I went into this years TNGA with high expectations of riding a solid ride. My intent was to beat Eddie O'dea's record of 2 days 34 minutes. It was going to be a huge challenge with not much time to sleep, pretty much ride 48 hrs or less straight through. There also was a deeper field than ever before. Shey Lidner, a legendary endurance racer, was going to be there. Brad Kee and Matt Fusco, who have successfully completed races like the Tour Divide and AZT 750 among others, were going to be there. Wayne Goins, who gets the hardcore award for riding 16 hrs straight in a tropical storm in last years TNGA before finally succumbing to hypothermia, would be in attendance. Ardie Olsen, who finished 2nd in the Tour divide one year, would be there. Ruth Cunningham was there representing the female side hoping to beat the previous women's record. Plus, there would be 25 or so other riders who could potentially put up strong finishes. I felt fairly confident in my physical conditioning, but in these ultra-long races, there are so many variables and things that could go wrong. I knew it was going to be one of the toughest events I have ever participated in.
My plan was to ride light with the absolute bare minimum gear. Anything that seemed even remotely a luxury stayed at home. It was going to be somewhat cool because of a cold front that had gone through a couple days earlier, so I packed some arm warmers and a wind breaker for a little warmth. These minimal layers would mean I would be somewhat cold at times but I had to travel as light as possible especially since I knew Shey, Brad, and Matt would be traveling in the same manner. I would travel light on food and water, only carrying enough to get me to the next resupply point. It's a somewhat risky way to travel but it could also pay off. I would just have to be willing to be a little uncomfortable. I had my game plan, now I was ready to ride. Unfortunately, my camera got fried in Colorado, so I wasn't able to take any photos of my ride.
It was Saturday morning and the air was crisp. Perfect riding weather! All the participants were milling around trying to distract themselves from pre-race jitters. Dave Muse was walking around answering Spot questions and last minutes questions about the route. He really has put a huge amount of effort into putting together this awsome, monster of a route. After a short pre-ride meeting, we were off into the unknown.
The pace from the start was nice and easy. I love these events and one reason is the starts. You're getting ready to ride 330 miles so might as well enjoy the start and not blow yourself up in the first half mile. It gives you a chance to talk to the other riders and the scope out everybody's set-ups.
The first hundred miles or so of this route before Helen hits you with back to back to back big climbs. After Helen, there are a couple more big climbs on pavement before it finally somewhat flattens out. Then there is a brute of a climb called Stanley Gap that destroyed me last year. Once again, it flattens out somewhat for around 20 miles before entering some of the highest mountains on the route called the Cohuttas. Once through the Cohuttas, it becomes dead pan flat over to Dalton, the last easy resupply before the end. The last section I think is the crux of the whole route. Though the mountains are a lot smaller than the ones previously ridden, they are a lot steeper and more technical with very little water.
Shey, Trey Woodall, John Hightower, and I made to Rabun Gap fairly quickly. John and Trey decided to go into RG to grab a bite, so Shey and I continued on after Wayne who was somewhere up ahead. We finally caught Wayne on Patterson Gap and then rode together until somewhere after the Tallulah river. After the Tallulah, we kind of separated do to different paces with Shey going off the front.
After Dick's Creek Gap, the route dove off the side of the highway and down a gravelly downhill. In years past, the route continued on this little gravel road down to another highway, turned right and headed over past Moccasin state park(a nice resupply), then up Wildcat road to Addis Gap. This year, the route had to make a detour do to a land slide on Wildcat road. The detour involved a massive hike-a-bike then a traverse over to the upper part of Wildcat road then on up to Addis Gap. Let me tell you something, I've done both routes, and although shorter, this new detour really upped the difficulty of the route big time. No nice and easy cruise up Wildcat, no resupply at Moccasin, just one big hike and I loved it. Kind of gives you a sense of being out there just a little more.
The sky was looking dark as I made it over Addis Gap. Then it started to sprinkle and suddenly, CRASH! A huge bolt of lightning hit not to far away. I had just come back from Colorado a few weeks prior and had some close and personal lightning experiences out there. Lightning terrifies me because of its unpredictability. The only predictable thing about right now was that I was hauling butt downhill, fast! Then the heavens opened up and I was riding in rivers down the mountain. By the time I was almost to the bottom, it stopped raining.
