Camp 9

Helipad, LA County Fire Camp 9, the hard way up.

 

A pleasant surprise.

Full of possiblities.

When I decided to build up a "gravel bike", despite having very little real gravel at hand, I was not sure if I was going to like it enough to ride it often.  Boy am I pleasantly surprised.  It is a bike that I have been riding more than any other in the stable and that tickles me to no end.  Who would have thunk it?

Now that I have worked through gearing changes and tire selection, at least for now, the bike is working really well.  And I have been pretty happy with the way that Salsa built the Warbird, although I still do wish they did it in a nice steel too.

At a recent press junket, I brought up the subject of Gravel Bikes to many journalists there and almost to a man they responded back with positive comments.  They either are riding a bike like that or are using their cross bike or maybe even a road bike to get into "multi surface riding".

I call it dirt.

And I find myself planning rides now that have a mix of pavement and dirt; big loops that have a good amount of climbing.  I have a buddy that just bought a Raleigh Willard.  I have another buddy that just bought a Specialized Sirrus and we have been wondering how big a tire we can stuff in there and get into some dirt here and there.  The manager of one local shop bought his and hers Cross bikes and that is what they ride most of the time now.  Another shop here in local SO Cal is hosting regular Gravel Bike rides and is reaping the bennies by selling several models in that genre.

Iowa is spilling over to the Left Coast, so it seems.

Tomorrow's self supported road century ride just cancelled, so I have my options open.  I already have a plan and it includes riding across town early on the Warbird, using local paths and streets. Then I will hit the dirt and climb for 9 miles or so on the dirt, mixing in some abandoned paved mtn roads, then returning on surface streets and paths.

I have been researching another route in a nearby town that will be the same type of mix.  My wife is all ready to take her flat bar road bike with 38s and low gears on this one, we just need to get some cooler weather.

So I think I am getting my money's worth out of this gravel bike deal, in fact I think it is paying me back!

Crusher Redux.

"Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, Or what's a heaven for?"
Robert Browning.

I would not have been so excited about heaven if I had known I would need to pedal to get up there.

In 2014 I entered the Crusher in the Tushar race event in Beaver, Utah.  Known as one of the more difficult races of it's kind, it is a 70 mile bike race over a combination of paved and dirt (or gravel) roads and ascends over a total of 10,000' in those 70 miles, much of that at altitude, ending up at around 10,500' feet at the finish line.

It is, to put it mildly, challenging.  It is, to put it succinctly, freaking hard, and the ex-pro road racer that thought up this thing is the race promoter, T. Burke Swindlehurst. 'T-Bird' is a cruel, cruel man to be sure.  That first attempt at the Crusher found me lacking in speed and I missed the time cut off by four minutes.  Four lousy minutes.  And that was the end of my Crusher.  Done.  And to add insult to injury, to rub salt into my lactic acid oozing wounds, I still had to ride another 10 miles and a few million feet of gain (felt like it anyway) to the finish line at the ski resort.  But 2015 would be my revenge.

Rush hour in Beaver, Ut

Beaver, Utah, population 3000 or so, and the birthplace of Butch Cassidy, sits alongside Hwy 15 between St. George and Salt Lake (more or less) and is nestled at the base of the Tushar Mountains which provide an amazingly scenic background for the race course.  It is the kind of place you would come to to ride on vacation, especially for a So Cal guy like me.

Beginning in town, and it's a small town to be sure, the race has a very grassroots feel to it and the community seems to enjoy having it happen. Held on the same weekend as the Butch Cassidy Days festival, the race mixes with pie eating contests and what not.  It is good fun in a way that bigger towns and cities have lost the ability to provide.  The race caps at 600 riders and always fills up fast, so the difficulty of the Crusher is not scaring everyone off.

The race rolls out of town on the paved State Hwy 153 alongside the Beaver River, and while it is not a steep grade, it is still uphill and the packs of riders are out for blood, so it is a fast pace right off the bat. Also, we are beginning at a 5900 feet elevation so flatlanders like me are sucking wind right away.  After 11 miles it hangs a right and the grade immediately ramps up, at first on a chip seal paved surface, then into smooth dirt, and begins to climb and climb and climb, seemingly forever to the first aid station at 18 miles, pitched by a sylvan lake scene. Then it continues to ascend to the 27 mile point where that looming time cut off awaits at check point 2.  You need to be there by 11:00 or you are done racing.

From there, the course drops off the face of the earth and plummets you down the Col 'd Crush, a 4000 foot descent on a gravel covered, washboard infested road, into the Piute valley where you circle around through a couple of towns, ride through the Sarlacc Pit, which can be sandy and hot, before riding back up that steep and ugly descent you barely survived.  That brings you back to the aid station that was the time cut off point before you turn right and climb a good bit more to reach the high point at the finish in the Eagle Point Ski Resort.

