End of the Year Address

Wow a lot of shit has happened, and I have been remiss in writing about it here. Another great mountain bike season has ended (sniff), with many epic rides and experiences. I'm not going to bother putting any of it down here - it will remain in the deep recesses of my mind - and maybe on my deathbed you will hear me babbling about some rock that pinched my tire and launched me over the bars, or the butterfly I was observing when I rammed into a tree. In any case, here's a few random observations :

Racing : I was thinking about getting hardcore about racing this year : increase training time, maybe hire a coach, etc. Since I was often only 5-10 minutes behind the fastest guys in a 2 hour+ race, I figured I could be contending for top spot with an increased training regimen. But sometime this year I decided this would be too much work and a waste of that precious resource called 'time', and that just assuming that I could be the fastest if I did all that extra crap was good enough. So after the initial spring/early summer races, I just rode for fun the rest of the year. And that's what I plan to do next year. Of course if my ass gets kicked frequently and hard, I will be rather pissed, and probably my race participation will dwindle. But now I feel like doing longer endurance races anyways, rather than the 2-2.5 hour typical XC race. Yeah, 100-milers might be fun. Maybe some multi-day stage races.

I had several more insightful observations, but can't remember any of them at this point. Anyways, biking season has been over for a while - time to talk about snow!

Genius

Sometimes I feel I have achieved a stroke of genius - but usually I have really only temporarily lifted the blinders of stupidity.

Lycra vs. Lava

And the winner is... Lava !

Ya gotta respect the lava. It is unyielding, spiky, dangerous stuff. I've heard many lava pain stories, involving cracked bones and shredded tendons. So as I was grinding up one of the lava field climbs, and the way through began narrowing, the fear of flesh-ripping should I lose momentum and tip over caused me to unclip a foot as I neared the top corner. On the other side, a short slope descending into much smoother stuff. So I pushed off, planning to clip back in after I'd rolled the last bit of lava chunks. And then without warning, my front wheel jammed into a depression between two rocks, and I began a slow but certain pivoting over that front wheel, powerless to stop it as one foot was still clipped in. All I could do was brace for impact, as my body arced over the front and slammed hard into the even harder surface.

Several intense points of pain as I untangled myself from the bike. Right knee gashed nicely on the outside - not too much blood, but a view of white tissue through the rent skin. Left hand throbbing, but only sprained. Right pinkie finger flaring in pain - possibly cracked (those things break easy), but still able to flex it. Hmm, only 15 minutes into the ride, what should I do ? All injuries appear to be superficial - the knee is most problematic, but pain is minimal as is the bleeding, and it seems biomechanically sound. So all I've got here is a sh!$#@!load of pain - so I can keep riding - it's just mind over matter, right ? So on I go. The left hand is the only thing really painful, which I don't get, since it seems to work OK. I stop and peel off the glove - OK there's the problem, a large flap of skin has separated from the palm. Doesn't look too bad - keep going.

Manage to fight through it and actually have a good time, though I'm more tentative on the technical sections which is not good. Finally after an hour or so, the knee starts throbbing. I have to get off the bike for numerous bridge crossings, and walking on it is very painful. Hmmm, maybe it is more than superficial ? Soon the pain is traveling up to my hip. Starting to get concerned now - maybe I've nicked a tendon or something. Finally after an hour and a half of this, I decide to turn back. Blah, blah, the pain gets worse and worse. Soon I'm mostly pedalling with one leg. Back at the car, down a couple of Ibuprofin [hmm, maybe should keep some of this stuff in my pack - what's that thing you're supposed to carry around - a Primary Helper Kit or something ?]. OK, let's drive to the clinic I guess, for some bodywork. It's an hour drive, and the vitamin-I has kicked in nicely. The clinic is empty and I get first-class service. The knee gets stitched up - after the doc spends a while extracting dirt and small rocks from the wound - let's add bandages to the Kit next time too. Finger is X-rayed and not broken. Palm is cleaned out (ouch), and taped up.

Pic one week later :


OK lessons learned :
1) This one I already knew, but unfortunately made exceptions to : don't one-foot it through possibly dangerous crap - just walk the bike onto level ground before remounting
2) Ibuprofin - a few of these in the pack would've been good for another 20 miles easy
3) Bandages. Ok pain you can take - a minor bloody wound isn't going to kill you. But inviting dirt and other crap into your body with the broken seal of an open wound is not good.

That's it. Only 1 day off. I was lucky, or unlucky as it were.

Rip9 Test Ride

Whenever I ride my 29'er (DosNiner soft-tail), I am amazed at how it surgically carves turns at high speed, and how easily it gets up chunky climbs with the big wheels. But after a 50 mile ride on it, my butt is sore for a few days.
When I get on me 5+5 full suspension rig, my body is thankful for the extra cush, but the handling is twitchier, and at 32lbs vs 25lbs on the other bike, it takes more energy to crank it up the hills.

So it would seem that a full suspension 29'er might be the best of both worlds, and it was with great anticipation that I borrowed the shop demo Niner Rip9 for a day.



Picked it up the day before, and got in a quick checkout ride around a familiar loop. The first thing I noticed was that it took a bit more energy to drive this thing up the small climbs than my DosNiner - I was always dropping to the granny ring on stuff that I middle-ringed on the other bike. I was sure that the gearing must be different, but a tooth-count when I got back home showed it be the same as my other 29'er. The other thing I noticed was it did climb well over rough-terrain - and in some cases better than the 26'er (as does my other 29'er). It was also nimble on tight switchbacks.


I tweaked the geometry a bit, and next day headed up to Oakridge to meet CWS for a ride up Middle Fork Willamette trail. I'd heard from someone that this was a great trail - well it was nice meandering river trail, but nothing too exciting. The Rip9 handled great around the many tight-steering corners. But again had the sensation that this bike takes more energy to push along the flats and climbs. Descending, it was great. So a mixed bag. And that's about it for the review as it (and you all) have grown tiresome.

Last race / cross

I guess I should fill in some words here ! Way back on Sep 9th or so was the last race I did. I hadn't raced since early July, and was having a blast just riding for fun, with the occasional lunch-hour training sessions thrown in, such as the Awbrey Butte Climbing Star : 5 different steep climbs up that Butte, 6-8 minutes long. I wasn't going to do the race, but then I was curious how it would feel, since I hadn't trained nearly as hard as last year. So went up to Ski Bowl, where the familiar race trails are starting to get boring. But this time they added a nice little twist : every lap (and there were 3 of them), near the end you got routed down a 'downhill' trail, with big rock drops and other treacherous features. This was tough on the soft-tail, and I think this was the first race where I consistently bottomed out my fork. The 3 laps were all a bit different, so race turned out fun.