The next climb was Trey mountain. It's one of the longest sustained climbs on the route. About 10 minutes into the climb, it started dumping again and didn't stop for the next hour until I was almost to the top. Over the top, the route goes downhill on a super fun, rutted out, rocky jeep road before getting to Hickory Nut trail. Hickory is a yard sale waiting to happen! First off, it's hard to locate because it's really overgrown. Once locating the trail, it's super easy to crash due to the suitcase size boulders hiding under the thick overgrowth. The overgrowth consist of typical southern poison ivy, stinging nettles, an assortment of skin ripping briers, and huge spider webs. Hey, wait a minute, why am I hitting all these spider webs, I thought Shey was ahead of me. Close to the bottom of Hickory, Shey caught me when I was surveying some damage caused by a boulder to my down tube. Shey had stopped somewhere before Trey to resupply.
Rolling into Robertstown, I suddenly felt light headed and starving. Reluctently, I had to let Shey go and headed into Helen to grab a sandwich at subway. After reviving myself, I gave chase knowing Shey was probably 20 miles down the road by now. Up and over Hogpen, then up Wolfpen to Duncan Ridge road. To my surprise, Shey was bivied at the beginning of Duncan. I was feeling great so I continued on into the night and down one of the funnest descents of the entire route.
Riding on some gravel road off the fish hatchery road, I suddenly got the all too familiar urge to puke. Funny things can happen to the stomach on these ultra rides and sometimes it can bring you to your knees. I knew I needed to take a break before it past the point of no return, so I found a quiet place in the woods and laid down. Before long, I was freezing cold. Due to nice little afternoon thunder dumper, I was still a little wet and since I was travelling light, I had no extra clothes. As I lay there shivering, trying to get my stomach to slow down, Wayne goes riding by. Then a few minutes later Shey goes ripping by in hot pursuit. About an hour later, Matt, Brad, and Robert Peerson, go rolling. Ok, time to get up, too many people have passed me by. It probably took me a half hour to warm up and it was so foggy I could barely see my front wheel.
I caught Brad and Matt just before Shallowford bridge and we stopped at the store across the road to refill water. After talking to them for a couple minutes, I took off on my own down Aska road to Green Mountain trail.
Green Mountain and Stanley Gap trails are the second hardest section of the route for me. Last year it took me three hours to get to the top of Stanley and I must have puked ten times on the way up. So I was a little nervous about it this year. I got in the mindset I would just play it safe and walk most of it. On the way up, I passed Robert in his bivy in the middle of the trail. By the time I got to the top, the sun was coming up making the descent down to Stanley Gap road much easier.
Flying down SG road, I passed the game check station and saw Shey passed out on the front porch. Now I only had Wayne to catch. However, I wasn't seeing any tracks in front of me so I was wasn't completely certain he was still in front of me. The next few miles up Cashes Valley were pleasant paved road riding with the exception of Bushy Head climb. Short but brutally steep and loose. By this point I was absolutely starving. I stopped at Jacks River Outfitter store but they were closed. One of the ladies that works there saw me sitting there so she pulled and told me the store would be open at 9. It was 8:30, so I had half an hour. Around 8:45, Shey came rolling in and then around 9, Matt and Brad stopped in. Not planning on stopping again until Dalton, we loaded up.
Shey and I took off and had a great time riding together through the Cohuttas. We saw quite a few people we knew out riding around and probably killed an hour talking to everybody. They were all very interested in how the race was going and to offer encouragement which was greatly appreciated. After climbing mountain after mountain and riding some awsome sections of the Pinhoti trail, we finally made it out to the town of Ramhurst and it was like somebody stuck a flamethower to our backs. The weather went from mild and pleasant in the mountains, to downright suffocating in the valley. We stopped at a gas station to grab water, chocolate milk, and other snacks for the ride over to Dalton. Other than the heat, the ride over to Dalton was very relaxing. Very little traffic and not much head wind which can sometimes be an issue on that stretch.
All the way across to Dalton, I had a serious craving for Taco Bell. All I could think about was those chicken burritos. In Dalton, Shey stopped at subway and I made a beeline for TB which was clear across town. Shey thought it was right down the street, so he grabbed a sandwich and took off to meet me. Little did he know he would be dodging maniac drivers while trying to transport his footlong without dropping it. We finally met up again, ate, and felt like a million bucks. We were ahead of schedule and feeling good about it.
The next and last 70 miles of the route are some of the ruffest, rockiest, trail you will ever ride. And after 250+ miles, it can be a real test of will power. The first section of trail on this segment is pure rocks. We made through this section without mishap until we got to a feature known as The Wall. It was now dark and we got a little out of control coming down it. Shey missed a turn and blew into the woods. Somewhere in here he lost his gps and though looking for it, it was never to be seen again, bummer.
