking myself back up when you came along"

Oh. Sorry about that.

As we neared the flat section just before the plummet Noah lit it up and passed.  Alright, fair enough. Surely he'll slow a bit before the plummet??

Nope.  He absolutely FLEW off it - likely traveling in excess of 20mph  before you get to the good part.

I'm thinking he isn't a father yet.

North South Trail RI Aka: "Horrible Idea Ride"

My first encounter with the North-South trail occurred a few years ago riding down the Midstate trail through Douglas State Forest.  In a cozy part of the forest one can find the intersection with a sign proclaiming "78 miles to Atlantic Ocean". 

A couple of times I started heading down the trail only to find it turned into a swampy quagmire with mossy rocks - completely unrideable in sections.  But it piqued my interest so it was off to the 'net to find out more.

Online there are several sites that describe the network - in simple terms it consists of paved sections, dirt roads, jeep trails, ATV trails and single track. 

Also there is this great little book that describes the trail in detail:

The trail itself started out the vision of George Ernst from Cranston, RI.  He proposed the concept to the RI Dept of Environmental Management which deemed it plausible in '78.  In the early 90's things came together.  It passes through 8 state and municipal management areas - as well as a few private properties.  A pretty remarkable accomplishment for such a small populous state.

I knew what the northernmost section was like between Douglas and George Washington Management - and gave it a shot here and there with my CX bike.   There was too much hike-a-bike going on - which entirely defeated the value of a lightweight bike.   At least I was abiding by the hiking only policy - which is far less an issue these days compared to the roaring Mt bike 90's.

Swamp / pond within George Washington Management area

After that tryst I decided to ride some of the trail south of Rte 44 on a mountain bike.  Starting on Durfee Hill Rd I headed south along some ATV torn fire roads.  Meaty tires were an absolute necessity here. Eventually the trail got smoother then fed into some paved sections that headed up Snake Hill Rd (steep) then across Rte 94 down a very rocky hill past a farm then into some jeep trail terrain. 

I wonder what's in there??

After getting back I posted the ride on Strava - to find Dan had ridden a bit of the southern portion the same day.  We crossed paths maybe an hour apart.  During some online communication  I tossed out  the idea of doing the entire thing - down to the ocean and back.  Dan's comment - "that sounds like a horrible idea - the kind of horrible I'm down with" - "It has to be done this summer".   The best opportunity came along on Memorial Day weekend less than 2 weeks after the initial proposal .  Why wait??

Based on average speeds ridden on sections prior it looked like 13 hours would get the job done.  Dan proposed we meet @ 5:00 am to get a good head start before things got steamy.  He had also proposed we ride around the Buck Hill section down Wallum Lake Rd.  This alone would knock an hour off the time due to all the required hike-a-bike.  Not to mention, we'd remain decent law-abiding folk in terms of the hiking only policy. 

I was up at 3:30 - made some coffee & oatmeal then out the door @ 4:30 - arriving in 25 minutes or so.  Temps were around 65º and very, very moist. 

Today's choice - the Spearfish.  It's not a point and shoot XC short course weapon - it's designed for  stupidly long rides just like this.  Dan - well... If you know Dan - you know he likes things simple masochistic.  He was outfitted with his usual ride - a rigid single speed - including minimal gear & food.  What a contrast.  I had 5 PB & J's, three water bottles, several different kinds of gels, 2 packs of chock blocks, two tubes, patches, tools, a camera, a fancy water filter, two lights, my wallet, phone and a pump.  I really dislike back packs but today demanded one if I was going to bring all this crap.

One mans idea of being ready for over 150 miles of mixed riding.

After some final checks we were off.  We headed out the drive down Wallum Rd - making serious time - ticking off a few mile long sections in around 3 minutes apiece.

Before long - we zipped past the George Washington Management - area then across Rte 44 up Durfee  Hill to the same dirt road I had ridden a couple of weeks prior.  Down the dirt road - then into a paved section - on up Snake Hill Rd.  After crossing Rte 94 -  going downhill past the farm I started having annoying problems with my bottle set up.

I purchased one of those Tri-style bottle holders that mounts to the seat post.  Early tests with my hard tail bike demonstrated how good it was at ejecting bottles over rough terrain.  I figured with rear suspension it wouldn't be an issue.  Nope - it was only slightly less effective at popping bottles out.  Of course I found this out the first time at least a mile past where it came out.  Damn.  I turned around and rode back up quite aways - then finally gave up.  I'd have to hope it was there hours later in the day.

Panaracer Pro Driver Tires - perfect blend of grip and speed here. Profile Design bottle thingy - not so perfect for mountain biking - maybe some bungees or a really small bra would keeps things in place.

We continued along - passing through the Moosup River section, a straight flat part that's a bit soggy - after that the trail pops out onto a very busy Rte 6.  The good news is, there is a Shell station there to replenish with food & hydration.  After this stop we continued down some back roads that took us past the Foster Country Club. Nice terrain around here - hilly terrain.  The kind of terrain you know you'll have to manage on the way back. 

Further south some more dirt roads - then a sweet section of trail riding near Carbuncle Pond Management after a short trip along Rte 14 to connect.  Coming down the rocky trail Dan pulled aside to let me through (remember - I'm on a FS bike - he's on a rigid) and started to warn me about some kind of something up ahead.  Of course I wasn't paying full attention - but sure enough figured out what he was talking about.  A rock water bar caught me up in the worst way and  I came down hard on my hip & knee.  Damn!  Less than 50 or so miles in and a fairly hard hit.  I shook it off and let Dan lead.  Continuing on we rode along more back roads and then more trail riding.  The Terrain kept getting more interesting as we started towards Arcadia.  Along the way an absolute monster of a downhill dirt road with scary switchbacks.  Take it from a Vermont boy - it was the real deal.