But I never experienced most of that as I was out of the race at aid station two.  No Col 'd Crush…no Sarlacc Pit…just what I read about it.  But that was 2014 and 2015 would be different.

Last year I rode a well equipped 29er hard tail.  It was quite good for the day, or I thought so, and it was comfy and had lots of low gears.  The Crusher is a bit of a puzzler as to what bike type is fastest there, and while a cross bike or gravel bike is the prominent choice, there are a lot of riders that race a hard tail 29er or even an FS 29er.  But this year I wanted to try something different.  I had been curious about owning a gravel bike for a while anyway, so I built one up to see if I liked the genre (I do!) and to see if I could improve on my chances at the Crusher.

This is a very fun bike, it just needs a bigger motor.

The 2016 Salsa Warbird (alu model) was built with a SRAM Rival 22 Hydro group running a 36/46 crank and an 11-36 rear cassette.  That 1:1 low gear had shown to be adequate on the steep climbs at home and with the decent DT Swiss wheels and Panaracer 38C Comet tires, the bike weighed in at 21 lbs ready to ride (no bags, etc).  It is a fast bike, and at home I was setting PRs on Strava anywhere I pointed it uphill.  I figured that would transfer over to the Crusher course, but I was to be proved wrong, oh so tragically, dismally, comically wrong.

I had trained hard, or at least as hard as a very early and hot spring-into-summer allowed for and that a working guy could muster.  I had a strong base fitness, and a couple of recent, hard century rides on the road had showed no cracks in my tanned and chiseled facade.  Every ride I did had climbing in it and I was almost always on the Warbird, working out any bugs in set-up, etc.  I felt ready.  I was mistaken.

Race day was going to give us great weather and Ed the Tall, a riding buddy, was there with me to race the event.  My wife had come along too, and her and the dog were going to ride the course a bit ahead of the pack and I would see her along the path somewhere before the cut off.  

Ed the Tall and his Raleigh WIllard

I only needed to be 4 minutes faster than last year.  I was pretty confident that I could do that, but right from the starting gun I was struggling to stay with the pack of riders I began with, the Men's 50+, who are a group of fast, fast, old guys.  Last year the Men's 50+ winner was only an hour and change slower than the overall race winner.  Seriously.

I should have just ignored my heart rate monitor and done whatever it took to stay with the pack for that 11 miles up the highway before the dirt began, but I was afraid of digging a hole so deep that I could never recover so I managed my heart rate and spun along at a good pace.  Still, I was already concerned as to how hard it was for me to recover from any hard effort.  I never felt like I could back off, rest, then jump hard again.  It just was a long, constant feeling of being under water and suffering.  You see I have the body of an antelope; fleet, lean, and fast.  But it is powered by the heart and lungs of a gerbil - soft, round, and furry.  Or so it would seem as altitude really hammers me.  And living at 1200' above sea level (if I am standing on my tip toes) does not help at all.

The dirt began and I was passing some folks who had passed me back, so that was good.  I just had to really minimize any stopped time and go, go, go.  But even with a very short time at aid station one, I was seeing my time slip away.  I was getting concerned.  The clouds rolled in and the wind came up and the temps fell.  I stopped to slip on arm and leg warmers and lost some minutes, but losing critical body heat would be bad too.  Then my cages rattled loose and I did not want to lose my bottles, so I was forced to stop and tighten them.  More time lost.

But what surprised me was how, after attending to the cage deal, my legs were showing signs of early cramping, something that has plagued me for years, but not recently with a well sorted nutrition plan.  That was not good.  And it had me wondering that even if I made the time cut, could I, or should I, press on? 

Miles and minutes went by and the Garmin was not making me feel better. I was running out of time and I simply could not go any faster.  I was just at a loss to do anything about it, and I was struck with this incredulous realization that history was repeating itself. When I came across the wife and dog, maybe 2 miles out from the second aid station, it was 10:56 AM.  I was done and I knew it.  I rode on, preparing to surrender my timing chip, and was in a pretty dark place.  How could I miss this again?  What could I have done differently? Thoughts came to my mind like "You have no business being here."  "Too old and slow."

   

I pedaled on with the consolation that even if I made this by some miracle, it might have been foolish to continue with my legs being the way they were.  That thought was of little help.  On the other hand, I was pretty sure I could have recovered in the descent and the road section to follow and even if I crumbled on the Col 'd Crush, I could walk or surrender the fight with some honor, knowing I made it one step farther than last year.  When I rolled up to the check point I looked at my watch and saw that I was almost precisely four minutes past the time limit, just exactly what I missed by last year.  How comically ironic…better bike (maybe)…better plan (maybe)…same result.  I had to laugh.  Other riders were coming up behind me and finding their race over as well, many of them seemingly stunned by the time cut off. Yep…sucks, huh?  Welcome to my slow, slow, slow world.  And I thought to myself that I will never do this silly thing again.

