Race Report : Return on the Jedi

Many speak of the legend of the Jedi trail, in hushed tones describing the giddy flow of its high speed descent in the shadow of giant trees. Indeed it is a hard-sought treasure, perched up in the South Western Oregon mountains, accesible only by a treacherous winding single lane road.

My journey started auspiciously. Picking up some last-minute supplies at the grocery store, I was carrying the bags back to the car when I realized I had forgotten to get ice. Not wanting to stand in line again, I decided I would just 'borrow' a couple of bags of ice, and pay for it some other day. As I furtively approached the ice-cooler, trying to appear nonchalant, I was dismayed to see that the cashier who had checked me out, was standing not too far away, arranging some items on display. Surely if she happens to look up and see me reaching into the cooler, she will sound the alarm, knowing that I did not ask for any ice. I decide to go for it, and make haste with my exit. Loading everything into the car, I am expecting at any second the sound of trampling feet, and an exultant shout of "There he is - the guy who didn't pay for the ice!". But I make a clean getaway.

As I head South on 97, I see an electronic signboard mentioning a vehicle accident at Milepost 196. I estimate that I am probably exiting a bit before this, so pay little heed to it. However some time later I hit stopped traffic, and assume my calculations were a little off. After half an hour of waiting, whilst I eat a sandwhich and stuff my self with various other food and drink, I finally exit my vehicle and meander around, trying to see what's going on ahead. A truck driver yells out of his cab window at me : "It's backed up 3 miles!". Then he too exits his vehicle, and engages me in conversation. He is Canadian, from Toronto, and has no idea where he is - just that he's carrying a load to San Francisco. Apparently the highway has been closed for several hours, as the accident ahead is quite serious. After almost an hour of waiting, the line of cars starts moving slowly forward. Pass the accident scene, and it is one of signficant devastation. I see one crumpled vehicle, and the shattered remains of what was maybe a motor-home. Then, bodybags lying to the side, not empty... Gruesome.

3 more hours of driving, and I'm going West after passing by Grant's Pass. Miss it the first time, but turn around and find the 'winding single lane paved road', which I need to follow for 14 miles to get to the campground where the race starts from. This road is unreal - very twisty, and constantly ascending, paralleling a deep chasm to one side. I see the occasional bike race sign, along with signs to someone's wedding. I am hoping the destination for both groups will not be the same. Finally reach the campground just as it's getting dark, and manage to grab a descent spot. As I start unloading, I am aware of 2 things : there are many cars with bikes on them in the various camp sites, and there is loud music and hollering going on in the near distance - must be the wedding. The incongruity of the situation is rather amusing : on the one hand you've got your bike racers, a group that wants to go to bed early and arise refreshed, ready to race. And on the other hand, you've got hard-core wedding partiers that have quite a different goal. I think about moving further from the noise, maybe another campground - but I've got earplugs, I'll stick it out. As I walk to the pay station to submit my camping dues, I see bikers making ready with their equipment, and also encounter groups of drunken wedding-goers wandering aimlessly. At one point I am surrounded by a few of the inebriates, who decide that they want my headlamp. I bristle a bit, preparing to deal with a potential altercation, but defuse it with humour and questions, and I think it was all harmless anyways.

At 10 pm, the generator at the wedding party is shut-off, and the related sounds die down quickly. So should be able to get some rest. During the night, there are a few outbreaks of hooting and hollering, but mostly I hear the soothing sound of a rushing stream in the distance.

The next day dawns cool, but by race start at 10 am the sun is burning down forcefully. After a short singletrack teaser, we start the main climb up a forest road. After an hour or so of grinding upwards - a 2000 foot climb - get a short high speed descent (35mph) - then more climbing on singletrack. This is loose, and I'm forced to walk a bit. Finally at the top, and what follows is an epic 2200 foot descent. Above treeline at the top, running through rocky slopes. I crash here for the first time in a while, and actually bloody my arm up - cool! I see someone in front of me bleeding from the same place. Back into the trees for more fun steep switchbacking descents. Finally at the bottom, where the trail starts paralleling that chasm with the road on the other side - must be some climbing still to go. I come around a corner, and the trail seems to split in two, without a sign as to which way to go. Straight ahead leads down towards the stream, while left switches up the hill. Someone comes up from below, carrying their bike, unsure of which way to go. I think, well if there's no sign, we must go straight by default. He says he saw some bike tracks down below, but they seemed to dead end at the stream, so he came back. We both decide to head down to check it out. There's a steep off-camber rock section, where he takes an ugly-looking flip over the bars onto the rock, but appears to be OK. Down at the bottom, it appears the only way we could continue would be to ford the stream. Finally some sense gets knocked back into me, and I say 'This just isn't right', and we climb back up. Shit, another race, another screw-up - how long did this cost me ?