There were 11 in the 40+ Expert class, which was great. 2 new guys, and 2 'fast' guys, so I figured 3rd was possible. However 1 of the new guys turned out to be faster than the 'fast' guys, turning in a time over 10 minutes faster than the other regular fastest dude. And the other new 1 was not too far behind. So I came in a respectable 5th.


Then I did a couple of cross races in dusty Bend. Cyclocross is fun, except for the fact that you have to get off your bike and run over objstacles, and you do lap after lap of the same course. Hmm, but that's the whole point of the sport - oh well I guess I'm not too into it. It's a good workout though, certainly better than running the treadmill in the gym. The first race I did pretty well. The second race I couldn't get motivated what with the repetitiveness of it all, and I faired poorly. The 3rd one I did lap-counting volunteer - part of the bike shop sponsorship requirement. And there was 1 more which I just didn't bother about. A lot of poeople are nuts about it here, and will travel 3-4 hours to get to a race where they compete for 45 minutes. Not me - I'd rather get my money's worth with a 3 hour mountain bike race. But there is a cool social scene I hear - beer gardens and live music.

Log Ride

North Umpqua Trail Epic

For many moons I'd been hearing little tidbits here and there about the North Umpqua Trail, a rather long trail that winded along a river in South Western Oregon. Something like the Mackenzie River Trail, but supposedly bigger and better. Lots of tough sections, and great scenery, etc. Ok I guess it should be investigated. After last weekend's successful uber-long ride, I reckoned that the 80 mile Umpqua trail would go down well for a 2 day weekend ride. I bought a map, did a little research, and it seemed like a good idea to camp around the middle of the trail, then the first day do an out-and-back in the uphill direction (around 35 miles 1-way, but maybe turn around after 25 miles or so), then the second day do a 45-mile shuttle ride in the downhill direction. I proposed this to the Sorenson Gang, and they readily accepted.



Friday night we met up at Toketee Lake campground, which at first seemed like a nice spot : campsites about half-full, lots of families and miscellaneous travellers, and only $7 a night. Well that first night sucked, as there was 1 group of campers who kept us up all night. Everything seemed fine at 11 pm when we hit the sack, but I was awaked shortly before 1 am by the sound of loud trucks unloading crap, the chopping of wood, and loud talking. Ok, some late arrivals, no big deal, and an hour later the truck departed and it was relatively quiet. But then an hour later, back it comes, more wood unloading and chopping and noises, and this went on all fucking night. Now, it wasn't the loud music, screaming yahoos type of noise that would make you yell "Shut the fuck up !", it was just a continuous stream of minor noises that prevented restful sleep.



The next morning, Chris surmised that it must be meth-heads who couldn't sleep, and just kept their fire methodically burning all night while what little brains they had were bouncing around inside their heads unable to sleep. But later we noticed that it was just a conglomeration of fishermen, kids, etc. Whatever. But obviously ignorant oblivious people who had no clue how their actions were affecting others. We also concluded that saying anything to them would be useless, as the type of person who would commit such unneighbourly transgressions would be incapable or unwilling to admit it or ammend their actions.



But hey 1 night of no sleep is never a problem, and off we went at 9am on the day's adventure. We found the trailhead across the bridge at one end of the campsite, and in no time were swooping up and down a buff trail along the river, with massive old growth. It was a non-stop rollercoaster, with short steep climbs, and awesome high-speed descents. Many pictures were taken of giant trees, until I guess we finally got used to them. However one 7-foot diameter specimen stopped us in our tracks for more tree-hugging pix. We were on the Hot Springs segment of the trail, which ended at a campsite with another trail that I guess led to some hot springs - go figure. And then we commenced the Dread And Terror section, so named by early explorers who found the river and its steep thickly forested banks so impenetrable, they were like terrified and dreaded it. This was a long 13-mile section, that traversed high up the bank of the river, and passed through many different vegetation zones. There were also a bunch of wet sections here, due to streams emptying down the slope to the river. Some of the climbs were long and steep, but with rewarding downhills.




Finally arrived at Lemolo Lake, which was a good turning around point. We circumnavigated the lake, and had lunch at a camping area which bordered a foul algae-infused section of the lake, with signs proclaiming the water as 'unsafe'. Hmm, not what you'd expect at a high-altitude lake in the middle of nowhere. But these algae blooms are not uncommon in some of the shallower lakes, and appear to be naturally caused. We had almost run out of water at this point, but waited until we saw a clean stream emptying into the lake before we refilled.





At this point, we could have returned the way we came, but the map showed what looked like a cool trail that followed the ridge way above the Southern edge of the river, so we opted for that. Found the faint trailhead out of the corner of my eye after several wrong turns, and it looked like it hadn't seen any use for years. Followed it for a bit, with the aid of some pink ribbons, but eventually it became even fainter, and we abandoned. Now it appeared too long to go back the way we had come via the lake, so we flew down a gravel road for 5 miles or so. Then we checked out the opposite end starting point for the trail we had abandoned, and it was in much better condition on that side, but left it to explore some other day. Dropped back into the Hot Springs section back to the campsite, and finished the day with another great rollercoaster ride.



Day 1 total : 8.25 hours, 4380 vert ft, 41.8 miles. What a blast ! Now for some beer and grub, but first...



Well we had decided before we got back to the campsite, that rather than risk another sleepless night, we would change sites, or maybe even abandon the campground, and find some other place to camp away from the ignorant obnoxious masses. And as if to affirm our decision, our arrival back at the campground was punctuated with the sound of loud music and screams, emanating from several different locations. Trucks full of rednecks drinking beer patrolled the campground, many of them already shitfaced at this point - it seemed like it would be a freaking warzone here tonight, and we immediately decided plan B - get the hell out of Dodge - was the only option. We'd passed one area on our ride back - Thorn Prairie - which while sounding uncomfortable, had seemed like a great out of the way place to camp. Looking around at the numerous vacant sites, it appeared many others had come to a similar conclusion. Did I mention there was also a faint electronic hum that pervaded the entire camping area ? Emanating from some nearby power station no doubt. On out trek up the riverbank we had heard it at an amplified level in some spots.



Within an hour we had packed up and made our exit, and drove up FS 3401. I noticed a sign to Oakridge along the way - possible shortcut ? And then we passed the source of the electronic hum, coming from some maintenance building - and right beside it, several houses - hmm I wouldn't want to see what mutated specimens lived there :) Just a few miles into our escape journey, we crossed a bridge, and I observed what seemed to be like a perfect campsite along the river. We checked it out, and it seemed like Nirvana : nice rushing river sound, huge open space to pitch tents, and firepit with grill. The only drawback was it was a bit close to the road, but not exactly a high traffic area I would think, so we parked it and setup. Finally got to the beer and chow, and it went down very nicely in the new surroundings. There was a bit more traffic than expected on the road, and one redneck-mobile with screaming yahoos, but other than that quiet after 10 pm, and we all had a good night's sleep.