After a volunteer surgically removed my timing chip from my number plate with a pocket knife, I asked if he could remove my broken heart while he was at it.  Just joking, pal. I already had spit out my lungs along the way, so there would have been plenty of room for him to work. I walked my bike over to the aid table and grabbed some water.  Along the way, well meaning folks were yelling "good job" and "you did awesome".  Well, not really.  Awesome usually gets you past the cut off time in a race.  I was four minutes less than awesome.  I was in no hurry now, so I ate a bit, mixed up some energy drink, and hung out for a few minutes, talking to other shell shocked victims of the sands of time. 

This time I decided not to ride up to the finish line like in 2014, but instead I flipped around and headed back down the course to catch up with the wife and dog so we could hang together and then drive up to the finish area for food and festivities.  I did so with a mixed bag of emotions; relief, angst, frustration, wonderment, resolution, confusion and no little amount of bummed-out-ness.  Along the way I felt the life returning into my legs and looked at the amazing beauty around me, something I had not appreciated on the way up with my tongue stuck to my teeth and my sweat dripping onto my top tube like a melting block of salt.  

My mood brightened as the mountains yielded their elevation to me, and down, down I sped till I met up with the family.  Over a tuna fish and cranberry sandwich, shared three ways of course (the dog), and tasting like the most delicious thing I could ever remember eating, I looked at the lake in these pictures and thought how beautiful this place is.  How terribly, terribly hard and frustrating and difficult and beautiful.

   

And I was already working on a new plan for next year.

Yeah, not bad on the eyes, this Utah.

The registration area blends with the town festivities.

It's a real, honest to goodness pie eating contest.

YESSIR, SERGEANT MAJOR SIR!!!

Cannondale Slate with 45mm-ish 650b slicks

Where it all ended for me.  It was pretty cold too.

The last 1/2 mile of pavement may be the cruelest part of the race.

A rider nears the finish line I have yet to see with a bike under me.  Next year!

Father's Day Morning.

What's In a Name?

"Now you can call me Ray, or you can call me J, or you can call me Johnny, or you can call me Sonny..."  Raymond J. Johnson Jr.

Cross bike.
Gravel Bike.
Adventure Bike.
All Road Bike.
X-Road bike.
Mixed Surface Bike.

I cannot recall a time when the marketing folks in the bicycle industry have struggled so hard to define a niche.  And believe me, this industry LOVES 'niche'.  Niche means you need yet another bike in your stable and this biz thrives on 'the next thing'.  But I digress.

Take a road bike, open it up for bigger tires, slacken the angles a bit, and tune it for comfort and stability and you have drawn a big circle around this new genre.  Now I am not poo-pooing the idea.  Far from it.  I am very much enjoying the gravel bike I have in my garage (yes, the maker of the bike calls it a "Gravel Race Bike".  So, there!).  But not everyone has such a clear vision of what they are selling.

So what's in a name?  This gravel thing was too good to stay in the rolling plains of the Mid West.  It has spilled out across those borders and founds it's way into places like So Cal where I live.  But we have no gravel, per se.  We have dirt.  And we have paved road - lots of that - that can be mixed with dirt.  So the appeal is there for a bike that can cover all kinds of surfaces (although I think "Mixed Surface Bike" is the worst name of all...sounds like a Home Depot product..."mix well and wait 24 hours before use").

"Call me what you like, just don't call me late for dinner."

But what to call them, these new bikes that are not really cyclocross, not really road, and not really an MTB at all?  No one seems to know.  Heck, even I am not sure and I find myself using one of those terms listed above in a conversation and feeling awkward about it, like I called one of my kids by the wrong name. I mean, don't I KNOW what it's called?

No.  And neither does anyone else, it seems.  At least not in the broader sense. Yet defining this in a marketing sense is important...got to get that term right so as to not exclude potential buyers.  And no one wants to miss this gravel gravy train, so you are seeing most of the bike makers getting something out there that gets them in the game.  So back to the list of name options (and I am sure as I write this, more are being thought up).

Cross bike:  In some cases it is accurate, like if I have a Specialized Crux.  But I am not 'Crossing on it (as in cyclocross racing).  Still it is a real 'cross bike, yet most new bikes coming to the market are certainly NOT a 'cross bike and calling them so would be wrong.

Gravel Bike:  Personally my favorite.  Even if gravel is not the same everywhere, it is easy to say and folks 'get it', even if you do not have gravel to ride it on.  It means (or should mean) that it is a bit lower, a bit slacker, more comfy, and bigger tires will fit compared to a typical 'cross bike.  Or at least to me it does and that is where the gravel bike and 'cross bike begin to take separate paths.

