I Invented Mountain Biking

OK, so many people believe that mountain biking began when those dudes in California, like Joe Breeze and co., started putting fat tires on their regular bikes in the early 70's and taking to the mountain trails. But often when I pick up a new bike magazine, there's some article about how some person is the 'real' father of mountain biking, cuz they were riding dirt trails on their bikes way before that. But if you think about it, the first bicycle ever made (in the 1800's?) was a mountain bike, since dirt roads and trails were all they had then.

In any case, the term 'mountain bike' is somewhat of a misnomer anyways, since you don't need a mountain to ride trails.

But in the early 70's I too was a pioneer of 'mountain biking'. It was around that time when myself and my childhood friend Andreas, dumped our choppered out Stingrays (which were getting too small anyways), and moved up to full frame 26" CCM bikes. We both bought the same bike at the local bike shop, Castonguay's (I wonder if that's still around). They were bright red, had a 3-speed shifter, and pretty fat tires too. We found these bikes could handle all kinds of terrain - pavement, dirt, neighbour's lawn, etc., and at a pretty good speed too.

Around that time they had started work on adding another 9 holes to the golf course in our neighbourhood (destroying the Bush we had spent many years foraging in), and the area behind our houses became a massive bulldozed dirt playground, with a mixture of old trails, mountains of dirt, streambeds, downed trees, and half-finished golf holes. We started ripping around there on our bikes, flying off jumps, riding obstacles and descending dirt chutes. We were mountain biking, man ! And we even had a cool name for it - "Rough Riding" - better than "mountain biking" I think :)

Yeah, so next time you go Rough Riding you can tell your biking buddies where the name came from !

Race Report : Ashland Spring Thaw

Some people dis' this race, saying it's not a real mountain bike race, what with all the fire road riding and general lack of singletrack. But it's a great test of overall fitness, with a bit of strategy thrown in. Sure, roadies can do pretty well in this race - but at least the rutted descent at the end keeps most people from using their cyclocross bikes. It starts off with a half-mile of street riding, winding up the hill that overlooks the town. Then onto fire roads, with a pretty consistent grade and 3000 feet of climbing. By the end of this climb, the race is almost half over time-wise, and the place in you're in now will be pretty close to your finishing place. A bit of single track is thrown in, and then you're onto a long stretch of mostly level fire-road that wraps around in a horseshoe shape. This is where they say you 'win or lose' the race. If you find yourself alone on this 11-mile stretch, you will be going much slower than if you are in a paceline group that is drafting, and you are 'screwed'. Somewhat true, but there are enough people in the race that a paceline will probably come along at some point, and if you're alone you have to keep an eye out for that, and jump onto it before it zips by you. After this you've got a nice steep smooth singletrack descent that is over much too quickly, a bit more putzing around with fire roads and scraps of single-track, and then what's probably a 3000 foot descent on a rutted twisty double track. If you don't have good technical descending skills, this section will eat you up and spit you out : huge trenches and whoop-de-doos abound, and it's amusing to see riders get pinballed all over the place. Then back to steep descending tarmac for the last mile, and you're done.

I left for this race the night before, planning on finding a camping spot in the dark, within half an hour of Ashland. Took the boring 97 South for 2 hours, then West on the twisty Route 66. I was aiming for the last mountain pass before the town - where there was a 10-mile road up to some reservoir recreation area. Darkness fell and out came the bugs - 10,000 splats later I was at the turn-off. Never sure what to expect when scouting for camp spots in this state. Either every square inch of land is private, accompanied by No Trespassing signs, etc. Or you're in the middle of nowwhere and it's easy pickings. Luckily this turned out to be the latter case. Found a good pull-out down a side-road, and did the customary tent setup and beer drinking ceremony. During the night heard these occasional low-frequency hummings in the distance. I remember hearing these last year in another campside that was 20 miles away. Definitely something weird going on the woods around here - probably aliens.

Got to the race by 7:30 the next morning, and tried to figure out the parking deal. Last year got a ticket for exceeding the 4 hour limit. Found a little parking area that had no limit signs - seemingly too good to be true. After scouting around for hidden signs or other tricks, decided it was safe to park there. Some other guy from Bend in a camper was parked beside me. Little did I know we were in the same race class, and would finish within minutes of each other (else I wouldn't have been so friendly :). Some punk-ass dude across the way was blasting shitty rap music - the same swear words repeated over and over with the same boring beat. So I countered with some YoYo Ma.