Day 2 was to be the easier day : a predominately downhill 45 mile ride along the river westward. We dumped a car down at the bottom at Swiftwater Park. The 1-way drive time was 45 minutes, and as we drove back to the start point, the enormity of the journey we were soon to embark on hit us with full force. The river was in an immense canyon most of the way, and often you could see the trail undulating along the edge of the steep bank - sometimes down by the water level, other times hundreds of feet up the wall. Then it would disappear as the wall became too sheer, taking some other route through the surrounding mountains before reappearing again. When I first pictured the Umpqua Trail, I had imagined a meandering little river with a trail running alongside it - sure it would go up and down a bit, but never more than 50-100 feet from the river. But the reality is that this trail is Seriously Big. It's like seeing the Rockies for the first time, when all you've previously known are low rolling hills.

With all the shuttling, and packing up camp, we only get started shortly after 11 am. We are figuring on an 8-hour ride, which should leave us about an hour of daylight. I pack a headlamp just in case.

The first section we tackle right out of the campground is Deer Leap, which starts with a long steep climb, just the thing to wake you up and realize that there might actually be some work involved in this 'downhill' ride. After much grunting up and down, high above the river and around deep ravine stream crossings, we arrive at what appears to be the top of the climb for now, and are greeted with an amazing view of the river canyon and surrounding mountains. The terrain here is very dry and desert-like with the Southern exposure. We start the descent, and soon encounter a common denizen of hot dryish climes : a rattlesnake ! I must have disturbed it as I went by, and hear a commotion behind, with the words "Snake!" being clearly discernable. Supposedly the rattler took a strike at Walt as he went by, and Chris, following close behind, ran over the snake. We get off our bikes and head back up the trail to find the reptile - not hard to do, since the rattle could be heard for quite a distance. He was coiled up a few feet off the trail, ready to strike again. He seemed OK, and we took a few pix and were off.

What followed was probably one of my top 5 downhills of all time - as someone else put it "zippy, woo-hoo kind of stuff". I could add a bunch of adjectives, but you probably get the point. After a while, hit a road, and a closed sign on the continuation of the trail on the other side. I'd heard about this closure, some kind of dam work, so down to the highway for 5 miles of blacktop - at least it was mostly downhill.


Then over a bridge to the South side of the river. At this point we still had 5 sections and 34 miles to go. The next few segments sported a variety of terrain and scenery. Flat smooth rollercoaster sections, technical rock gardens, steep exposed areas, lush green stuff, and everywhere Big Trees. I've never seen so much old growth on a trail in my life. Oh, and also I should mention - no people ! If you crave solitude, this is your place. And if you're hoping to bum a tube off another biker - forget it - we saw 3 other bikers in 2 days, and one of them wasn't even on the trail.


We got to enjoy the Calf Segment, reopened this year after 3 years off the map due to fire damage - lots of brand new bridges, and great charred landscape vistas.


The afternoon wore on, and still we were far from our destination. The endless climbs of small and large proportions were starting to take their toll, and I admitted to being a bit tired. Still enjoying the awesome trail, but eager to be done as well. With 20 miles to go, we had our first 'mechanical', with Spence flatting out - he was running Stans tubeless, with a flyweight tire that was barely able to plug up after a protracted period of Stans'ing (rotating the tire around so the goop plugs the hole, pumping up again, etc.). Finally got going again, and made it through the second to last section, a fairly flat one that skirted the river edge. One especially notable bit was a hand-built rock crib section that flared the trail out over the river.


And now we arrived at the start of the Tioga section, the final link in the chain, but described as the most physically demanding section : 16 miles long, with 2 major climbs. We got freaked out looking at the numbers on the trail map : supposedly 3500 vf of climbing in this section. Had to be a misprint, right ? But looking at what we'd already been through, it seemed possible. I made a note of our elevation gain so far - 2940 vf - to see if this crazy number was right. Right at the start, Spence flatted again, and after farting around for 15 minutes trying to plug it without success, we decided to slap a tube in there. Guess what, 4 bikers, 8 tires, and only 1 spare tube ! I handed over my tube, with the caveat that I wanted it back if I needed it. But as soon as I saw it get all slimed with Stans, I knew if we punctured that baby, none of my quick patches would ever stay on.


On the road again, and it was starting to get a bit dark in the deeply forested parts. Finally after 8 miles in, we hit the famous Bob's switchbacks - our last big climb, and then downhill after that to the end. If we were going to get some vert, it would be here. I started first up the winding trail. The switchbacks were well engineered and I was cleaning them. Some of the bits in between were ridiculously steep, but I was determined not to get off the bike. It was amazing, that after 2 long days on the bike, I still felt incredible power, and was making it up stuff that would have given me a hard time after a few days rest. Got to a steepish rocky traverse, and lost it when a boulder appeared in the middle of the trail. Walked for a bit, then back on, and made it up the last few switchies to the top. Behind me I heard a shout from Spence, but didn't want to disturb my rythm and look back. Well, I think I blew my wad on that last climb, and was starting to feel woozy. So chow down on yet more sticky power blocks and gels, and guzzle more stream water that hopefully wouldn't leave me sick in bed for a week. Spence shows up and I see that the sole of his shoe is clipped into his pedal, but the rest of it is no longer attached - complete separation - not a bad time for this to happen I guess, with 5 miles to go and mostly downhill.




The rest of the crew arrives at the top, and it's clear sailing through the rest of the trail. It gets wider and wider as we get closer to the end, finally it's gravelled, then paved, and we're done. Cross the bridge and back to the car, where near-beers are guzzled and 'we did it' pix are taken.


The totals for day #2 : 8.5 hours, 43.5 miles, 4839 vf.

Is that enough riding for a while ? Well, the conensus was that now we should try to do the whole trail in 1 day : 80 miles, ~9000 vf, probably 14 hours of riding... yeah that's doable.

Mosquito Power at Waldo Lake

The day started with no power, as my car refused to start - the battery decided to die that day it would seem. At 7:30 a.m on a Saturday it was hard to find anybody around in the neighborhood to give me a jump start. So I pushed the car over to the corner intersection, hoping to do one of them starts where you coast down a hill and then jam it into gear and kick the engine to life, but that utterly failed. However this landed me directly in front of my neighbour Pat, who had his garage door open and was puttering around inside. He came over with a remote battery starter and got me going. Then drove way faster than usual, hoping to still make the 9 a.m. meeting time at Willamette Pass with the Sorenson clan. And I actually got there with 5 min to spare. There was some downhill race going on the next day, and a few racers of that ilk were messing around with their massive heavy bikes, clad in heavy armor, ready to do some practice runs. In the mean time, I pulled on my bright yellow team spandex attire, and tried to look tough.