Adventure Bike:  Really?  Any bike is an adventure bike. And while you cannot deny that pretty much any bike can be ridden on a dirt or gravel road, not all of them will do it well.  And adventures, or how you experience them, are quite different. There is road based touring, fat biking (snow or otherwise), century-type road stuff, bike packing, and ...gasp...dare we say it, having an adventure on any old regular MTB.

All Road Bike:  Interesting and maybe a contender.  But is a Trek Domane with 32mm tires stuffed in there really a bike for all roads?  There are some roads that would truly suck on that bike.  Try the White Rim Trail in Utah.  It's a road.  Is this the Jack of all, master of none approach?  Not sure.

X-Road bike:  I think Giant has this one in their corporate pocket.  But I have no idea what it means.  Can I cross the road on it or what?

Mixed Surface Bike:  Saw a Ti bike called that from a big builder in that frame material.  Ick.  See Home Depot comment above.

So until something better comes along, I am sticking with Gravel Bike.  At least I have some idea what I am saying at the time.

A sign that befits the quandry, courtesy of the 4077th MASH unit.

Warbird Update

Remember that I had a Warbird on order?  Well go over to ridinggravel.com and look for the Warbird article series.  But I am very happy with what it has turned out to be.  I am still fine tuning gearing and tires and such but I think that is about done for now, or at least until 1X road gets on the market and then I might go to Gearing Phase III.

Meanwhile....it is being used and enjoyed.  It is surprising where that bike can go and not surprising where it cannot go.

More on that later.

Why is this so hard?

Well, posting has taken a biiig back seat to all the rest of my writing/testing duties and that is not likely to change soon soooo…..apologies, if you care.

But this gravel bike thing…oh man has this been a journey.  I have never found it so hard to get just what I want - price, geometry, features, construction, etc.  I could get really close, but having all the things I wanted in the right combo simply does not exist as far as I can see.

So this is what I was looking for, based on what I know and what others that I trust know:

• Geometry:  A low BB of AT LEAST 70mms of drop.  75mms would be better.  A head tube angle that will not be too scary at speed on the dirt.  What is that for sure?  Dunno', but over 72° is not it.  Lower stand-over, in that I mean a sloping TT so the seat tube length is NOT taller than my road bikes fer cryin out loud!  I am not shouldering this thing and running up steps and I do not care at all about your bias, speaking to the bike frame builders here, the bias that says a level top tube looks 'classic'.  So do steel forks and gum wall tires.
• Features:  Big room for big tires.  At least 40s with mud room.  I can always run a smaller tire if I want to.  Multiple WB mounts would be good.  Fenders or rack mounts?  Don't care.
• Construction:  A decently compliant ride, regardless of the material used. Most bikes I looked at were over-built for gravel use.  Has to have a carbon fork for weight savings and vibration canceling.  
• Price:  I'm not rich and this not my main ride for life, so a custom frame is not in the cards.  Frame/fork for a grand or so would be fine.

One of the issues here, maybe the BIG issue here, is the muddy mess that this gravel/all-road/any-road/dirt road niche has become.  Even the riders who are doing it cannot agree on what is good or bad for bike set-up.  The manufacturers are trying to figure out if the trend is worth the cost of all the R&D to jump in for real. Or they are trying to say that the cross bike they have is a great dirt road bike too.  

Despite all this, and working within the compromises in the market place, I nearly had the following bikes in my garage:

• Ritchey Swiss Cross disc - Nice steel, not heavy Surly-type steel.  Carbon fork, NOT overbuilt.  Will ride very nicely, I bet, based on the time on my steel Ritchey road frame.  Only room for a 38C tire and a BB drop of 63mm plus a semi steep HT angle had it on the iffy list, but I would have pulled the trigger except production delays had me passing on this one.
• Raleigh Williard -  Tics all the right boxes and is lighter than the all steel Tamland.  Big tire room, long and low.  Tons of BB drop.  Slacker angles.  The alu frame ride quality is a complete unknown though and I would have had to buy a complete bike (no frame option) and strip it.  Still, this was a contender and I think Raleigh at least 'gets it' regarding gravel bikes.
• Specialized Crux - Expensive in carbon, better $$ in alu and with a frame only option.  Maybe room for bigger than 38s.  Decent geo specs, but still a cross bike approach.  And besides that, they were out of stock, but I had ridden the carbon version and I liked it.
• Niner RLT - Every professional review I read on this bike mentioned the rough ride.  Overbuilt for its intended use.  High BB too, but big tire room and slacker HT angle is nice.  Good price too.  Pity.
• Ibis Hakkalugi - I actually had a great deal on a demo bike and had it in my house when the deal was just not quite right for me.  Still, the geo is very good, low and slack, and the frame is known for a smooth ride.  Only room for 38s or so, but this one was very close to ideal.  In the end, the $$ level of the deal was just not right.
• Salsa Warbird - Too much money in Ti and the alu one had a rep for a stiff ride.  Tire size is sort-of ok, and it could be lower and slacker too.
• Others like All City cycles, Black Mtn Cycles, Surly, and a Ti frame that cannot be named…either they were too heavy, too tall, too high, too something.

