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.

Idaho Gravel: Part 2

Gentlemen, this is a gravel road.

It was with the rising of the Sunday morning sun that we could tell the winds had shifted, literally, and it was not in our favor.  There were some big fires burning in Idaho, one that threatened to erase Sun Valley/Ketchum before it was beaten back by some valiant efforts by firefighters.

But the smoke of the still burning but distant fires was now holding thick in the valleys where we would be riding all day.  It was not all that unpleasant to breath, but it sure would kill the otherwise stunning views that a place like this normally offers.

The camp stove brought us hot coffee, tea, oatmeal, and some home made egg/bread/spinach muffins topped with 'borrowed' green salsa packets from Taco Bell.  Number plates were pinned on, bottles were filled, packs packed.  Off we went.

Parking near the venue, we unloaded and rode over to the start, already crowded with the eager riders, onlookers, and associated support crews.  The local police lead us out of town at the starting bell and the first few miles out of town were pleasant enough;  paved and on a gradual grade towards the mountains.

The gradual part did not last long and soon we were grinding up a stutter bumped gravel road toward the sunrise.  I ran out of gears pretty quickly on the Crux and settled into a low RPM grunt along with the Fat Bikes, Tag-alongs, unicycles and Tandems pulling Burley trailers loaded with livestock.  I am and will always be a leisurely climber and I was not about to burn all the matches on the first climb of a long day.  Ed the Tall disappeared into the distance.  Fare thee well, brother.

I stopped to adjust layers of clothing, and pressed on toward the summit, now in view.  The first checkpoint went by in a flash as we let gravity do the work for us, and I let the Crux have it's head, passing all the fat bikes and more timid descenders.  Wheeeeeee!  That turned to a slight downhill grade for miles as the valley opened up.  As I feared, the smoke really was a buzz kill as it smudged the expansive views that must normally be a part of this route.  Oh well.

From here, the cross bike really paid off.  It was darn fast on the sections of road that were not too beat up from all the vehicle traffic, but a good deal of the time I was in search of the thin, smooth line.  Usually there was some part of the road that was not too washboarded so that was doable and the rough road surface was no match for the tires on the Crux.  You just had to believe and pedal.  It opened my eyes to what is possible on a burly road bike.  I might want one of these.

I passed the 50 mile route right turn and continued towards the 93 mile route.

Pedal, pedal.  I would grab my camera out of the chest mounted case, turn it on, and shoot a pic all while riding.  I managed to not toss my Sony NEX5 into the dust of Idaho and the ride continued.  Almost completely alone, I was seldom passed unless I stopped to take a pic.  All the fast folks were ahead and anyone behind me was about the same as I pace wise.  I stopped here and there for photos.  Yeah, I know, but I was in Idaho for crying out loud!  I may never get here again.  Pace be damned.

At about 32 miles, when the road was no longer smooth and easy, I spotted a lone cyclist approaching. That was Burke, the winner coming back on his way towards town.  He had ridden about 64 miles in the time I had ridden 32 miles.  Oh my.  Wonder what that is like, wearing that big red S underwear when riding?  Go superman!

I was nearing the 35 mile mark and the final checkpoint.  That would be a decision point for me.  Go big or?  I passed into the Copper Basin area and pondered my options.  I still had time to think as the dirt passed by, punctuated by passing vehicles and clouds of dust.  Just me, the Lone Ranger, and my thoughts.  Hi Ho Silver and away.

Next, it is decision time.  I wonder what Tonto would do?

Idaho Gravel: Part one.

The tent wall brushes my face as I roll over to find it still dark outside.  What time is it?  I wriggle an arm out of my down quilt and reach for my phone, the one with the alarm set for o-dark-thirty and find it to be deader than a doornail.  Nuts.  That requires a further search for my reading glasses and Petzl light so my watch can give me a clue.  06:00 AM.  In a tent.  In Idaho.  Ride day today.  How did I get here?

It began with an email invite to Rebecca's Private Idaho, a 93 mile gravel road event to be held in Ketchum, ID.  The idea intrigued me.  I had never been to Idaho.  Never ridden gravel.  And only once before had I come to the century mark off road.  I put it in my calendar and got back to day to day life, but I had a goal to get there in some state of readiness.