The Sorenson's showed up, and presently we set forth on our expedition - a long ride that Walt had devised, which had us climbing up to the back of the ski mountain, descending via Maiden Peak, then climbing up the Gold Bridge trail to Waldo Lake. Then circumnavigating the lake, whereupon we would climb up the Fuji Mountain Trail, and then enjoy an awesome mega-vert descent.



We had lunch at Waldo Lake, and the mosquitoes were relatively tame. There are many legends of brave souls driven from the Lake by hungry hordes of the bloodsuckers, but it appeared that time had passed for this year. We continued around the Lake and at the opposite end decided to try a shortcut that would shave an hour or so off our journey - this seemed prudent, seeing as how we were at the 5 hour point or so. The trail was 'No Bikes' (hiking only), so we 'carried' or 'walked' our bikes, ever watchful for concealed Park Rangers who might jump out from the trees and write us $200 tickets for violating the rules. The mosquitoe count multiplied rapidly the further we got from the lake, and much swearing and swatting ensued. Soon the steep terrain forced us to actually really walk our bikes, and we were descended on by more and more of the blood-sucking pests. Rational thinking was impossible, and angry swatting the order of the day. After much anguish we arrived at the intersection of the bike trail we were hoping to intercept, but it appeared that the map failed us, and we became hopelessly confused, especially after the next couple of intersections which did not appear as they were on the map. Of course it could be that the goddam bugs prevented our brains from accurately analyzing the data at hand.



At last we seemed to have found our way up to the Mt Fuji Trail, and thereafter were greeted with steep climbs of immense proportions. Finally at the top, we now concluded we had gone the wrong way, and had to backtrack down all that hard-fought but useless elevation. Got on a high speed fun descent that we were 90% sure was right, and finally made it back out to familiar territory. The mosquito bites were ubiquitous and itchy, and several close-up photos were taken.

So what is 'mosquito power' ? Well it's the discovery of untapped reserves of power, when you're grinding up a steep hill in your granny gear, and you're totally spent and want to get off and push, but the knowledge that once you're walking your speed will be decreased such that the hordes of mosquitoes will start devouring you carnivorously at a much higher rate than they already are, so somehow you just stay on the bike and make the climb.

Back at our starting point, a small city has erupted, as masses of downhill racers have accumulated in the parking lot, and pitched their tents in the adjoining wooded areas. Heavy metal music can be heard eminating from several sources, and alcoholic beverages are being hoisted with abandon. Wow what a different world.

What a day - 7.5 hours, 50 miles, 5600 vf of climbing, and 20000 bites.

King of the Mountain

My 9th race in 10 weeks, with this one (Return on the Jedi) being probably my favorite : point-to-point, tons of climbing (4600 vf last year), steep tricky technical descents, and plenty of smooth high-speed single-track railing downhill through old growth.

It's a 4-hour drive towards the coast, but with a great campsite at the race start area, 13 miles up a remote single-lane paved winding road, it's a good candidate for a weekend road trip. Convinced the family to come along, with my 6-year old daughter keen to enjoy her first 'kid's race' - usually a very easy 5 to 10 minute stroll around flat dirt roads, but being only a couple months out of training wheels, could be tough for her.

Arrived there early afternoon Saturday, with plenty of great campspots to choose from. And the camping is free this year - no campsite host, very few services - all part of the downsizing/decomissioning of Forest services all over Oregon (man, they need a new government soon...).

Preride the last section of the course with ChrisS and his sons - the final 1300 ft climb up from the lowest point, and then the high speed Jedi section - seems easy when you're fresh, but that climb pretty much finishes everybody off at the end of the race. I then went back to campsite fun with the family / beer-drinking, while Chris and a few other people rode the prologue loop. Heard some story about a 50-foot stream crossing through 1-2 feet of water - hmm probably an exaggeration. Seemed like they were planning on making the course easier this year anyways (which I wasn't too happy with), as the website said they took out the long hot climb in the sun and replaced it with a shorter one in the shade.

But at the start line at 9am the next day, we got the drill about several big stream crossings - all I got was "Stay to the left!", or else you might find yourself floundering in a few feet of water. Another disappointing turnout, with less than 20 pros and experts. Didn't see anybody from the 'Group of 6' from last week that finished in front of me. But within a few minutes after starting, about 10 of the group had opened a huge gap on me and were out of sight. Caught and passed 1 after 10 minutes or so, but then was alone in the initial loop, with no chasers. Came up on the first big stream crossing, and man they weren't kidding - 50 feet of fast moving water to cross, and it looked deep. Of course this was where the photographer was positioned, hoping for good aqua-carnage. I quickly decided ramming speed was the best option - as opposed to low-gear slow speed line picking - and jammed it right down the middle (staying left didn't look so good), and I made it across unscathed. A few more tamer crossings, and after half an hour was back at the start area, where the climbing fun would begin. Had caught up to SpencerS, and we took turns leading up the climb, which was along an old double-track with a great canopy above it. Excellent temps here in the shade - I noted 58F at one point, much better than the 105F climbing we had in the sun last year (though this year wasn't nearly as hot).

Finally at the top after 1.5 hours, and still no one in sight ahead. Found it hard to believe that the other experts were that much faster (found out later it was mostly Pros in that group). Down some dirt roads, and then the last loose single track climb to the real top of the mountain, whereupon the 2600 vf descent awaits. It starts off with steep rocky ledges, where your seat is rammed into your chest for a long while. Finally passed someone here who was walking his bike down (heard later he injured himself and DNF'd). Then more fun in the trees, out onto the hillside for more rocky switchbacks, then insanely fast single-tracking all the way down to the low-point. Hadn't seen SpencerS since the top, but he caught up to me at the bottom, and we again led up the climb together. Over 2 hours into the race, and now facing the last big daunting climb. Last year was pushing my bike on the steepest spots, walking through poison oak and not giving a shit, feeling like crap. But today feel good and clean the entire climb. Spence has disappeared from sight, and I push hard, knowing there's a good chance he'll catch up. But cross the finish line at 3:13, and no one else shows up for a while. I win my category for the 2nd year in a row - though only 3 were in it. Still, get 2nd Expert overall.

The overall conclusion among the racers is that this is a real mountain biking course - with the most technical terrain and the most climbing. With over 5200 vf and 30+ miles, yep it's probably the toughest. Hmm, I'll have to show them what it's like in B.C. :)

Oakridge Series Finale

It's the last race of the 6-race series. Best 4 results count, and I was sitting precariously in third place. Now there's at least half-a-dozen racers in my Expert 40+ class that are a level beyond me in fitness, and usually finish 10-15 minutes faster in a 2.5 hour race. And they all showed up today ! The organizer even recognized this showdown, and put them all in the front starting line so they could duke it out. Well hopefully another half-dozen slower riders showed up so I can finish mid-pack.