Sigh.

Then Frost Bike 2015 happened and the clouds parted a bit.  The new Salsa Warbird was announced and my ears perked up.  It was a bit lower at the BB.  It was more compliant than before, and even the alu model was better in that regard than the old Ti version.  It had tons of tire room.  It still was a bit steep in front, but the new fork was redesigned for gravel use, not 'cross use, so it looks like it is NOT overbuilt for miles of tiny bumps.  It was not too tall at the ST and it was tall enough at the HT for this old guy.

And, best of all, the alu one was available as a frame set at a just under one grand cost with a carbon fork.  Oh my.  Unless I want to wait for the next year for something else that may never come, this was very, very close to ideal.

And it's on order.

But I have no gravel!

And yet, here I am on the precipice of purchasing a 'gravel' bike…well, it is a cross bike really, but it will be a sweet gravel bike too.  Am I just a bandwagon jumpee?  Perhaps.  I tried the slack-in-front/short-in-back 29er hard tail deal and that was a bust.  I mean, you cannot pick up an industry mag without reading about either fat bikes or gravel bikes.  Am I chasing a fad?

I don't think so, and this is why.

I have already ridden three gravel events, one on a cross bike, one on a 29er hard tail, and one on a 29er FS (Epic) so I have an idea of how it feels to ride one.  As well, I really, really liked the format of the events.  They were long and non-technical, but challenging and scenic.  I really liked them and pedaling for miles in open spaces or along mountain roads does not bother me at all.

I have been doing a lot of summer road riding, so the body position and overall style of bike is working for me on the road.  It is not like I have never held onto drop bars before.

But.

I got no gravel.  Nope.  None.  Not in the classic style, anyway.

Oh now, I have dirt roads…yessir…lots and lots and lots of those.  And I have miles of paved roads connecting them so there is the potential to make some big training loops by stitching together road and dirt sections.  And I plan on entering at least two gravel events for 2015, so while it is still a gamble, it is not a complete jump off a blind cliff.

If it all goes well and the stars align, etc…

Idaho Revisited…The Victory Lap

Life has been quite intense since Mid August, so there has been little energy to blog…still, this demands a conclusion.

All the way to Idaho I was gauging my health and staying decently drugged up.  I had come down with a cold of some kind the week before the event and I was really struggling on whether or not to go. In the end, I figured if nothing else I could cheer on Navy Mike and drink hot teas in a coffee shop while he raced. I was really hoping not to infect Navy Mike along the way, but I figured that it would take longer than 1.5 days to have anything really affect him for the event day.  If he gets sick post-victory, so be it.  We can eat cheeseburgers and take Sudafed together.

Along the way, at gas stop somewhere, I was listening to a group of touristy looking folks with interesting accents while I waited in the world's longest Subway Sandwich line.  It turns out they were a bunch of New Zealanders out on holiday along the old Route 66, all of them in matching Ford Mustangs.  Sweet.

Friday night we rolled into the area and found our hotel…a very nice one, by the way…just downstream a bit from Ketchum.  We unloaded our bikes in a light rain.  Hmmmm.  93 miles of rain riding and a head cold too?  The Sun Valley area had been getting an unseasonable amount of summer rain and while that could make for nearly dust free and fast road conditions, it might be over the top on the day of.  We shall see as the weather was supposed to clear by then.

Saturday we arose and headed over to the town square for the pancake breakfast served to us by bright faced young girls and all of this for charity.  Awesome.  We set up our chairs on main street for the parade later on and did what any high level athlete does the day before the race.  We went shopping.  This is the weekend when the town shuts down summer and flips the winter switch so the deals at the local outdoors shops are really pretty good.  The parade was very cool…that is a really, really big steer.

I went for a walk with Navy Mike to see if we could get to the river we could hear below town.  A wall of fancy condos and driveways with No Trespassing signs kept us from our goal.  Sooo close and yet…  I was just about done-in by my 2 mile walk.  At this point I could not imagine riding tomorrow.  I was a bit concerned.  I waited in a line in the nicest Starbucks I had ever seen, hit the green tea and honey and waited to see what the next day would bring.  We ate at The Powerhouse, a combo bike shop/food place/micro brewery that served a great ahi burger.  I actually was feeling better as well but I was still nervous about the next day.