These guys didn't mess around with the 9am start time. I had just finished my 20th trip to the bathroom and was slurping down a GU as I got to the line, expecting the usual delay, when "30 seconds to start!" was announced. The stampede begins - but not as crazy as usual due to the wide open spaces. The pack gets quickly strung out on the climb, and I pick a group to try and follow. I'm not expecting to feel too strong today, since did intervals the last 2 days, but I actually feel pretty good. But the group is definitely slipping away. Get near the top, and I'm pacing with the lead pro woman. Approach the dreaded 'draft or die' section, and we agree to work together. It helps a bit, but we don't pick up any other stragglers to make a good paceline. Then a few people pass us, and one of them is a woman! This woman has an unusually low posture, her back almost horizontal, and a very large posterior that must be full of muscle. The former lead chick and I try to catch up, but can't quite bridge the distance. After a long while we see signs ahead, which must mean the single track descent is coming up. The lead woman slows way down - maybe not a good descender - and myself and another WebCyclery guy launch down the trail. I stay with him through the twisty narrow trails, and soon pop out onto the last fire road climb. I conserve energy a bit, remembering that there's another tough single track climb further up, but it's actually really short. And then all of a sudden the last long steep rutty downhill begins - damn, still got lots of energy !



I'm following a group of 5 or 6, going a bit too slowly for me, but no real safe place to pass. But a couple crashes later, and some miscellaneous attrition, and we're down to just 2. Pop out onto the pavement, which is uber-steep with some good hairpins. This is where I passed a whole bunch of people last year, due to my incredible braking prowess. OK it's not really that great, but having disc brakes, and having ridden a motorcycle for years, I'm pretty good at braking as late as possible into a turn. A tight steep hairpin approaches, and I easily outbreak the guy beside me, almost laughing as he seems to be going backwards. OK, getting within a 50 feet of this bad-boy curve, time to start braking harder... Then all of a sudden I get one of those nasty disaster premonition flashes, as my brakes start to fade. The grip I'm expecting is no longer there, and I'm hurtling towards the outside of the turn at uncontrollable speed. Time slows down, and I can see the hard curb approaching, and the steep drop off on the other side. I know something 'bad' is about to happen, and am powerless to stop it. I can smell burning rubber as my rear brake completely locks up. Squeeze the front brake as hard as I can, but it's gone. As I reach the outside of the turn, still not going nearly slow enough, I hit dirt and gravel, and put the bike sideways in a skid turn. Luckily this does the trick, time speeds up again, and I scrub off speed going away from the turn. Jump off the bike, do a 180, and crank it back in the right direction. One more turn to the finish line - I can't catch the guy I was ahead of, but no one else catches me. Finish in 2:11, 11 minutes faster than last year. End up 5th out of 12 in the Expert 40+ class. Everybody was faster this year : last year 40 people were under 2:15, but this year 61 were under that time.

Race Report : Bear Springs Trap

I have no idea why they call it a 'Trap' - but I was determined to find out. This race is brought to you by the fine folks who put on that race I ragged on last year, with all the confusing intersections. I guess that's just their style, because in the race flyer they warn you about blowing by important junctions and watching for signs, covering their ass so to speak.

I followed the directions to the race start on Sunday morning, an hour and a half drive North of Bend. This worked out pretty well, so I was encouraged the course would be just as easy to follow. Then I discovered the Trap : you had to pay $5 to park in this part of the forest, or buy the the yearly forest service pass for $25. Well my pass from last year should still be good.. except I left it in the other car. Oh well, wrote a little note explaining this which seemed to work.

So after riding in 70F degree weather in Bend the previous day, I wasn't worrying about it being cold. Then how come the thermo is reading 4 degrees outside the car ? Hmm, it's only 9:30 am, it should warm up. Luckily I threw my long riding pants in the car at the last minute, along with my goretex socks and winter gloves. Yup, needed them all. By 10:30 it was up to 7 or 8 degrees. I changed layers several times, but retained full coverage. I was all ready for the race start at 10:45 am, but there were still 100 people in line waiting to get registered. Finally ready to go at 11:20, and by this time I was getting a bit hot, and my bladder was nudging me to take a little walk in the forest. Then ensued what seemed like half an hour of explanation about the course - something about pink ribbons. And the obligatory category roll call, whereupon I discovered everyone in my class was way ahead of me in the start chute. Hmm so the race hadn't started yet and I was already in last place :) Well my plan wasn't to go balls out today anyways, just ride at a steady pace. It's cool, I'll start way back here with all the feebs and grommets and ladies. Never understood why people push so hard to get up front, squeezing themselves into any little opening, anything to get further ahead. You bend down to tighten your shoe, and wham - five people squeeze ahead of you. And many of these people are slow, causing bottlenecks as the road funnels into single track.