My summer was hardly a firestorm of riding success, as is typically the case.  I find So Cal summers to be pretty uninspiring for MTB riding.  It gets hot, dry, brown, dusty and hot.  Yuck.  Then the fires came though and burned a lot of the area I most like to ride.  Double yuck.  What to do?  I needed to get miles and hours in the legs, not just do hill efforts on the SS.  So I actually got out the old road bike and made some adjustments to get it worthy of some longer rides, clicked in, and pedaled for a while.  That, combined with the weekly MTB rides would have to do.  Would it be enough?  I was skeptical, but undaunted.  To Idaho we go.

I was lucky to have Ed the Tall with me for the folly in the Saw Tooth Mtns.  It would make the 16 hour drive palatable and give me a stalwart companion for the adventure.  Ed is a strong rider and fully capable of nearly a hundred miles off road with altitude tossed in and he was ready for a road trip.  Next stop, Ketchum.

Ed the Tall (middle) shows Rebecca that his last name has no vowels in it.  Always good for a laugh.

Salt Lake, Utah, kinda sucks.  I have driven through there twice now and both times it was hot, crowded traffic wise, and just did nothing to make me want to linger.  But leading up to that was a surprising showing across the Nevada desert of greenery.  Lots of it.  Big patches of grass and mud puddles lined the road, a mute but vibrant testimony to the heavy monsoonal rains that have been sweeping through the deserts and the tenacity of the flora here.  Nature is an opportunist and when it rains and in this case, pours, things just get all happy and make the best of it.  That led to the southern Utah area of St George and Cedar City, both parts of my favorite areas of Utah.  But Salt Lake?  No thanks.

We crossed into Idaho in the darkness and took a big gamble that there would be a campsite somewhere near Ketchum that we could base out of.  God was gracious and we found a killer site for two tents full of two tired persons and settled in right about midnight.  I really need to get a tent that does not require a refresher course in tent pole geometry every time I go camping.  Sleep found us and carried us away to the sounds of running water in the distance.

About 50' behind our tents.

The next day was all about getting to know Ketchum, eating pancakes cooked by a volunteer group in town, parade watching, shopping (don't go to Idaho without a sun hat),  picking up our race packets, and grabbing our bikes.  We never figured out the whole duck race thing but that was a great wagon.

Oh yeah.  the bikes.

I would have just run fast tires on my best hard tail 29er, but Specialized had a better idea.  They offered a test ride on some cyclocross scoots that were tailor made for this type of ride.  I normally do not risk taking something so unknown into the wilds but support would be generous and I did not expect and real surprises.  I had never ridden a cross bike before, so this would be new for me.  Can you ride a road bike in the dirt, even if it has sort of knobby tires?  Dunno.  I hedged my bet by bringing a saddle that I trusted that was attached to a smooooth riding ti seat post.  If the butt is happy, so is the rest of me, or close enough.

My Crux

Ed's Crux

And then, we set around the campfire, tossed out all kinds of thoughts about this and that, and then tucked in for a bit of nervous sleep.  And that is where I found myself...in a tent in the dark in Idaho, getting ready to get ready in the cold and dark of a smoky Sunday morning.  Ed was stirring in his tent too and we were on a course to adventure and quite possibly a good amount of suffering.

More to come...

Wined and Dined

A few weeks ago was a media event in the high mtns above Salt Lake City, Utah.  Specialized bikes was rolling out some of the 2013 models for media and dealers from around the globe and I had an engraved invitation.  I did the engraving part, but don't tell anyone.

I flew from the heat of Beautiful Downtown Burbank (remember that line?) to the heat of Salt Lake.  Hmmm...at least the surrounding mtns are bigger here and I hope I am heading up into them.  But first we made a bus stop at the western distribution warehouse for Specialized where we fed a bit and then took the three hour tour.  Stepping into the main warehouse, it was mind blowing.  You know the scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark where they stash the Ark in the endless govt warehouse?  Yeah.  This is here...pretty sure.  I never saw it, but it has to be here somewhere.  The pic does not do it justice, but your could race rally cars in this place.  I did not know that many bikes were sold ANYWHERE combined!  Amazing.  Another standout thing was the general demeanor of the place.  Banners everywhere like the one in the pic.  If you believe the inner web, the Big S has hot coals and pincers right next to the bubbling cauldrons the evil minions stir to cause grief and subjugation to the masses.  I did not see that anywhere.  I did catch a whiff of sulphur though.  Must has been the legal dept offices.