Get back on what must be the right trail, and start to hammer hard to make up time. Soon encounter another rider ahead, and it's ChrisS. I realize I need to pass him decisively or he'll hang on my wheel, so push hard as I go by. Keep going hard, and soon and I'm not feeling so good. Looking down at my monitor, I can see my heart rate at 5% above max, a zone it's never been in before in a race. Slow down a bit to recover, but it stays up. Hmm, this is not good. Maybe I am as they say 'blowing up' ? Finally stop worrying about it, and just go as hard as I can. Pass a few other people, some which I already passed earlier. The climb is relentless, a cruel way to end a race ! Finally pass a water station, where they say only 5 miles to go, and all downhill. This is the Jedi trail, which is high-speed swooping magic. OK, this is an awesome way to end a race. Come out to the finish, and don't see that many people around, so perhaps I wasn't burnt too bad by my diversion.

As it turns out, I lost 4 minutes going the wrong way, and this had absolutely no effect on my placing. But it was close - I got 1st place in Expert 40+, but 2nd and 3rd were only a minute behind. Didn't know I had first until the awards ceremony - and got to stand on one of them there high boxes, with lower boxes on each side. This race was also the last of a 3-race series, and there were awards for this - and I won that too in my category : got some funky etched glass thing you can see in the pic below. I could be humble and mention that if the other guy who was ahead of me on points had shown up, he probably would have won. But instead I think I'll just say "Eat my dust!"

Race Report : Mt. Hood SkiBowl

Last year I attempted this race, but fell a bit short, as the family camping trip near the race site didn't exactly work out : a night of heavy cold rain which leaked into the tent, freezing temperatures and some snow the morning of, and general miserable damp conditions. So yeah we got out of there fast and went back to bask in the normal climate of Bend.

But things looked much better as I made the drive up to Mt Hood on Sunday morning. Sunny skies and warm temperatures. Was feeling somewhat crappy after a 2-week hiatus from training [the family DisneyLand/camping trip], but at least no ass-freezing would occur. Drove into the SkiBowl parking lot, and picked a nice shady spot to park. Got out of the car and - what the f*ck!? - I am greeted by a blast of icy cold air ! Check the thermometer - yup, it's 11C and windy. Quickly add some layers to my shorts and sandals attire, and repark the car in a nice sunny spot. This place definitely has its own micro-climate.

Luckily I had thrown a few cold-weather riding items into the car at the last minute : Goretex sox and whatnot, so I couldn't wimp out and drive home.

We lined up at the start, and they began going over the course. The course director held up a large cardboard map of the trails, and described the navigation procedure. Now if you recall the Mt Hood race I reported on last year, you remember how I bitched about all the intersections, and how various age groups and classes all got routed differently and it was very confusing. Course marshals were similarly confused, frequently sending people in the wrong direction, and their timing was all screwed up as there were parts of the course were racers were going in both directions on the single-track. Well as I listened to all the various loops and turns we had to do today, my eyes becoming crossed and my brain cramping, I realized this might be deja-vu all over again [yep that's redundant but it sounds right]. But hey maybe they fixed up their procedures and it would all work out. What's this, since I'm in the Expert 40+ category, I get to wear a pink ribbon on my handlebar to facilitate the marshall's job ? Hey that's brilliant, or very stupid, I'm not sure :)

The race starts and as expected [psyche!] I feel somewhat weak and wheezy. We start climbing up the face of the main ski run - for the enjoyment of the crowd which is watching the downhill race which is just finishing up. My friend Chris passes me at the bottom of the climb - and I foresee a strenuous back-and-forth friendly competition between us today. But suddenly he pulls over, and I look back and see him flipping his bike - some mechanical problem. Now there are only 3 other 'pink-ribbons' to worry about - I think I see them ahead.

We grind up the steep switchbacking climb - which is actually an intermediate downhiller trail. I have a new tire on the back for increased cornering traction, but unfortunately it appears to lack climbing traction, and I'm spinning out frequently.