Well, enough chit-chat, the gun goes off and a group of 80 or so Pros and Experts start racing up the tarmac towards the 90 degree turn onto dirt a quarter mile away. It doesn't clog up too bad, it's rocky double track for a while so passing is available if you want to risk going off the main path onto bigger rocks and sticks. I love doing a race where you've never ridden the course, and have no idea what the terrain is like. This race had a fine helping of almost all kinds of riding : steep muddy climbs, baby smooth downhill sweepers, rocky twisty steep descents, log rides, baby-head talus slope traverses, bridges, everything. It's all good, and I'd forgotten about all the pink ribbon warnings as I followed a group bombing down a nice descent, when I see the tell-tale sign that it's all gone horribly wrong : a bunch of riders are climbing the trail back up towards us. They are yelling something - what's that, a bear ? Is that the Trap ? Oh, "Wrong way!" is what they're saying. We all do 180's in place and climb back up - yeah we blew by that little pink ribbon - tough to see a 90 degree turn to the left when you're flying by in a cloud of dust. Cool - now that we've totally screwed ourselves on any podium finish, let's just have fun ! Actually it only amounts to a few minutes lost...



I have kind of a blank spot now about what happened for the next little while...I was churning along at 95%, keeping a good pace, but not wanting to push it too hard since with my limited riding time I wasn't sure if I'd blow up or not. I passed more people than passed me I think. Went across a nice bridge in an open meadow, the birds were singing and the sun was shining, and then... I saw someone I knew ahead - my buddy Chris who I raced with quite a bit last year. Aha, if I can just sneak by him undetected...not a chance, I can see his eyes widen as he looks behind and recognizes me - then it's like his ass is on fire and he cranks it up a notch and takes off. This was one of the guys in the paceline I was in in that Ashland race last year, the roadie race at 5000 feet, my first race in Oregon. I ended up catching him at the line in an all-out sprint finish, beating him by a second. Then every race after that I was often a few minutes ahead. Now I can see that he's determined this will not happen again. I decide to stick with my game plan of riding a steady race, and don't match his intensity. It's not like I'm riding slow, but he's definitely getting away. What the hell - I nudge up the intensity just a tad, and start gaining on him. Get right up beside him on a dirt road section, and start talking it up. But he's not much into conversation, and keeps forging ahead. I have enough in reserve that I could initiate a good pass attempt, but then this might cause a bit of "Oh yeah?!", back and forth, as we yo-yo the intensity up until one of us collapses. So just stay behind him, like 10 feet behind, even on the high speed downhills.

This goes on for like 45 minutes, as we thrash through some muddy, rooty, riverside trails that sap your energy. Another guy is in our group now, and it's getting harder to stay with them, as Sport class riders who did a shorter loop are now clogging the trail a bit. I finally pass them on a steep uphill, as they're pushing their bikes while I grind up, still in the saddle. Again I decide not to put the hammer down and try to leave them in the dust. Then I realize this is not possible anyways, as a branch has become stuck in my derailleur cog, playing the spokes like a hockey card. Normally I would stop to pull it out, but not wanting to let them by, I just start shifting all over the place and hopping up and down on my bike, trying to dislodge the little bugger. Finally it comes out. I miss a turn across a bridge, put on the brakes, and the other 2 end up sandwiching each other behind me. The third dude gets hot and starts blaming Chris for backing into him, as we all try to reorient ourselves to walk across the bridge, which is nothing but a series of stumps in the mud. Seeing how these guys are being a bit aggro, I motion them to go ahead of me, and take it out on the trail. Thinking back on it, I should have just pushed them both down in the mud and taken off !:)

They get ahead again, and we end up coming out onto a road. I'm sucking back some fluid and thinking about popping another gel, when I realize, 'Shit this is the road just down from the start line!' I'm a few hundred feet behind Chris when I stomp on it, going full blast for the finish line. People appear on the side of the road as we get closer, screaming for blood. This doesn't help my stealth attack much, and I end up being about 20 feet short at the line. Well, as it turns out a medal wasn't at stake, as we finished 5th/6th out of 15 or so in our class.