The weather is nicely temperate : low 60's, much better than the 100F we suffered through last year. The expert course is basically 2 laps. Start on some double track, then onto winding flat single track, then up the Wall, a steep fire road climb that usually separates the men from the boys. The first time up, go all the way to the top of the mountain, and enjoy a fast but buttery smooth old-growth descent. Then down some tarmac and miscellaneous trails, and start the 2nd lap. But this time don't have to climb as high up the Wall, and get to take another fun steep winder down. The Sports and Pros do this fun little techy grinder section on the side of the river before they do the wall. This is my kind of trail - rooty, rocky, and slippery - I can make some ground here... But today have to stick to the mostly smooth stuff.

Well the race was relatively boring, so I'll be brief. The most exciting thing was this innocent looking puddle that ended throwing up a buttload of mud (with a cement-like consistency that was very difficult to remove later). With the low temps I didn't get that tomato-head phenomenon I experienced last year, and finished the race feeling pretty fresh. In fact, could easily have done another lap - so conserved a bit too much I guess. Most of the 'Group of 6' finished in a clump about 7-10 minutes ahead of me. But #6 was only 30 seconds ahead. Hmm, I wonder what it would take to get 10 minutes faster in a 2.25 hour race, and win against this group. Lez see that's an improvement of 7.5% - seems like a lotta work. Spending $ would help! From some tests I did last year, 5 lbs of extra weight costs you about 5 minutes in a 2.5 hour race with a normal amount of climbing. So if spent like 10 grand on an uber light bike that would buy me a few minutes :) (in fact I overheard that #6 guy talking about his bike a few races ago - some 21.5 lb full suspension model he imported from Europe - we're talking 5 grand plus for that). But what's the weight of a full water bottle ? A lot of these guys only carry 1 per lap, and get a hand-off. Anyways, I don't care that much... only 1 more race to go and then can get back to slacking off and riding for fun.

Global Cooling Race

It's the first race of the year up at SkiBowl - on the flanks of Mt Hood - with its own special microclimate. Most other parts of the world are experiencing global warming - but not here. Only 500 feet higher in elevation then Bend, but 10 times as cold. The forecast isn't great - showers in the morning and a high of only 58F. There's a weather web cam up at the pass near the race, and at 8am it's showing 38F and the road is glistening wet from showers. As usual in the morning, I am not too disposed to driving to a race when the weather is questionable, so this seems like a good excuse to skip it. I can go for a ride around here in the balmy sunshine instead. But I check a little later, and can see bright sun reflecting off the road - OK I'll go, might not be too bad.

On the road, and sure enough it's sunny just about everywhere. I can even see the mountain, so should be clear there. But near the end of the 2 hour drive, as gain elevation near the summit, I am plunged into the soup of thick cloud cover, and it is raining. The thermometer on the car shows 4C - so hasn't changed at all since that 38F reading a few hours ago - and it's raining on top of that. I sign it, and putter around the inside of the van, taking my time layering up. Not looking forward to a cold wet race at all. I do a bare minimum 10-minute warm-up, and get into the start chute with the unsurprisingly small crowd. Only about 30 Pros and Experts. The Pros and young Experts take off first, then the 40+ crowd a minute later, with the single-speeders and women.

The trails are actually nice and tacky, as there had been no rain prior to today. The rain lets up shortly, and after 10 minutes I start pushing ahead to the front. Only 2 are ahead of me - one I know that usually finishes a good 10 minutes in front, and another who has been pretty close in time to me, and has beaten me before this year. I slide by him, calling out a greeting - but he barely emits a grunt. This guy must probably hate me I guess - in the last race I followed him for an hour, and then passed him decisively 15 minutes before the finish. I keep the #1 guy in sight for the first lap, but never see him again after that. Ok, gotta hold down the #2 spot. Second lap, up the steep Horse Trail climb, which is usually sandy and loose, but tacky and grippy today. No one in sight behind. The top of the course is now shrouded in fog, with visibility maybe 50 feet. I might easily get lost if I didn't know the course (in fact I did get lost last year in perfect conditions).

I'm finding it hard to push, as there's no one in sight to chase, and no one chasing me. The occasional Pro sneaks up behind and passes, as they are doing longer laps. I keep thinking they're someone in my class, but nope haven't seen anyone in that crowd for a while now. Here's me struggling to keep pace with the Pro eventual winner as he passes me :


I do the foggy, rocky twisting downhill run for the third and final time - and have a nice little crash, as my hands are starting to cramp in the cold. But no one behind to take advantage, and cross the finish line in under 2.5 hours - only 4.5 minutes behind the first place. Well I needn't have worried about getting caught, 3rd place comes in almost 18 minutes later.

Now the temperature is real balmy - why it's almost 6C ! It's hard to enjoy the cold Pilsener what with all the shivering standing around afterwards. But the racing in the cold was actually quite pleasant - I'll have to try to remember that the next time I start to whine about crappy weather conditions going into a race.

Pickett's Charge Sufferfest

Another hot dry and dusty Bend race. It poured for a while the night before, but the bone-dry terrain just sucked it up and spit out more dust-balls. The temp barely made 90F, but with the additional effect of air-borne particles clogging up the air passages, it felt like worse or something.

Not much elevation gain in the 20-mile loop that we had to do twice, but on the first little hill I was gasping and wheezing and watching my heart-rate climb into zones I'd never seen before. Just a low point in the cycle I guess. A few days before I'd been doing Pilot Butte hill repeats, and slapping myself on the back for feeling so awesome. But now, not so good, and somewhat nauseous, which I never get.

I pushed as hard as I could on the flats, and just tried to survive the little grunt-ups. There was some amusement from the other racers, as the heat appeared to be generating a high percentage of cranky people. I was 2nd in a group of 3 as we approached a somewhat tricky-looking but actually quite easy diagonally oriented log pile. I cranked it a bit to get some momentum going over it, when the guy in front of me got stuck or panicked and jammed on his brakes at the top of the pile, and I ram into his bike. Whatever, that's racing, right ? But this guy lets forth with a verbal spew of profanity at my transgression - like yeah I get my kicks trying to play bumper-bikes. I just ignore him, but not his jersey, which proudly proclaims him as sponsored by the bike shop who runs the race - hmm that's not good advertising. We'll call him ShadySide. The guy behind me now starts muttering at me in my defense : "I knew that was going to happen, c'mon, show him by kicking his ass in the race. Take him, let's get him !" Well he passes him eventually, but I have absolutely no kick, and plod along with the now growing line of racers. However 15 minutes later he does seem to be waning, and I get by him, which is somewhat satisfying.