I'll skip the next hour or so until we get to the fun juicy bits. So it's past the halfway mark in the race, and we're climbing up a horrendously steep ski run which just goes on and on. The trail is loose and rutted, and if it was 1 degree steeper I'd probably be walking. I've been in a group of 5 or 6 riders for the last little while, but myself and another guy are climbing well, and we open up a significant gap. At the top of the climb, he goes left and I go right - I have a pink ribbon, so the marshall sends us both the right way. Actually the marshalls have been pretty good so far, so I'm thinking perhaps there will be no screw-ups. Trying to maintain the gap, I pound down the ensuing fire road at high speed. As I come around a corner, I am confronted with a confusing scenario : there is a sign that directs Pro/Expert to go left, and another sign that directs Sport/Beginner to go right. Well, this is the first time I've seen a sign like this all day, but anything's possible... The confusing bit is that there is a small log lying across the Pro/Expert trail entrance, as if to deter entry. My tired and sweating brain determines that the log is to prevent the less-experienced racers from picking that line, and that Pro/Experts should just hop across and keep going. Makes sense, so I go for it. The trail goes into the woods and starts descending rather steeply - soon large rocks appear, and I am going off 2-3 foot drops. At this point, several voices in my head all start talking at once. Voice #1 is 'stoked' that they picked such a cool steep technical line for part of the course, and is basically saying "Woohoo!". Voice #2 is saying this is starting to look wrong and you should turn back. Voice #3 is being the calm collected optimist - stating that this is probably just a short section and must be the right way - don't worry about it. As the trail gets gnarlier and gnarlier, and I note the lack of small race signs which have been tacked onto the trees in the other parts of the course, I begin to slow down and pay heed to Voice #2. Finally at a full stop, I look up at the intimidating climb that faces me if I decide to retrace my steps. That sucks. I turn to keep going, but the Voice#2 is strong and makes me hump my bike back up the trail - maybe there was another trail entrance that I missed on the left. Get to the top [probably lost no more than 5 minutes with this diversion?], see no other trails, and again look at those initial signs. I am frozen with indecision. I rider comes by with a hand-drawn plate. He says he is in Expert, and asks me where we should go. I quickly describe what I just did, and then he says he's going right. What the hell, I follow him. Probably totally off-course, stupid race !:)

We go down the downhill run that we first climbed up. I can see pretty far down the hill, and see no racers I recognize ahead that were in the group I gapped earlier - could they still be behind even after I went off-course ? Or maybe my diversion lasted longer than I thought ? Hey maybe they made some other wrong turn. Get to the bottom, and we go over the bridge for the last lap. At the major SNAFU intersection, I am thinking I have to go up that big strenuous climb again, but I am directed up a different road, that leads back to the downhill I just did. Head for the finish line, with no one around me in front or behind. As I come through, I hear 'First Place, 40+', and am handed a gold medal. OK, now I know I screwed up - there's no way I can be first, not in Expert, and not with that diversion I took. I talk to other racers that have finished, trying to figure out if I went the right way - and apparently I did. Except for the 'Diversion' of course : it turns out those signs I misinterpreted were actually for the downhill race which happened earlier in the day - so I was XC'ing my way down the ProExpert downhill course - cool - maybe I should enter the Hardtail class in that race next time.

As racers cross the line, I hear more and more stories about misdirections and confusion. Maybe this is some kind of Love/Hate Codependency disfunctionality going on here. The race organizers fiendishly craft complicated race courses, and the racers love bitching about it afterwards. I am about to leave, and decide to look more closely at the results, as I still don't believe my first place finish. I ask the finishing line dude if I can check out the nametags and results board, and I see a name I recognize - someone who's usually way ahead of me - check their time - yup, that's faster than me. So I hand them the Gold medal and ask for the Silver. The guy gives me a funny look, as if I'm trying to pull something on him, then comprehension dawns and he swaps the medals and thanks me for being honest. Well they would have figured it out sooner or later anyways. At least I got some hardware - no great achievement as only 5 in my class - and maintain my #1 ranking in the Expert 40+ standings [at least until the really fast guys start showing up at more races:)]

Race Report : Humbug Hurry-Up

This race with a wierd name is a must-do on my list, so even though I would be pretty sacked from the 42-mile race in Bend the previous day, I decided to give it a go. I would take it easy, and strap on my helmet cam to get some cool video footage. If you haven't read my entry from last year about this race, I'll just say it's a classic, with all the elements that make for a great experience : swoopy fun single track to start off, then a 1500 foot climb of forest road with some single track thrown in here and there, a plateau section at the top with amazing views, then a steep loose descent they call 'The Chute' [they say it with reverance, but for anyone who's descended Rock'n'Roll in Squamish it's rather tame], followed by a long section of razor-thin trail that hugs steep hillsides all the way to the bottom. You do this twice, and then there's a mile long flattish section to the finish line, where you can get into those fun give-it-all-you've-got battles with other riders doing the same.