Awesome race, probably the toughest technically that I've done in Oregon. Today, don't feel too bad. Did some 8 minute MSP intervals, and then yeah OK starting to hurt. Next stop, Ashland.

Giant chipmunks

While out on a ride, one frequently encounters those small darting furry creatures known as chipmunks. They burst out of the bushes beside the trail, stop suddenly as they see you approach, dart away, then rip back across the trail and nearly get crushed by your wheel. I don't recall ever flattening one, but many times it's been close. I often encounter the larger 2-footed chipmunks, aka trail-runners, and they are almost as unpredictable. They hear you approach, and rather than just moving to the side to give you room, they often jump right in front of you at the last second, using some kind of avoidance logic I have not yet figured out. Ok so maybe they don't hear you until you're almost about to run them over, but enough with the sudden movements already ! I used to shout at them that I was coming through, expected them to either stay where they were, or move closer to the edge. But apparently this sudden intrusion into their peaceful tweety-bird world, only causes them to panic and run spastically in many directions at once, increasing the likelyhood of a collision. So now my strategy is to stay as quiet as possible, increase velocity, and whip by them to one side. This has worked well with the Ipod-wearing crowd, and various other oblivious joggers. And it is quite amusing to scare the crap out of them as you whiz by, often followed by shouts of confusion or was that rage... But many times the sharp-eared ones do the afore-mentioned sudden chipmunk dart as you get near them, which results in interesting crash avoidance scenarios. The other day I was approaching a female runner on a very slight downhill doubletrack, rolling with a good amount of speed. She was in the left-side track, so I decided a high-speed pass on the right would work perfectly. As I got within 100 feet, I could see the slight head twitch indicating my presence had been detected, whereupon she decided the best course of action was to move to the very center of the trail - perhaps to provide me with a left or right passing lane. Very well, a little risky, but still doable - I reduce speed a bit, but stay on the right side. I am 20 feet away, and all of a sudden she decides to pick the right hand track, directly in my path. I grab 2 handfuls of brake and skid it out on the gravel, halfway into the bushes but manage to squeeze by without contact... What ? Was that a boring ending ? You were hoping for some blood or something ? Maybe I will create a fantasy ending if you like - let me know...

Trails in the sky

I learned yesterday that Ray Peters has left us - he's gone on to blaze new trails in the afterlife. I won't wax on about what a selfless and dedicated individual he was - I'm sure you'll hear that a lot. But if you're ever wandering around the trails on your bike, and you happen to start riding up Icy Hole of Death, pause a moment at that first sustained little climb in the clearcut (where the incline will force a lot of riders to pause anyways :) . See those cut logs to either side of the trail ? The crosshatches on some of the wood you ride over ? Ray Peters made those cuts. He helped me out one day when I was building that trail - lugging in an 18" saw with all his safety equipment - and together we hacked and cut our way through the deadfall, opening up the trail. So reflect a moment on his life, and maybe how he affected your life, and then float down that trail, so named because of my own brush with death, a place where we'll all be riding some day.

No mud was slung by me

It was time for the first race of the season - the infamous Mudslinger. Now there hasn't been much mud around here in Bend, since it's hidden by all the snow we've had in the last month, but over there on the West side of the mountains, supposedly they have rain and a good helping of muck. So eager for an early season mud-bath, I signed up for the race.

I was eager to fly the bright colors of the Web Cyclery race team, and I was going to kick ass because I've been on my mountain bike....uh... once in the last 5 months. Ok so I was going to suck wind a bit, but so what it's all fun and games until the EPO kicks in.

Normally I would show up at the race site the day before, do a lap of the course, and scope out some short-cuts (just kidding:). But I decided to just get up at 5am on Sunday, and scoot on over, getting there with at least an hour to spare. The plan was looking good until this happened on Saturday.

Just a minor setback, I'm sure it will all melt off in a few hours. But no, it kept coming down, and got colder. But being the eternal optimist, I got all packed up the night before, and bolted out of bed at 5am as the alarm went off (I don't think I've used an alarm in years). Checked the road report, and noticed there were all these blue diamond icons on the mountain pass roads, which meant severe weather, chains recommended, etc. Now I am somewhat of a Gilles Villeneuve in the snow, but I didn't see how I could maintain the required 65 mph average through that stuff to get there on time...

