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!"
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