We continued on through the last few sections before the end. They dragged on and on for what seemed like forever. We were seeing weird things in the woods that weren't really there. I was having trouble with falling asleep on the bike. One moment, I would be super hot, then the next, I was freezing. I saw a tree by the trail that was violently shaking even though there was no wind. I did a double take and it was standing perfectly still.
We finally made it to highway 20. I looked at my watch and thought we weren't going to be able to break the record. We decided even so to give it all we had left while trying not to get killed by one of the many semi's on the highway. Since we had ridden so much together, kept each other motivated to keep moving, Shey and I decided it was only right that we finish together. We finished thinking we were 15 minutes behind the record. In our sleep deprived minds, we had forgotten that we had started 15 minutes late. It wasn't until we were eating at Waffle House that we realized we had tied the record to the exact minute. Amazing! After 300+ miles with all the variables and situations that happened, we tied the record! I'm still not sure how that happened but it was awsome!
Congratulations to Ruth Cunningham for beating the previous women's record in 3:03:45! Great job to all those that finished this long and difficult route across Georgia! It is an unbelievable route that just keeps throwing everything at you and yet we keep coming back for more.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Thursday, November 22, 2012
CTR - Living the High Life
The Beginning....
A couple of years ago, Chris Pesce, a friend of mine from Tennessee, had mentioned that it might be fun to race the Colorado trail. I was kind of half listening but also thinking about my next xc race. I really had no idea what bikepacking was all about, so the thought of a multi-day bike race just kind of flew over my head. A little ember, however, was placed in the back of my head.Fast forward to last December. I was driving down the road in my big truck when that little ember suddenly exploded. A few months previous, I had attempted the Trans North Georgia race and flamed out miserably. It was my first futile attempt at bikepack racing and it was a rude awakening. Now, driving down the road, I suddenly remembered my conversation with Chris a couple years before.
The next few days, I did a ton of research, read a lot of blogs, and was in true awe of the magnitude of this event. It was nearly 500 miles in length, huge amounts of climbing over huge mountains, and crazy weather ranging from boiling hot to raging snow storms. But since I'm crazy and have no common sense, I decided it looked like fun and decided to train for it and then give it a go.
The drive out.....
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| hot and exposed |
Since I'm terrified of flying, I decided to make the long drive from Tennessee. It was probably a good thing however, because it gave me time to think about what I was about to embark on. I had also heard about some sweet trails out in western Kansas that I wanted to check out. The trails I wanted to ride were west of Salina about 40 or 50 miles. They are called the Wilson lake trail system and they consist of fantastically wide open riding meaning there are no trees anywhere to be found. Being from the east where trees are in abundance, this is a strange and new concept. The trails were a mix of rocky, technical, to screaming fast, buff singletrack. I rode for about 3 hrs until the 110 degree temps finally melted me into the ground. After an hot but amazing ride, I hopped back in the car and drove the final leg of the trip out to Colorado.
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| who would of thought in Kansas |
When I was driving into Denver, I noticed some huge storms hanging out over the mountains where I would be riding in a couple of days. Oh, the butterflies were starting to flutter. I could only imagine what was going on up in those mountains.
The next day, I rode around a little at the trailhead then went back to the hotel and arranged and rearranged and rearranged and rearranged my gear until I was positive I had it the way I wanted it. I was just trying to figure out what was going to be a luxury and what was a necessity. All of the luxury items got tossed. It's hard to not pack that extra pair of socks or the coffee maker but staying light was a priority as long as I wasn't stupid about it. Then I went to bed and didn't sleep a wink. Oh well, that's bike racing I guess.
Day 1....
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| start of the CTR |
After not sleeping a wink, I got up and drove to the trailhead. I was giddy like a 2 year old who had just eaten too much candy. At 6 am, I had my gear on my bike and was off on segment 1. The first few miles were nice, easy pedaling along the Platte river on a well maintained gravel road. Then the route turned off the road onto some of the buffest, smoothest, funnest trail i'd ever ridden. Somehow I knew things were about to change. I made it to the top of the first climb easily and then headed downhill towards Bear creek. Another climb then a screaming downhill to the Platte river. Segment one complete!
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| view from top of fist climb |
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| burnout! |
Segment 2 climbs up from the Platte into a monstrous burnout. I'd read horror stories about how hot it could be up there from the exposure and lack of trees but there was a fairly strong breeze so I stayed nice and cool.
Although cool, this section required a fair amount of work. After riding some amazing trail in segment 3, I got on the first detour of the day and headed down to Bailey for a refuel.