So I was LAME!, and went back to bed. Then went out later and did some intervals on the road bike, and coughed some strange stuff out of my lungs.

Roadies

Sure looks like fun ! Someone release the rabbits !

You've lost that dirt loving feeling

I'm on my mountain bike for the first time in 5 months. It feels alien and awkward, cramped and twitchy, not an extension of my body as it was many moons ago. Mind you, the circumstance aren't the best - it's around zero degrees and I'm commuting to work - a test ride to make sure everything still works. Mostly pavement, a few scraps of dirt and some curb jumps. Got lobster gloves on, so braking and shifting are a bit fuzzy. In fact, braking is almost non-existent, as my disc brakes have lost pressure or have some other problem, after months of hanging idle on the wall.

Get out at lunch and hit some dirt - although it's often a toxic combination of mud and dog-shit. Got a bit of the feeling back. But yeah can't wait for me and the bike to become one again ... and being two is fun in a sick way too, as you leave the bike careening down the trail and take flight into some bushes.

Indian Winter

Just as my bikes start poking their noses out of the garage, hopefully not seeing their shadows - wham! - winter comes back with a vengeance. Snow off and on all last week, and next week ditto. Went for a one hour snow/sleet/rain ride during the week - not too bad - with a clothing cocktail of various wind-proof and rubberized items, it was actually quite comfortable. I love my Casteli winter biking jacket - this thing is thin and lightweight, but completely wind-tight - one wicking layer underneath and you're good to zero degrees.

The next day, ran up the white flag for biking, and took to the woods on skis. A foot of fresh dumped overnight, real fluffy stuff, and did a coupla morning hours breaking trail. Made excessive use of my rectus femoralis, a very useful trail-breaking muscle (also a good one to fire off on the bike on the top pedal-stroke). It's hilarious how no-one wants to break trail - on my return journey could see everyone had followed my exact track - nubes!

Today rode the trainer in the garage for an hour, doing some sprint intervals and what-not. Still chafing the chode pretty good - have to rebuild that callus I guess !:) But according to my uber-training program, was supposed to go on a 3.5 hour road ride today. So had lunch, then drove up to Bachelor with various ski configurations. Took the skate skis out as usual, but it was snowing so hard that the groomers couldn't keep up with it - wait a second - I never saw a groomer - lazy turds. An hour and a half of pushing through the rapidly accumulating sno was enough... Got out the classic skis and did another hour and a half. Whew... on the way home broke down and picked up McD's for a quick fix. Got an extra order of fries to bring home for the munchkins, which they devoured like jackals on a fresh kill.

8:30 pm. Everyone else is asleep. Me too soon I think zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Two Wheels Good

That was the title of some 80's band's album. Can't remember the name - the song 'When Love Breaks Down' was on it maybe ? Anyways got back on the [road] bike this past week - the first time since October. Lungs felt pretty good with all the Nordic I've been doing. Did a short ride at noon some day during the week, going in a new direction, down China Hat Road. First 15 minutes all urban - traffic, noise, subdivisions - then all of a sudden I'm away from it all amidst old growth trees on a gently contouring road. The sky darkens a bit and sporadic snow flakes are falling. Every now and then it squalls out to a mini-blizzard, but still not accumulating. Up ahead, movement on the road : 3 white-tails see me approaching and bound off through the woods. Check watch - time to turn around. See sign on the way back : "Entering Deschutes National Forest" - so that explains the transition. Hope it lasts - I heard Bush is trying to sell off parcels of forest land.

I opt for a long endurance ride on Saturday, which ends up being 3.5 hours. Sure, lungs felt great, but the rest of my body is wrecked - cramped neck and arms, sore calves and Achilles, numb chode, and just general wastedness. So I guess another ride is out for Sunday - went skate skiing instead for 2.5 hours. I'm used to doing that, shouldn't be a problem...? Well it got compounded by the cycling, so I was even a bigger mess Sunday night. And I was feeling - how shall I put it - gastronomically challenged (yes with accompanying odour track). And today went to the gym to get the blood flowing, but my body was basically a wet noodle from the waist down. So this schedule is in need of some adjustment - maybe less endurance and more beer ?