And then it was here.  Thanks to God and a good night's sleep, I woke up feeling nearly normal. The early morning ritual of up in the dark, figuring out breakfast, final mixing of bottles, then out in the dark to drive to the start in Ketchum had me feeling better and better about this endeavor. The crowds, the bikes, nervous laughter, colorful jerseys and lots of selfies; the starting line poured into the street and out of town to Trail Creek Road with a police escort.

Nissan is a new event sponsor.

Last year I had a lighter bike and a small Camelbak.  I pushed too hard too fast and did not have spinning gears for the first climb.  I never really recovered from that and that was a big factor in my cutting short the ride the first time.  This year I had a much heavier bike and no hydration pack, but I had gears!  Real MTB gears, light wheels, fast tires…mix that with the good pedaling platform that a Specialized Epic is and I was passing groups of people that last year were passing me.  This is a good plan.

The rain was beginning to fall and up ahead, the summit was draped in clouds.  All I could hope for was a clearing or something less than full on rain.  I had dressed a bit conservatively and did not have any real rain gear.  Monsoons would end this day for me.  I was wearing some Specialized bib shorts with knee warmers, a base tank, a race s/s jersey from Endura with a wind proof front, and arm warmers with a Buff head wrap.  Wool socks and a extra set of warmer gloves and a windbreaker was all I had to upgrade to if the weather came in.  Up we went into the mist.

I barely stopped at the SAG stop at the summit and pressed on with the goal of not missing the cut off.  This year would see record setting course times as the dirt was packed down and there was little washboard.  The weather had opened up so it looked like it would not rain anytime soon.  I flew on the Epic and ran right by the second SAG.  Hitting SAG 3, I was almost an hour up on last year's time and I felt pretty darn good too.  The head cold was not affecting me and my legs were still moving well.  I was going to make it.

I took my time at SAG 3, fueled up and headed out into Copper Basin, the best part of the ride.  I was doing the mental calculations on a finishing time.  I had set out to do 8 hrs start to finish.  Navy Mike had set a 6.5 hour goal.  I was thinking I might be under 7 hours myself.  Wow.  I pedaled with renewed focus and the miles and hours clicked by.  Back at SAG 3 and 4, I stocked up on food and water and hit the fast return to Trail Creek road.  I was thinking I would be close to 6.5 hours!  But I knew that last year, as soon as I turned onto Trail Creek Rd, the headwinds hit me full on.  That could be a kill joy for a record time.

Meanwhile, cranks were turned and gravel sped by under my tires.

Room to spread out.

Sure enough, as soon as I swung left onto Trail Creek Rd, I not only started a slight uphill grade, it was into a constant wind.  Later on, Navy Mike would call this section out as "riding in a very dark place".  I watched my speed drop from 20+ to 15 to 10 to 8 mph.  Meanwhile I was conserving some legs as I knew in about 10 miles that the grade would increase for a good mile or two.  The math was not working in my favor and 6.5 hours would be impossible.  Maybe 7 though, so I kept at it, stopping to stretch a bit and pee, but mostly making circles with my pedals over and over.  As I neared the summit, the wind abated and I knew that at 80 miles I had it made because then it was 12 miles or so downhill into town.  7 hrs had slipped away from my grasp in that purgatory of windy road, but not to be daunted, I set 7.5 hours as the new goal.  Down I flew on a section that just drops and drops and drops on a washboard dirt road with no guardrail.  Last year, on the Crux cross bike, I had to manage my speed and nearly ran out of hand strength to hang on, brake, and steer.  It was not that much fun.  This year, with 2.1 tires and 100mms of travel…shoot…it was a brake free 25mph plunge feeling totally relaxed.  But that darn wind.  I was still having to pedal hard to keep my speed up and that was going to make 7.5 hours very close.

The organizers had wisely set the timing line just outside of town so no one would be racing in urban traffic areas.  But it still meant that I had a few miles of paved road rollers to make the finish and I just pinned it, watching my Garmin click off the elapsed time.  I could see the finish line but it was going to be very close.

Over the line at 7 hrs and 32 minutes.  Close enough.

I sat up, breathed a deep, deep breath of satisfaction and put it in cruise mode.   Done and done.

Back in town the party was in full force.  I did not realize how spent I was till I got off the bike and walked around.  I think the cold had caught up to me and it took a Coke and a hand made pizza to get me right.  Navy Mike had finished in 6 and 20, so he was under his goal as well.  I was actually very happy to be only an hour and change off his pace over 90 miles as he is a strong rider.  The Scott Spark that he rode was very similar in set-up to my Epic and he had 'roadie' types drafting him over the rougher sections of the course where he could stay seated and pedal hard.  For shame…wheel suckers. :)

That night was a well deserved bacon burger back at The Powerhouse and then the long drive home the next day.  It was a good trip back to Idaho.  Next year?  We shall see.