See that bargain S-Works frame on eBay?  Might be a fake-works.  This was a frame that looks pretty legit, but is a bad copy and not even close to the real thing in strength or reliability.  Scary. Well, when you get that 'great deal', at least the money you saved can be used to pay your orthopedic surgeon.

At the main event at Snowbird Resort in a high canyon above Salt Lake, we settled in and...oh look...food.  What a surprise!  Crackers and water, obviously.

The vision was shared by Mike Sinyard, big kahuna of the Big S clan.  He looks fit.  Say what you like, but he sure has gotten a lot of folks on good bikes across the world.  Quite a captain of that ship.  I wonder what will happen when he passes on the compass?

There was nothing too earth shattering, just refinements, but this new carbon rim is pretty interesting.  1600g for $1200.00 bucks.  Roval wheel with a DT Swiss 350 series hub.  But looky ma, no bead hook.  Really?

I love chairlifts at 10K feet.  Really I do.  The trails at the resort for the demo rides were not really very good, but it was OK to get a quick impression of an XC/Trail bike.  I rode a couple of FS scoots and a couple of hard tails.  Two of those were S Works bikes.  Man...light, expensive bikes are so fun to ride.  Yeah, they cost big bucks, but they perform.  Oh...see that fuzzy pic of the old dude climbing where I am chair lifting?  Ned 'the lung' Overend.  Yep...Deadly Nedly.  My hero.

The best part of this kind of gig is not the high zoot bikes and the dessert trays.  Well, the desserts are pretty good.  But the people are the best.  I got to hang a bit and talk to Ned.  What a decent, ordinary grand-pa type.  You know the grand-pa that will rip your legs off you on the trail climb and then you thank him for riding with you cuz he is a legend?  Freaking fast old dude, man.  There was a cyclocross race that he was in one evening.  The players were a mix of journalists and racers and Ned was mid pack at the start.  By the end he was in third.  Who won?  Todd Wells.  Duh.  But man, I think Ned would have been second if he had two more laps to stretch his legs.  Meanwhile, the chicks raged too.  Here, tiny person Amy gets center podium flanked by  Rebecca Rusch and another fast lady rider.  Amy is so short that she rides with her tires flat all the time to get more stand over.  I swear it's true.

Speaking of Rebecca Rusch, she was there of course (on the right in the pic below), doing the 'support the sponsor thing', I suppose, but she sure does a great job in that roll.  Always personable and classy, always ready to help other lady riders...a class act.  I vote to make her a Specialized Ambassador when she 'retires' from the full on race schedule.  You heard it here first.

The last day we were shipped by van up to a nearby canyon where we piled out on our hand picked test bikes for what promised to be a great day on trail.  A 1000' climb at altitude (Puke Hill) and then a 3000' single track descent.  Well, that was fun.  I grabbed a new Epic 29er and that was a great choice, although I would not have minded a heavier trail bike for the rocks...no biggie, but it would have been more of a 'wheee!!!' moment on a bigger bike.  Still, the Epic is IMO the best package in the entire Specialized 29er FS lineup.  Very broad application and very dialed.  One of the all time greats and it just keeps getting refined.

If I could have taken one bike home with me it would have been the new Epic Marathon.  Just under S WOrks spec, but still high end and I love the understated look of it.  This is the choice of serious riders with means but no pretenses IMO.

So, I will leave you with two artsy fartsy shots of trees and wine bottles as I slip back into a reality with no dessert tables or air conditioned shuttles and chair lifts.  Sigh.  Still, better to have wined and dined for a short time then never at all and I still have the two pounds I gained to remember it by.

Ah, memories.  Hey...that rhymes with calories!