I knew there would be a gas station in Bailey from my research, but when I got there, the station was closed! Bummer! I was planning on stocking up for the long haul over to Copper Mtn but this was putting a kink in my plans. Being a one gas station town, there weren't too many other options. I noticed a little gift shop down the street so I rolled over to see if they had anything I might need. They had a few candy bars, not much, but it would have to do.
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| Looking across valley towards Georgia Pass |
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atop Georgia Pass after storm |
After leaving Bailey, the route climbed up and over Kenosha Pass, across a beautiful valley on amazing trail, then the long, long climb up to Georgia Pass. Near the top of Georgia, I had my first encounter with an full, all-out lightning storm. Holy Crap! I thought I was toast right there. I just left the bike and ran as fast as I could back down to the relative safety below treeline. I was going to need to be a little more cautious from here on out. After the storm passed, I hiked back up to the bike and made quick work of Georgia before the next storm hit. On my way off Georgia pass, I came across a cooler stocked full of candy and sodas, This was actually a God send because of the closed gas station down in Bailey. I'm not real sure of the whole etiquette thing with having coolers full of snacks out in the middle of the wilderness, I don't think I really like it, but it saved me.
I finally made it to Breckenridge and Gold Hill trailhead around 10 pm totally trash. My plan was to make it over 10 mile range to Copper mountain the first day, but at the base of Ten Mile, I was seeing strange things and falling off my bike, so I decided to call it a day.
Day 2....
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| Looking up to top of Ten Mile |
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| Victory! Top of Ten Mile |
After Camp Hale, we climbed up and over Tennessee pass, rode some more trail, Then rode the highway into Leadville and some much needed food. We found a little burrito truck that was fantastic! I think I alone ate three quesadillos and three burritos before I even started to feel full. It was the first real meal I'd eaten since I left Denver, so i was absolutely famished.
After eating and lounging for a while, the two West Virginia boys decided they were done with their CTR ride (they had run out of time), so we said goodby and I was off with the two Phoenix guys. The next few miles to Twin Lakes were fast and fun. The Phoenix guys, at this point, decided to call it a night. I had big plans of making it to Buena Vista before stopping, so I continued onward. After riding and riding and still not making out to Clear creek, I decided I should stop and live to fight another day. I found a spot under a short pine tree and passed out.
Day 3....
Day three started out with an amazing downhill down to Clear creek and then a quick and pleasant ride into Buena Vista on paved and dirt roads. Once in BV, I made a bee-line to the Subway, ate a footlong and 6 in, then went to the 7eleven to stock up. When I say stock up, I mean pack as much food as I possible can into every available pocket, nook, cranny, and crevice as I possibly can find. I've read in my research that its almost 200 miles to the next easy restock point, so I'm a little nervous. This leads me to probably way over packing on the junk food but I guess better safe than sorry.
On my way out of town looking like an overloaded gypsy wagon, I run into my next two riding partners. Glen and Wayne were absolute beast on there machines! Whether climbing boulder strewn climbs, bombing down hair raising descents, or tackling obnoxious HABs, they were not afraid. I rode with, or should I say, hung on all day to almost highway 50. Finally they decided to stop for water and I decided to keep rolling figuring they would catch me. Unfortunately, I didn't see them again until a couple days later.
After highway 50 is when things really started getting interesting. It started off innocently enough, riding through beautiful old growth forest along Fooses creek. I had noticed the sky getting darker and darker. I didn't think much about it but soon it started to sprinkle. Then it started raining harder and harder eventually becoming a down right deluge. This wasn't the kind of rain that passes after an half hour, it was the kind that could last all night. Fooses climb is notorious for being one of the toughest climbs on the CT. After climbing for a couple hours in the driving rain and getting wetter and colder, I finally decided to bivy under a pine tree. I had wanted to make it to Marshall pass before stopping for the day, but the weather conditions were just getting too difficult for my tired state. This is when my phone got wet and I was no longer able to take any pictures.
After laying there shivering for about three hours, I saw two sets of lights coming up the trail. Could it be Wayne and Glenn? No, but I wasn't real sure who it was. I was a little ways off the trail so they didn't see me under the tree. I thought to myself, 'if they can hike up into that storm, then I can too'! After mustering up the nerve to put on my wet shoes and climb out into the rain I was off hiking into the unknown.