Oregon MTB Report #3 [from Jul 21, 05]

Lesson #1 : never stop hammering

It’s a skeleton crew at the start line for the Sport class race, at Ski Bowl near Mt. Hood. Maybe people have been scared off by the dismal weather that always seems to hang around these mountains – the last time they had a race here, in early June – it snowed. Currently it’s barely 10 degrees at 10 am and a light drizzle is falling. I see one person I know in my class – he was at the race last week. I managed to win that one, while he came in a couple of minutes behind in 3rd place [Pic at right is me on the way to my first ever race win] I know I’m a marked man now, and he’s definitely giving me and my equipment the once-over. He’s racer-boy with his sponsored kit and minimal accessories – where do these people carry their pumps and other shit ? Me, I’m wearing baggy shorts and flip-flops and guzzling a beer 1 minute before the start – ok well the first one is true.

The gun goes off and we tear for the hole shot a couple hundred meters away. A good dozen get ahead of me as is normal. I don’t care too much – feeling kinda weak today and unmotivated with the rain. Into the single track, which is nice and technical with plenty of up-and-down and lotsa roots and rocks – makes me nostalgic for Squamish – sniff. Following too close to someone, I smash into them when they fail to negotiate a 4” uphill log – damn I keep forgetting how many of these Oregon racer types have crappy technical skills. Wait a second, that used to happen on Jack’s Trail in the Test of Metal too J

We get to the first major intersection, which is an open area with a couple of ski lifts and trails and roads going off in 6 different intersections. I’m in the front group of 3 or 4. Screwup #1 : the trail we’re supposed to go on is roped off, but the course directors yell at us to hop over some logs and go around the tape. Start going uphill, and RacerBoy and another guy motor ahead, I don’t have the legs to match their pace. Then hit a long rock-strewn downhill with some ledges – I pass one guy, and then in the technical single-track, start closing in on RacerBoy. I pass him in a set of switchbacks, and he voices his annoyance. Now I’m the front-runner. Hit the same complicated intersection again, and start a long climb up a road. RB is maybe 15 seconds back. Near the top of the climb, look for the downhill trail back to the start. The one I think we’re supposed to turn on is roped off, so I’m about to keep going when I notice some guy huffing and puffing up the hill. Screwup #2: this guy was supposed to open up the descent trail and direct people down it – guess he needs more uphill running practise ! I get delayed 30 seconds, and my pursuers are closing in !



The downhill is pretty gnarly – babyheads, ruts and 2 foot ledges. I push hard down it, hoping to regain my advantage. Almost lose it a couple of times, but I’m not used to riding a hardtail down this stuff. At the bottom start my second lap, go to lock down my fork – hey it’s already locked out. Hmm, no wonder that downhill seemed a little rougher than usual – I guess the blow-off valve works J

I keep looking behind me during the 2nd lap – no one in sight. Cool – got the gold medal wrapped up baby! Then hear something behind me on the switchbacks – some kid appears out of nowhere – he says he’s 16 and not tired – whatever, no problem – I let him by as we come out of the woods. Hit the disfunctional intersection again for the last time. The organizers are a little confused about where to direct me, do a quick huddle, then send me up the road. I know we have to take some different bit of singletrack on the 2nd lap back to the finish line, not sure where that starts. But Screwup #3 : I hear a lot of yelling behind me, and turn around to see the organizers gesticulating at me to turn back, they sent me the wrong way. So I turn around – apparently the other kid didn’t. They point me at some singletrack that looks familiar – hey that’s where we came out after we started, right ?



So I think I’m going in the right direction, until I see riders coming straight at me ! They are as surprised as I am, and there is much muttering and swearing and ‘what the fuck!?’. Come out onto the double-track section which points me back towards that main intersection a bit. Just before it goes back into singletrack I’m within shouting distance of the organizers, so I yell at them if I’m going the right way. I seem to hear that I’m on the right track, so keep going. More riders coming at me, and now I think I most definitely fucked up somewhere. Slow down a bit, feeling pissed off that the easy win has now turned into a major snafu. Then I hear an exultant shout behind me, and turn around to see Racer Boy charging full steam ahead. Somewhat stunned, I let him pass me. Finally my brain kicks into gear – if he thinks he knows where he’s going, this must be right ! So start chasing, but he’s got a good gap on me. But more riders coming at us cause a general slowdown, and I get a bit closer. Out of the singletrack and I’m hot on his tail charging down the road. But I can barely keep up – he’s got gold medal fever and is totally adrenalized. There’s a final steep rocky loose pitch near the end, and I shift into the big ring for the big showdown. He wavers a bit at the top, drifting left, and I seize my opportunity and drive hard down the fall-line, passing him. I hear him yell ‘You bastard!’ as I mash across a bridge, then up the last 100 feet to the finish line. And then… another Screwup ?!