Start the 2nd lap, which is no less dusty or hot. I am following 2 other racers, and figure out that they are in my class. They drift into the distance occasionally, but I always reel them in, though I am actually doing no reeling whatsoever and just trying to survive. Hmm, maybe they are a bit tired too ? DaveM appears behind me, also in my class. I ask him how he's feeling - "Great" he says. So I explain how I'm feeling like crap, and he should really pass me and kick the butt of those 2 other guys in our class ahead. He follows me for a while, then bursts ahead and gets by the other 2 quickly. Then I notice #2 ahead overtakes #1 - aha someone is weakening. I feel a stirring, and hmm what do you know, I appear to be getting my first wind, after almost 2.5 hours of racing. I get close behind weakening "Knock-knees", and as soon as I see an opening, I scooch off to the right of the trail into small underbrush, and try to pass. But the trail starts veering left, so looks like I have to abort. But wait, I can see the trail veering back right again, so I employ a little 'trail-cut' manoeuvre and cross through to the trail and get ahead. And what do I hear but a bunch of bitching from this guy about how what I did was not cool and I should only do 'proper' passing on the trail. Whatever buddy, I don't think this 40-mile race is going to be decided by a few feet, and what are you pissed that I circumvented your blocking manouever ? Yeah, so this guy is also sponsored by a local shop - hmm when you're wearing the colors I think you need to present a somewhat sunny disposition... of course now they think WebCyclery riders like to ram other racers and cut trails ! :)

I go off in pursuit of SkinSuit - you don't see many mountain bikers wearing these, and I guess it is more satisfying to pass a guy whose attire proclaims "I am so cool and fast they gave me this awesome looking skin-suit!" - and he's not too far ahead. I am starting to feel great and I really don't understand it. Maybe cuz the last half of the lap is mostly on a slight downhill. I catch up to SkinSuit on a dirt road, and squeeze past him just before the single-track begins, yelling "On your right!", as I get there half a wheel before him. Except, that wasn't really the start of the singletrack, just more doubletrack. Oops - man these glasses are dusty, I can't see a thing!:)

Next I see if I can chase down DaveM, and finally I see his dust cloud way ahead, and I'm gaining. 10 minutes later the gap is down to 10 seconds, and it's looking good for a showdown sprint to the finish. But then I come around a corner a bit too hot, the front wheel loses grip, and in a fraction of a second I am slammed down viciously onto the hardpack trail. Stunned at the suddenness and ferocity of this mishap, and surprised by the blood-flecked pain, I scramble to get back in the saddle as fast as possible, not knowing how far back SkinSuit and KnockKnees are. But my muscles are doing weird spasmodic jerking and cramping, and it takes a while to get back up to my previous velocity. Only a few minutes to go, and looks like I blew my chance to catch up. It's close, but at the end I'm 12 seconds short.

I get off my bike, and immediately both legs lock up - all I can do is stand there frozen, willing my muscles to relax, but they obstinately refuse. I ran out of fluids about 10 minutes ago, and I desperately need to get to the water station, which is only 50 feet away. After several minutes of stiff legged shuffling, during which I contemplate just throwing the bike down and lying in the dirt, I manage to get there, using the bike as a crutch.

Well overall an interesting race. Usually the 'feeling like crap' part happens near the end when you're wasted, but I got it reversed this time.

How some deal with the dust :

On the Fence

"We're last!" shouted JustinT, as he went by. I glanced behind me - sure enough, there wasn't a rider in sight. What he really meant was "You're last!" - not a great start to the Falls City Firecracker race, a race where I usually do pretty well. Two years ago won my first race here in Sport, and last year got onto the podium in Expert class.

Today just wasn't feeling motivated - had been on the fence about coming to this race the whole previous week. It's a 3.5 hour drive, meaning a full day's commitment, and I had a shitload of backlogged chores and other stuff I've been trying to do and can't find the time for. So thought I'd just skip it. But then I already paid the entry fee - OK I'll go. But if it's just the $, then driving down there will probably cost me $50 - OK skip it. Then there was the weather forecast - not good, with rain expected the day before and day of. And when they say rain on the Coast, it usually means it will be pissing down, not the sporadic showers you get around Bend. So yeah, that seems like a good reason to not go. But wait, maybe then a lot of people won't go, so if I show up I'll have a better chance of podium'ing. So on it went... somehow I found myself in my car driving over there Sunday morning, looking for any reason to turn back. Hit snow in the pass, then rain on the other side. Stopped for a leak, and the tempation to U-turn almost overcame me, but then I figured what the hell I'm 3/4 of the way there. How about I just keep going, and if the overall experience sucks, then I won't do it again.

So as the race started in a light rain, I was totally unmovitated to be there, and didn't give a crap about being last. But went up the initial long climb as best I could, and soon was passing people. Ten minutes in, all self-absorbed crybaby talk was gone, and I was determined to do well. There was a new downhill section this year, with plenty of loose slippery sections, and crashes were plentiful. I took good advantage of these, and was having a pretty good time. Starting the 2nd lap of 5, I heard someone yell 'Go Romasco!', the name of someone who had beaten me by a bike length a couple of races ago. Man, if I beat anybody today, it has to be that guy ! So now had another reason not to slack off. One pesty orange jersey had been shadowing me for a few laps, and on the climb on lap #4 he made his move and passed me. This did not bother me at all, and I stayed close on his tail. On lap#5 climb, he seemed to wilt, and I returned the favour. Now just have to rail the descent and hold him off on the last climb. Yep OK, and I finish up with absolutely no cramping - probaby because it was 84F last year, and only 48F this year. Grab the last podium spot, and was in the top half of the young punks 19-39 Expert class. So ended up being worth it after all.

Chainbreaker

Race.
Last year a dust storm, but got a bit of rain day before this year, so was great conditions.
The usual tough Bend crowd.
I managed to squeak into the top half finishers in my class.
2 laps for us. Last year 3, but too many finishers came in over 3.5 hours in Expert 40+, so there were complaints, so they reduced us to 2 this year. But there were lots of complaints over that ! I checked times from last year - just as many slower finishers in the Expert 19-39 as Expert 40+, so no excuse. I didn't care - not the most exciting course, so 2 laps enough. First lap I was 30s faster than last year, and 2nd over 2m faster, but didn't have to conserve for last lap, so probably about the same. Finishing in around 2 hours almost seemed like a sprint.

Video : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0I_OSk_sQ6o

Ashland Spring Thaw

Once again, the race that many people have negative comments about, but then show up in droves for. This year it was the designated "State Championship Race", so you get extra points, and bragging points - this helped drive the record attendance. Last year in my report, I pooh-pooh'd those who said the race is won or lost on the extended flat fire-road middle section, which you're on for 40-45 minutes. This is after a gruelling 3000 ft climb. This year they ran the course in reverse direction, so the climbing grade was a little easier. The bonus was the awesome 3000 ft descent on rolling switch-backing singletrack - the same course used for the downhill race (which you could probably win on a hard-tail btw). Anyways, I now officially eat my words about the flat section, as I was a victim of the 'all-alone' factor. More on that later.