The 'after glow' courtesy of Patron.

Recovery food for the soul.

For my official write up of RPI 2014, clicky here for the gravelgrindernews.com site

Idaho Revisited: Rebecca's Private Idaho 2014

I was not going to do it, you know.  Too far to drive.  Costs money.  Takes time.  Takes training.  Meh!

But then Navy Mike said he was looking to do something semi-epic this year and did I have any plans?  Not really.  Past the Crusher in the Tushar, I had nothing but a bunch of road centuries and they do not really require training, just lots of riding to be ready for them.  But after a few minutes of texting and emailing, it was settled.  I was going to Idaho.  Again.

My time there was bittersweet in 2013.

Part One.

Part Two.

Part Three.

I was slower than I wanted to be, but not by much, yet I barely made the cutoff.  Feeling the strain, I flipped early and only rode 72 of the 93 miles for the full course.  So if I was going to go back, I was going to keep my fitness a bit higher and ride it more like a race and less like a tour.  Less pic taking, Posie sniffing, and casual pedaling might get me an hour faster than last year overall.  Maybe.

I also had to decide what bike to ride.  Last year I reserved a Specialized Crux and that was really fun to ride, never having been on a cross bike before.  I had just built up a hard tail 29er for The Crusher race but I did not really like the way that 29er HT worked for me so it caws stripped.  That left me with two choices…reserve a bike again or race whatever I had left that was kinda fast.  The Crux was light and all, but the gearing was higher than I have on my new road bike.  And that 36T/28T low combo was not enough to let me spin up the first long climb out of town.  Being able to spin really helps me stay fresh for the next few hours of riding and so deeper gears would offset the lighter bike IMO.

So I have one other bike that seemed reasonable to ride.  The Specialized Epic is a fast feeling FS 29er and this one has quite a nice build on it…carbon wheels, etc.  Probably 5 pounds heavier than the Crux, it is comfy for all those washboard roads and is a great pedaling bike all around.  Decision made.  Use what you know.

So I set out to work on my fitness by laying out a plan that would see me building all the way till late August.  It was going well and it involved a lot of road riding in the Summer heat.  Then I got sick, some kind of a weird intestinal thing.  That cost me a week.  Then I worked 30 hours of overtime the next week.  Then my house flooded and we had to move out while that was dealt with.  And then I had another bout of illness that took me out for another week.  Although I never stopped riding, it took one month of quality training out of my life.  That sucked.  But it is what it is and at least I am typically fit, but not where I wanted to be.

So I had the bike - The Epic with the XX drivetrain and Carbon Roval wheels shod with fast rolling but plumpish Race King and X King tires.

I had the fitness to survive, I think, but not excel.

I had a plan to tweak a few things too.  First, I knew the route and what to expect.  Barring things like weather and wind, that would allow me to better gauge the effort I could afford to put out.  Of course, the extra 25 miles of the course I never rode is a wild card.  I wanted to get the weight off my back, so no hydration pack.  That meant a frame bag to carry essentials like extra tube, pump, windbreaker, and drink mix packets/supplements.  A bar mounted bag (Revelate Mountain Feedbag) will keep a bottle at hand and I will alternate between Fluid Performance drink mixed up double strong (@200 cals per bottle) and Camelbak fizzy lifting drink tablets.  If the weather is hotter, I will mix in Elete tablytes.

I will treat it more like a very fast ride, maybe even a race.  That goes against my grain as I love a challenge, but the pressure of a race pace does not appeal to me.  But I need to step up and change that a bit.  I made a real error at the Crusher in the Tushar and it was bitter lesson.  If I miss the cut off this time, it will not be due to a tourist mindset.

Ed the Tall is not my travel buddy, but Navy Mike is actually race ready I think and is a very strong rider.  He even has been working with a coach and had a drink mix custom blended just for him.  Sheesh!  I just recently got on Strava and bought a Garmin.  Old mountain bikers never die, they just begrudgingly take on new technology every ten years.  I predict to see Navy Mike at the beginning of the race and at the end and never more than that.  I will be alone again to face my own demons of doubt and suffering but I am used to that.

So off the Idaho I go.  Ready or not.  But don't expect a bunch of pics.  I'm racing this time.

Idaho Gravel: Part Three

The last oasis.

I could see the flags in the distance.  Pivotal flags, as they heralded the rest stop that was at the beginning and end of the lollipop 'loop' section that was the top of the 93 mile route.  I rolled in and asked what the cut off time was.  He looked at me and said, "You are it, but you are welcome to take the loop."