I’m blasting for the finish line, my vision distorted from mud and sweat and the pounding blood, and then just as I speed into the finish chute, I hear people yelling “Slow down!”, and someone comes into my peripheral vision, and I end up crashing into the netting just before the finish line pole – the chute had a sharp bend in it right at the finish line. As I’m untangling myself, the other guy crosses the line. Shit – a few feet short of the line, and I’ve lost the numero uno placing. Stunned, the other guy congratulates me, saying “That was yours man”, acknowledging that I should have won the race, but didn’t. They write names on the board, and that doesn’t look like my name on the top. Then the organizer hands us medals. What’s this – mine has a goldish colour ? Look at the board – hey that is my name on the top ! So I guess they realized when they slowed me down that I’d already passed the timing line …

Man this race was one screwup after another – luckily justice prevailed or something.

Oregon MTB Report #2 [from Jul 1, 05]

So I’ve been biking in the High Desert of Bend Oregon for about 4 months now. What a different world ! Most trails are smooth as a baby’s ass, and lots of people here has bikes what don’t gots suspension. Also popular here is single-speeds, since the terrain is mostly gently rolling type stuff. Ok so the trails aren’t all that exciting, but there sure are a lot of them ! Over a hundred miles of trails in an area a few miles wide and 10 miles long – similar in size to the area that holds Alice Lake area down Jack’s and Mashiter to Garibaldi Highlands. And the whole area is tilted, so you’ve got a downhill direction to make things exciting, and paved roads on each side of it so you can do shuttle runs.

I figured my 5+5 full suspension bike was a little overkill for this area, plus I wanted a lighter racier bike. Tried a hard-tail – nah even on smooth trails didn’t like that butt-ramming effect. Ended up getting a 29” softail.

I started signing up for a bunch of races, partly as an excuse to travel and explore new places, but mostly as a chance to get away from my screaming kids (just kiddingJ). First stop was Ashland, OR , the last weekend in April. It’s a small artsy town off of I-5 in the coastal hills of SW Oregon, just above California. I heard vague rumours about this place, something about women … yeah well all I can say there’s something special in the water there, rumours are true. Got there the day before the race so I could preride it, but got lost and confused in the town and by the time I found where it started it was too late. Good thing too, as it was a few thousand feet of climbing and a long loop that would have finished me for the next day. So the race started the following day with 3000 feet of climbing, nearly all on fire roads. Then you plateau onto a ridge for a long way, and I’m thinking “Where is the single-track?”. I catch up to a guy, and he says “Wanna pace ?”. Eh ? Apparently it’s some roadie term for taking turns leading the way and drafting. So we switch off for a while, and start reeling in single riders. Every time we pass someone we ask them to join up. Soon we’ve got a six-person pace line going… what am I doing in a !#$!# road-race at 4000 feet on a dirt road ? After at least half an hour of this, I look back at one point and see that I”ve dropped everybody. Soon comes a bit of single track, then more road. Getting a bit tired, and a couple of pacers go by me – hey, those are the first 2 guys I was pacing with ! So it works apparently. Then hit the downhill : about 3000 feet of swooping single track and gnarly double track – this part is fun. I catch up to Pacer #1 and pass him. We drop onto tarmac for the last mile to the finish line. I see Pacer#2 ahead, and pour it on, beating him by a second at the finish. I ended up 4th in my class – not too bad.

A couple of weeks later my new bike arrives, and my first ride on it is a pre-ride of a race right here in Bend. I show up for the race the next day full of confidence : now on a 25lb race machine, I’m thinking high podium finish. I get a crappy start position, but pass a bunch of people quickly and have a pretty decent race. 2 hours and 20 minutes later I cross the finish line, and end up in … 13th place ?! Man did I have my ass handed to me. This Bend crowd is fast !