At the Rte 165 crossing - Dan had stashed a gallon of water a day or two in advance.  We filled our bottles and Dan put it out there:  "wanna keep going or head back up?"   Continuing seemed dandy - so within a few minutes we were off.  

Dan knows  the Arcadia and surrounding areas pretty well - so he led us through some fun terrain with giant berms - then some not so fun terrain in the form of a rocky swamp.  It might be rideable on a good day with plenty of energy - but I could barely walk properly let alone ride.  Somewhere along the way I managed to ram my left calf into the upper joint of my rear suspension.  It didn't seem like much happened initially - but upon looking down a few minutes later I was horrified.  A giant bulge along a vein had formed under the skin.  It was itchy as hell too.  Two things came to mind: "this might require a call for medical services" &  "I sure hope this doesn't look this way for the rest of my life".  Thankfully after 45 minutes it started to go back down.  A giant multi-color bruise would form in the following weeks.

After Arcadia some more back roads then Carolina Management.  A nice pine-forest section that we somehow lost track of the trail on.  We would ride in opposite directions looking for the blue-blazes - only to get off track at the next junction.  We managed to reconnect properly while heading down another rural road.

I don't recall exactly where it was but the trail takes one past a nice sod farm.  Something about wide open lush green spaces like this makes me happy.

Moving further south along more back roads & jeep trails we finally came across Burlingame Management.  Riding along the same trail the King of the Burlingame Time Trial takes place on we couldn't help but think "not far now!!" - but the course wound around even more of the technical terrain than we had realized.  At one point shredding Dans sidewall:

After the repair we got moving again within the Burlingame trails.  The trail goes along the infamous "Bridges" section - a section with...umm..   lots of bridges.  The slippery wooden kind.  I was leading and heard a pretty awful "whump" aways behind.  As these things  happen I waited... then waited some more.  Finally I turned around and headed back a little to see Dan picking himself up.  He wiped out pretty hard and landed on his face among other things.  Ouch. He gathered himself and we forged on.  This was starting to getting rough.

The trails in Burlingame seemed to go on *FOREVER* but you could just taste the ocean air. Finally we popped out at the southern end near Rte 1.  Across the highway and then along a short paved road down to the beach.  

Ok then.   There's the beach. We're halfway along.

The beach scene was an interesting contrast.   There was Dan and I, covered in sweat, mud, blood and whatever else stuck along the way - surrounded by nice clean & dry people just starting their Memorial Day weekend. 

We turned around and headed back up towards Rte 1 - then took a left to make a stop at a Shell station just down the street.  More water bottles were filled.  Then it was time git goin' back to where we come from.

Cruising back north past the sod fields. Major bonus here:  Tailwind.

The trip back north was similar to the trip south with the following highlights:

• We rode around some of the more difficult terrain in Burlingame Management
• I completely missed a turn while leading along a paved section and went a bit further than necessary - thankfully Dan waited several minutes for me to figure out he wasn't there anymore.
• At the Rte 165 crossing the "rigid SS experience" caught up with Dan.  He offered the remainder of the water from the gallon jug - then called for a ride. That was 110 miles in - he suggested maybe I could call for a ride @ Rte 6.  In my head "I gotta finish this thing"
• I missed yet another turn heading north even after Dan provided very good directions.  Thankfully I came across a horse convention thing and was directed to a salty chap named "Neil" who "knew every trail in New England"  Neil was a bit tanked (being memorial day weekend and all) - but after he described the same route three times the same way I decided to take his word for it.  Thanks Neil!
• I missed yet another turn.  The same turn Dan had mentioned his father missed once while blasting downhill.  That's the tricky thing - you have to keep an eye out for the markers when flying down hills!!
• It started to rain. Ok - actually it was a thunderstorm with torrential rain.  I stopped in at the same Shell station on Rte 6 to replenish fluids - the guy behind the counter clearly thought I was bonkers.
•  The worst section - Moosup trail.  Standing water everywhere - I really thought this might be the end
• It started to clear while heading into Foster.  YES!!!
• I kept-a-keeping on - my legs now felt oddly terrific.  Either that or not having to ride through standing water was uplifting.
• George Washington Management - not long now! 
• Missed yet another turn along the powerlines.
• Headed back up Wallum road with plenty of daylight. 
• Then finally for posterity the final mile or so - I tried to capture the awful sound of a completely beat drivetrain here (mile 163)

Total moving time:12 hours 54 minutes.  Downtime - about 50 minutes. 

Closing thoughts: 

There is much to see on the North-South Trail.  In a way, hammering all the way down and back seems a shame.  You witness a part of Rhode Island few folks know exist.  Old foundations, farms, wide open fields, crazy rock formations etc.  As Dan commented: "You could take a guy from Cranston out here and he'd deny it was Rhode Island.

There is more elevation in this part of the world than you'd think.  Strava says just over 8,000 feet.  Garmin thinks it's just over 9,000.  Either way - the western flanks of Rhode Island have some elevation to offer.

In a perfect world your bike would transform from fast road bike, to gravel grinding CX to full suspension Mountain bike with beefy tires.  There is so much variety along the way.  That said,  a full on mountain bike with fast tires is the best choice.

Don't forget to bring chain lube. Or in my case, don't forget *you brought* chain lube. The poor chain was screaming after all the miles. 

I'm thinking this might be something to do annually or maybe again towards fall.  It takes some,  but not too much planning and is entirely doable.