Due to the gas price crisis, I was forced to be sociable and share a ride down to the race. Hooked up with TimJ, another WebCyclery rider, who had a Google map of a new shortcut to Ashland, and an address of a floor of somebody's house to stay in. We didn't read the map until too late, and missed the first half of the shortcut, but found the other half, descending down this crazy steep switchbacking road into Ashland, which might be fun to ride up on a bike...or not. Found the house easily - a 1 bedroom microplot - and saw the living room had been staked out already by several sleeping bags and piles of gear. So we're not the only ones crashing here... Yep, 5 in total - but hey, more convenient than a campsite.

The rest of the crew returns, and everybody is involved in getting ready for the next day - wolfing down carb-meals, tinkering on equipment, etc. Some are stretching, munching on granola. I crack open a beer and get dirty looks - "What, you're drinking beer the night before the race?". Oh shit, now I'll get kicked off the team for drinking and showing up at the race all hungover. That Marc, no he's not serious - he's making us look bad - tear up his contract. Maybe he can join the Guinness team.

I grab a sleeping area outside the kitchen where the washer and dryer would be, and try to get to sleep - difficult due to the bedspins from that one beer.

The first of is up at 5:30 am, and we get to the race early enough to grab some of the few all-day parking spots. I do my warmup, and am feeling rather crappy - not unexpected, as have spent 3 of the last 5 days between races doing hard intervals. So cut short the warmup. The race starts promptly at 9am, and spend the next 45 minutes or so chugging up fire roads and single track. Am feeling not too bad, and passing more than I am passed. Arrive at the top with another rider, and start pairing up for the long flat traverse. Another rider catches up, and the 3 of us move along for a few minutes. Then the pace is upped, and I"m having trouble hanging off the back. Feeling like it's a bit fast for me, I let them go, and decide to wait for the next paceline to come by. Well guess what, 40 minutes go by and not a single group has come up from behind. I'm getting quite shagged, and finally, a few minutes before the downhill starts, a couple guys go by - they are actually in my class, and people I normally finish well in front of. I latch onto the back, and amazed how it seems with only 50% of my previous effort, I can float along behind them. The singletrack starts - one lets me by, and follow the other guy for a while. He's slowing me down, but not by much. We get onto the final road for the finish, and he's puts down the hammer and goes for it. I draft behind, and I swear I barely have to pedal to keep up. I decide I'll tag along for the ride, and then just before the finish, kick down and scoot by hime. But I've actually never tried that before - I start my sprint a bit late, and am gaining on him, but not quick enough for the finish line, which appears sooner than I expect. I end up placing 8th out of 12. So yeah I should have killed myself trying to stay in the paceline with those guys at the top - looks like I would have finished around 5th - 5 minutes faster. Oh well, next time.

The ride home is again a bit adventurous, as try to find the mysterious missing link in the short cut. But with the gas guage reading low, and heading down a dirt road that seems to be going nowhere, we turn around and take the sure way out.

Bear Springs Race

Race#2 of the season for me. This time I started a little fresher, as had been resting the last couple of days as opposed to doing intervals. This race was a blast last year - lots of technical sections, some good downhills and a few ramps.
I arrived about 45 min before the race start - not in a big hurry, as last year everybody showed up late, and the start got delayed by an hour as everyone had to file their paperwork. But this time I was one of the last to arrive, good except for the fact that I bottomed out the van in one of that last available crappy parking spots. A quick warmup, and all ready to go on time at 11 am. Here's the play-by-play from my perspective :

The relatively large group of Pros and Experts take off. As usual, I have strategically placed myself near the back of the pack. We blast down the tarmac for a minute, then it's off to the right up a steep unclimbable dirt road - everybody off their bikes and running raggedly up the rutted incline - stupid start, much chaos. A stretch of wide dirt track for a while, where passing is possible. I finally pass a few poeople after 20 minutes or so, and right after I drop my chain on a downshift before a dirt road climb, and all those I passed and more get by me ! I don't seem to have much wind, and notice I am riding alongside people who usually finish near the back. Catch up to ChrisS - we had a great neck-and-neck race last year, maybe more of the same this year ? I get by him and then later a few more, then time for some downhill. Someone's right behind me... hey it's ChrisS - alright the race is on !

Notice at the 1:15 hour mark I'm starting to get tired - not going to be a big day it would seem. Hit a bit of a climb though, and I'm chugging along nicely. The trails are great, and I allow myself to forget I'm racing for a bit and just have fun. Now approaching the 2 hour mark, which based on last years time, means about another hour or so to go. But is the race longer or something, because there's some points of reference which I haven't seen yet - so yeah either I'm slower (not impossible), or the race is longer. A group of 3 surge past me on the road. I decide to try hanging on to their wheels just for fun - see how long I can last - but I end up staying with them for a while. A little bit later they are hanging onto my wheel, and later yet I've dropped them. Thanks guys. I guess I didn't know I could go faster. Now getting into the last half hour of the race. Lots of techy stuff that wears you out, but I'm feeling great (as opposed to last week's race, where I was in 'survival mode' for the last 1/4 of the race). Passing a few more people here and there. Now hit the rooty slick riverside trail - the bike and me are rolling this stuff great (29'er advantage). Then the steep climb out of the ravine - lowest gear grunting and several dismounts up steep switch-backs. Up to the last, steepest climb, and feeling pretty wasted, am about to dismount, when up ahead I see someone still on their bike, almost reaching the top. Inspiration, and I try it and make it as well - hey it was a girl - the top pro female.

Inside 10 minutes to go and I push hard. Pass several casualties - poeple collapsed on the side of the trail cramped up, some just leaning on trees still on their bikes. Onto the road for the final stretch to - and no one behind me, so don't have to sprint too hard. I get 4th out of 17 - one of my best results ever - quite the reverse from last week, which was probably my worst. And I learned a valuable lesson - go faster !

Training observation #1

Building leg muscle over the winter appears to be useful. Because this year I didn't, and I seem to be feeling the effects. Let me explain : in my training program, you do a bunch of heavy leg lifting during the winter, culminating with a month or so of really heavy weights, with few repetitions. For example last year I recall pushing almost 800 lbs in Leg Presses, over 5x my body weight. Then you go into on the bike training, then racing, etc. So after many months on the bike, I went back to the gym to see how many lbs I could push with my legs, and the results were pathetic - like no strength or power at all. Yet I could ride my bike for 3 hours hard in a race with no problem. From this I concluded that leg exercises in the gym must be useless. So, I didn't do them this year.

So what ? Well, I noticed that when I started doing intervals on the bike this season, my legs were hurting, but my lungs were good. So then I determined that building up the legs with weights is fairly useless wrt racing, but it provides a training effect early in the season by forcing the lungs to work harder. So you don't need it later on, but earlier on is good as a jump start.