This Northern California race would mark the start of a 2-week family vacation in mostly Southern Cal. We hit the beautiful and private Tree Haven campsite, NE of Yreka along the Klamath River, around dusk on Saturday. Hopes of a good night's sleep were dashed when our air mattress sprung a leak. Tried to fix it with some bike tire patches, but it didn't work out. Then out came the duct tape, and I crafted a huge solid patch which I thought for sure would hold - but the damn air just kept worming its way through. So a mostly sleepless and uncomfortable night - I think I had maybe an hour's solid sleep. Well at least I wasn't hung up about doing well in the race :)

Did virtually no warm-up before the race - trying to conserve energy - and got the helmet cam all wired up. We started lemans-style, and I loped along robotically to my bike, trying not to gyrate the camera too much. Stayed near the back as the riders surged ahead, deciding to keep a steady pace rather than initiate a go-for-broke start. After a few minutes, I realize I don't feel too bad, and start passing people here and there. On the long climb up, I keep waiting for some system malfunction, but it doesn't happen. I'm going along at what feels like 90-95% normal pace. But feel the effort exponentially increase everytime I do a small surge, so keep it steady. Do the awesome downhill, and start up lap #2. Still feeling pretty good - this is great ! - who'd have thunk it ? Am constantly switching the vidcam on/off, and frequently interviewing people as I ride beside them. In the last lap I yo-yo with this DeSalvo guy, who wastes me on the climbs, but I blast by him on the downhills when I catch him up. After the last downhill, there's a mile and a half of flat before the finish. He surges ahead here, while I decide to conserve energy, realizing I only have enough for probably a 30-sec to 1 minute attack at the finish. Coming into the roped off finish area, I see him just ahead, and go for broke. Less than 200 feet to go, and I blow by him on the inside and carry it to the line. I manage to finish just off the podium in 4th. Awesome, now let's get into vacation mode!

Race Report : Pickett's Charge

This is #2 in the local Bend racing scene - sure to bring out all the local semi-retired ex-pro uber-aerobic genetically mutated exercise freaks. Can't recall too much, since this happened over 2 weeks ago [my memory chips are faulty], so I'll be brief.

It's a great course with mucho single track, though very little elevation gain. It features a fun mostly uphill technical lava section, with lots of rock steps and lava chunk navigation, sure to irritate those who assume Bend trails are all smooth cruisers. A few log pyramids thrown in, and a great high speed sweeper section to finish off the lap. Each lap is 21 miles, and we had to do 2 of them.

Many feared another dust-storm, a la Chainbreaker, but the weather gods sprinkled showers down a bit every day leading up to the event, so people could leave the dust-masks behind.

For me it was a pretty uneventful race - I passed some poeple, some passed me, and I finished around the middle of the pack. Oh, I was abducted by aliens at one point for a quick experiment, but apparently they used a freeze-gun on all the other racers so the diversion didn't cost me.

Somewhere in the first lap I caught up to someone I recognized - old yellow-jersey, who smoked me at the line in the last race - and I chatted him up and reminded him of the fact, thinking hey I caught up to him, now I can pass and return the favour. But as if to punctuate his superiority, he promptly kicked it up a notch and disappeared from sight.

In the second lap I was going through the lava section again, making a nice clean run of it, and feeling pretty good. I glance behind, and see another racer I recognize not too far away - what !? I usually am way ahead of him, and he sucks in the technical stuff - what's he doing here ? ! Somebody's been practising :) Wondering if I've slowed down to some kind of girly-man pace, I try to up the speed, but there's not much energy available. But then I see another group ahead that I'm gaining on, and yeller-jersey is in there too. Hmm, maybe I not so slow? I get stuck in this group for a while, but slowly worm my way ahead. White jersey sucks onto my wheel, and I can't shake him. I ask him a coupla times to just go ahead, but he likes my pace and stays back. We yo-yo with Veloce-Felt dude, who blazes on the easy climbing stuff, but slows way down when it gets technical. We pass him, then he passes us, etc, etc. Finally he pulls a big gapper, and white jersey jumps ahead on the downhill to catch him. I'm alone for a while, and then catch up to white-jersey and we both pass Veloce-Felt. But on the last climb while we're gasping at the top, he shoots ahead and disappears. Only a couple of miles to go, with mostly a high-speed sweeper downhill, and I kick it into overdrive. Leave whitey behind, and pursue V-F. Start to see faint dust clouds, so I know I'm gaining. Finally catch up to him, and suck his wheel through some twisties. Not easy to pass, but take a chance through some rough stuff and get by him. Only half a mile to go. Have to increase my lead, or he'll catch me on the final stretch which is flat. But as I get there and take a look behind, no one around, so cruise to the line. Just over 3 hours, 9th/19. A decent run. Now gotta recover quick, as I'll be racing again in less than 24 hours.