I had made the cut.  But did I care?  I considered my options.  I had been riding at a 10mph average pace what with my less than 'Type A' personality and pic taking, etc.  I felt OK at 35 miles and I knew what I had before me if I flipped now.  A lot of that return would be into the wind on a slight to more than slight grade.  The next 25 miles if I did the loop included another good climb and was an unknown otherwise.  It was supposed to be quite beautiful as far as scenery goes, but the smoke was kinda limiting that.  If I flipped now, I would be at 72 miles or so and that was still pretty far.  On the other hand, did I come here to ride 93 miles or turn away and accept less?

Oh my.

I decided to flip and make this the apex of the ride.  I relaxed a bit, ate some goodies and watched some of the fast folks come in and go out.  Rebecca was there, being the queen bee and talking to Levi Leipheimer.  They looked pretty fresh as they rode out chatting.

I have to confess I felt a bit alone now.  If I had been with someone I might have pressed on, but looking down that road into the last loop, it seemed a bit much.  That typically does not deter me as I have relished many long hours of alone time on a bike.  But in the back of my main was the limitations of my body.  I tend to leg cramps.  I rarely if ever just run out of gas, but leg cramps have always been my kryptonite.  I manage them better now with keeping fitness up and with good supplements, but walking up the last climb at 80 miles had little appeal.

Back I went, tail slightly tucked in but still resolved to it.  Then the road tilted in my favor and I roared out of the last checkpoint toward home.  Well, it felt like roaring until I was passed by two riders, one a lady-type, in a particularly rough section of washboard like I was tied down.  Wow.  The downhill had me feeling pretty good and I was seriously bummed about not taking the loop.  But later on, Ed the Tall would tell me that this 27 miles had the worst road conditions in the entire ride and was actually harder than the rest of the route.  I did not know that as I rode along, doubting my decision, but at around 50 miles, when the road turned up again, only a slight grade now, but into a headwind...well, I think I was wise to cut my losses.

As I rode this direction, the air, now in my face, also was clearing out some of the smoke and that was nice.  It was almost worth the extra effort it required, just for the cleaner air.  I tried to hop a freight train or two (pace lines) going by but they were just a gear above what I could manage and still feel good about the distance.  So, I sat up, pulled the reins in and let the other horses go.

My photo pal.  She and I were hopscotching along for a bit as we would take turns stopping for pics.  She was the only person I spoke to for hours.

I recognized the last climb of the day towards the first/last aid station and knew that I had a couple of miles of climbing, then the loooong downhill towards town.  I was feeling pretty tired now, but still could climb out of the saddle and put down some power, but not for any length of time.  I had some odd twinges about mid/low outside left calf that felt weird, but no other signs of leg issues.  Golden!

Over the crest, having tanked up with one last bottle and a couple of roasted/salted potatoes with rosemary, I dropped into the descent.   It was buuuUUumMMmPpPpppEEeeEee.  Washboard hell.

Holy smokes.  There were a few times that I nearly reached the physical limits of being able to grasp the hoods, brake, and steer all at once.  The drops were an answer to that, but that was a bigger strain on an already tired neck.  Did I actually climb this about 6 hours earlier?  I guess so.  Here is one of the places I would have loved to have a real mountain bike with some kind of suspension fork.  Any kind.  But I still was going pretty good and once on the pavement rollers back into town, I was surprised how strong I felt.  Must have been those Idaho potatoes.

I felt great rolling through the banner, tired, dirty, salty, crusty, but great.  Until I got off the bike and found that my left ankle was really, really mad at me.  It only hurt when I walked.  It hurt a lot.  Weird. that was just like the time on that desert bikepacking trip, only then it was the right ankle.  I thought it was from walking for 6 hours in bike shoes pushing my 45 pound beast through the sand.  I could pedal, but not walk without pain.

So here I was again, but no hiking to explain it.  Odd.  That would require some bio-forensics to see what is triggering that response.  I rode back to the car, changed, drove back to drop off the bike and waited for Ed the Tall while I enjoyed a root beer float.  Done and done.

But I left some things undone.  I would like to come back here and see this place under clearer skies.  I would like to see that unridden 27 miles of gravel.  Things left undone.

That evening, full of food, including some of the best grilled chicken I have ever had, and, after a shower in the swankiest YMCA I have ever seen, Ed and I talked about the day and what was next on the adventure calendar.  Tomorrow would be a long day's drive back to So Cal, away from Idaho and a long stretch of gravel road that calls to me still.  It is a friendly voice that calls, calm and soft, but there is a bit of a challenge underneath those soft tones.  A questioning lilt that turns up the corner of the mouth as it is spoken.   A twinkle in the eye, perhaps?    Part happy memory and part challenge, that is what I am hearing.  A mix of "thanks for being here" and "is that all you got, son?"

Things left undone are often like that.