I Mudd

After some trials and tribulations, finally got to attend the much vaunted Mudslinger race. This is usually the first mountain bike race of the season, and has a huge attendance. I could never ascertain the reason for this, but I postulated it was only popular because it was the first opportunity for training-happy racers to show their stuff after coming out of hibernation, during which they spent 9 hours a day on the trainer. It can't be for the quality of the trails, which are still pretty wet and muddy. And ditto for the weather.

So last year I signed up but never made it, due to an inconvenient early spring snowstorm that resulted in my abandoning the early morning 3-hour drive across the Pass, because I didn't want to risk my life fighting through snow at high speed to make it there on time, and then of course there was the fact that it would probably be pissing down as much rain on the Other Side as snow on this side. So yeah, much easier to go back to bed and forget about it.

This year was determined not to repeat the past, and planned to leave the night before and camp out near the race. I was just about to start packing the van, and doing a pre-trip check on the vehicle, when I noticed a large burp on the front tire sidewall. Hmm, definitely some sidewall separation going on here, don't want to be doing any treacherous Pass driving on this here car - no sir. Well, maybe take the smaller Subaru, in which case would have to tent it (as opposed to sleep in van). Check forecast : raining and low of 42 - not fun for setting up tent. Alright, change plans and get up at 5am to drive over in the morning, just like last year. And the funny thing is, there is a snowfall warning until 5am the next day. Sheeyit, deja vu.

So get up at 5am - no snow around here or anywhere, so all systems go. Briefly contemplate abandoning back to bed, cuz race forecast is kinda chilly and wet, but of course go for it anyways... Drive through a bit of snow, and arrive by 9am at the cold and damp race start area. Large crowd as usual, and start near the back of the Expert group. I'm not feeling too rabid, only been on the MTB a few days, had some weird intestinal bug earlier in the week that had me horizontal for a coupla days - blah blah blah excuses - so just planning on going at a good steady pace and see what happens.

The rain holds off at the start, and we set off on a steady climb up fire roads for the first little while. Then an abrupt turn into singletrack, and the fun begins, as the muddy slop of trail is first encountered. Man, with only 50 or so riders in front of me, it's already turned to mushy crap, what will it be like the 2nd lap ? I hold my position mostly for the first hour or so, with only the occasional single-speeder (they started a bit later) getting by. I don't pass anybody either, which means I'm still in the latter part of my class. But feel great, constantly outputting over 100% of LTHR. The mudfest on the singletrack is actually starting to be fun - no traction at all - just controlled sliding. The occasional rider can be seen clambering back up slick slopes to the trail, after a wash-out and tumble down the side. Interspersed with the single track are some great fire-road vistas, and the overall experience is somewhat more pleasant than I had anticipated.

The first lap ends in a fun twisty downhill slick-fest, and back onto the fireroads for Big Climb #2. The legs are starting to fail a bit now. The Lungs are having a relatively easy time, and are finding Legs to be a bit of a party-pooper.
After a downhill section, Legs have decided to demonstrate their displeasure by cramping up. Now we all have to go slow because of stupid Legs. Amazingly the trail conditions have not deteriorated as I had presumed - in fact in some cases things seem to have improved - perhaps all the really squishy mud has been splashed off to the sides by the passage of riders.

On the last downhill, pass a bunch of people who are mud-sliding slowly, and get onto the road for the final climb to the finish - a gradual 2 or 3 mile affair that is exceedingly annoying after racing for over 2.5 hours. I expect many of the people I passed on the downhill will now be gaining on me. After a while, look back, and sure enough there's a posse of 4 or 5 riders getting closer. Push a little harder if that's possible, and when I look back they are gone. Almost at the finish, there's 1 behind me surging ahead. But I have absolutely no gas for a sprint, so have to let 'em by. I end up 10th out of 15 - my worst ever result in Expert I think ! Oh well can only go up from here ?

And thus ends the soggy muddy saga. It had started raining for the last hour or so, so that was a nice touch. Needless to say, the bike was weighed down with an extra few pounds of mud. My shorts looked like I'd just won a beer and shnitzel eating contest, and then enema'd myself. So yeah, a good time.

HitnRun

http://www.bendbulletin.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20070419/NEWS0107/704190317/0/FRONTPAGE

? It seems links don't work in Blogger...

da young coot xpost

http://bentrag.blogspot.com/2007/03/praise-da-lord-for-dah-assholes.html

Missing link :

Snow Terror grips Central Oregon !

at least that's what it seemed like last night, with 40 inches of snow expected over the next 48 hours. Planned to go up skiing early the next day, which was made easy by my son waking me up at 5:45 am. Checked the Mt. Bachelor website : 7.5" of snow overnight, with another 5" that morning - not bad, shouldn't be too crazy driving up there. I packed both my skate and classic skis, figuring the grooming might not be skate-worthy due to the big dump, and drove off just before 7am in pouring rain.

Ten minutes later I was out of the rain and into the snow-zone. Soon it became thick slush, and the car was starting to slide around. Visibility was getting bad, and there were blizzard-like wind gusts. As I ascended, the slush on the road gave way to a more consolidated snow surface, but visibility was getting worse. I decided to turn off at the first snow park, rather than driving all the way up to the mountain. But when I got there, a 3-foot high wall of snow from the snowplow blocked the entrance, so I kept going. Next snowpark...nope, not plowed at all. So what the heck, keep driving.

Now the road surface was actually getting better - recently plowed and much colder snow. I was able to increase velocity to about 50 mph, and got to the Mt Bachelor parking lot shortly. Couldn't see much, but didn't look like the lot had been plowed. Headed towards a group of 3 or 4 cars that had already parked, going through about a foot of snow. I saw the car in front of me was stuck, so slowed down and went around, but then I got stuck too ! The snow was so dense, that my 6" or so of clearance wasn't going to cut it. Tried going back and forth with the stick, attempting to rock it out - no way, all tires spinning. An SUV came in to park, and it got stuck too - even with way more clearance than I had. So got out the shovel, and started digging the snow out from under the car, and a path to where I wanted to park - about 30 feet away. This probably took 20 minutes, and then I was able to lurch ahead and park. Briefly contemplated just getting out of there, but I'd probably get stuck again...and if I ski for an hour or so, maybe the snowplow will have cleared the lanes.

So had a great ski for over an hour, and when I returned the snowplow had done a bit of work. Was able to get out relatively easy. Could see people shoveling and pushing cars all over the place, what a mess. The snowplow was way behind the number of people that needed to park. Driving back, the road had deteriorated, but still tons of people on the way to the hill - they don't know what they're in for ! Some more sketchy driving through deep snow and slush, but made it to work only a few minutes late. Tomorrow more of the same probably - what will I do ? :)