3 weeks later, another Bend race. This course is cool – very fast single track, with some high speed downhills and a technical section through lava rocks. I have a killer race, and get… 9th place ? But wait, all Sport class racers were supposed to do 1 short lap and 1 long lap - rumours abound that supposedly several people ‘got confused’ and did 2 short laps instead. So results are skewed – I see several top spots occupied by guys who finished near the end of the pack in previous races – so I placed at least 7th and possibly 5th – but who’s counting ? Still when you train as hard as I do – 7 or 8 hours a week J - it really matters OK ? J

It’s now June, and flowers are sprouting, etc yada. I sign up for a race in Northern California, and bring the family camping for the weekend. Yreka is a microscopic burg in the steep rolling hills of near-coastal Northern Cal. We camp in a great spot beside the Klamath River, popular with rafting companies. The first night the munchkins are pretty freaked out their first time in a tent in a long time, and I basically get no sleep. But next day is just a preride of the course, so no biggie… Awesome course – I can see why they’ve been having this race for like 13 years. Lots of single track right from the beginning, and up the 2000 foot climb. The downhill starts steep and loose, then flows into narrow singletrack ribbon cut into the side of steep open slopes. At high speed the trail feels about 6” wide – one false move and you’d be tumbling. Race day we do a couple of laps of this, and I end up getting 2nd place – so I had to go race in another state to get on the podium !

As the snow melts off, the alpine has started opening up in the foothills surrounding Bend. The trails there start less than 10 miles from town, and climb high up into the mountains with awesome vistas. These are your classic alpine loops : start off with a 2000 foot climb alongside a cascading stream through old growth forest, top out above the treeline with great views of snow-capped mountains, then a fast technical switch-backing descent through open meadows and steep trees. If Squamish had a bike trail going up Goat Ridge it would be like this. And they’re building more of these here all the time. The local bike organization has a great relationship with the Forest Service, which they’ve developed over the last 10-15 years. New major trails are spec’d, approved and built every year. They just got approval on a huge parcel of forest (maybe 100 square miles) where they’re going to build XC and freeride trails over the next few years.

Back to the racing : so I wasn’t really planning on doing the Test of Metal this year, and while I was pondering it for a few days, it sold out in a few minutes so that was decided. Coincidentally, there was this new race in Western Oregon on the exact same day, called the Test of Endurance. With close to 8000 feet of climbing on an 81 km course (2 laps), it seemed like a good replacement for the other ‘Test’. The week before the race, it rained every day there, so I was expecting some mud and other unpleasantness. The morning of the race, woke up in my tent to the sound of – more rain. The only good thing was the relaxed start atmosphere – with only 60 competitors, the crappy weather, and the expectation of at least 5 or 6 hours in the saddle, there was no jockeying for start position, etc. Miraculously, the sun came out 10 minutes before the start, and it stayed dry the whole time I was out there. But the mud remained, lots of it. A few minutes into the first muddy singletrack, I lost my granny gear to the mud. And a few minutes later, I couldn’t shift to my small chain ring. The way it was going, I’d be lucky to make it through the first lap. But the mud would shed off a bit on the dirt roads in between single-track, and I learned not to shift when in the mud – just pretend you have a single-speed – otherwise, chain suck and derailment. Anyways, enough about mud, we’ve all had it this year – boo hoo. So I do the first lap in just over 2.5 hours, and I’m aiming for 3 hours for the second lap. Feeling pretty good until the 4 hour mark, then start feeling wonky and heavy, so decide to slow down a bit and cruise to the finish. Look behind me on an open stretch of road – nobody there – so I guess I can just cruise and hold my position. But a few minutes later, people start appearing on the horizon behind me. Panicking, I pick up the pace a bit and drop them. But soon enough it happens again as I get lulled into slowing down. One guy is now only 100 feet behind me. What if he’s in my class, and ends up stealing my podium spot ?! He looks like the guy who slowed me down in the singletrack before, so I aim to beat him to the next section. I’m really starting to hate these people for making me put in all this extra effort ! The last singletrack is a downhill slop thick with mud – but kinda fun once you figure out how to surf it. I pass a couple more people, and drive hard the last 2 miles on road to the finish. Make it in just under 5.5 hours – good enough for 3rd place (there were only 6 people in my class – but hey 3 of them were Expert’sJ).

Next on the horizon : more alpine riding and miscellaneous races.

Ape Canyon

Mmmm, chorizo


Prep


Old growth




Chasm


VT pose


Chug it!


Ridge



Where's that confounded bridge ?!

Squamish To Bend

I moved