Before long, I was hiking up above tree-line and it was starting to dump snow. Snow in August, how crazy is this! Man this trail seems to be never-ending and going straight up. Eventually, I would top out on the famous Monarch Crest trail. At that point, the full moon popped out and I got the most unbelievable view of the surrounding mountain ranges from 12000 feet. I looked at my thermometer, 32 degrees. Better get going, very cold.
Riding down towards Marshall pass, I happened to catch a glimpse of two riders on the ground in their bivies. I stopped when one of them said 'hey, who goes there?'. Wow, it was my buddy from Florida, Chad Parker, who I'd been trying to catch since I'd started. He and, the one and only, Ethan Passant, were the ones I'd seen hiking up into the storm. I had had enough of the rain, snow, and wind, so I once again pulled out my bivy and lightly passed out with them.
Day 4....
Sometime before daylight, I woke up to Chad walking around saying he was freezing. So he packed up and took off down the trail. Before long, Ethan was up also and gone leaving me laying there with a sharp rock sticking right into my hip. I could barely move. It was my first time sleeping above 10000 feet and I wasn't coping to well. It was like I just couldn't catch my breath. I hadn't noticed this shortness of breath until now, and I was fine once I was on my bike, it was just when I laid down that I had trouble breathing. Finally, I made myself crawl out into the frigid air, I packed my soaking wet gear, and headed down to Marshall.
The sun was absolutely wonderful at Marshall pass! The cows were happily munching on there grass. I decided to hang out and try to dry some of my gear and soak up some rays. I hung out there way too long. After freezing all night, I just wanted to be lazy. But I needed to get going, it was a long ways to Spring Creek pass, my next destination.
The next segment was absolutely horrible! It's called Sargent's Mesa and strikes fear in the hearts of even the most hardened bikepackers. It's basically a motorcycle trail that does not follow the contour of the land, but instead, goes straight up and down and is full of huge boulders and ruts. I think its an absolute waste of the CT and hopefully it will be able to be rerouted in the future.
Anyway, I caught up to Chad Parker, who was absolutely having a blast just being out in the Colorado wilderness. We rode together for awhile until we got to Tank Seven creek and filled up on water since it would be quite a few miles before another opportunity to refill. At this point, Jesse Jakomait passed us. I'm still in disbelief at how fast these cats were riding this trail! In the end, Jefe, Ethan, and Jesse finished right at four days. Truly unbelieveable!
Chad and I ended up splitting ways since we were riding different paces. I kept riding a little and hiking a lot. The trail just never seemed to ever get any flow. I got stuck in several more storms all of which had big hail and terrifying lightning. On one of the rocky downhills, I got a little out of control, kicked up a huge rock into my frame, and CRACK! I stopped to survey the damage and, sure enough, my bike was broken. The rock had jumped up into the direct-mount front derailleur and snapped it and the seat tube. After all that work, my trip was done. I limped out to Apple's camp and hung out with some hikers for a while trying to decide what to do. I decided to set up camp, get a good night's sleep, and decide what to do in the morning when I could think more clearly.
In the morning, Chad, Dan Miller-Lionberg, Wayne, Glenn, and Cat Morrison had arrived. After hanging around camp for a couple hours with everyone, they decided to continue on and I decided to make the call I didn't want to. I hate quitting, but I was just to afraid my machine wouldn't make it through the Cataract section. Fortunately, it was only 30 downhill miles to Gunnison, so I made the decision and my trip was done.
In the end....
The swelling in my feet went down after a few days, saddle chaffing healed up, but to this day I still can't stop thinking about what I experienced in Colorado. It was truly an experience that will never be forgotten.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Huracan 300
I've been meaning to start a blog for some time now, but every time I sit down to write an entry, something always comes up. Now I that I'm in recovery mode from the Huracan, I've got a little time.
I've had my eye on the Huracan for some time now. Reading others accounts of the race just kept adding to my desire to race the Huracan. I'd ridden areas such as Santos and Alifia, so I knew there was some high quality singletrack in Florida, I was just a little leary about what lie in between.
After waiting weeks and weeks in anticipation, Huracan weekend finally rolled around. I grabbed all my gear and bike and headed south for Florida. After sitting in a backup for an hour and a half trying to get into Atlanta, I finally made through one of the biggest cruxes of the entire weekend. I made it through Atlanta in one piece and the rest of the trip was pretty much smooth sailing. Before I knew it, I was sitting at my campsite with Chad Parker going over different setups, talking race strategy, and generally just having a good time shooting the bull.
After a restless, sleepless night with trains rolling by all night long (those of you that have camped at Santos know what I'm talking about), race day was finally here. Chad and I rolled out at 6:40 for a quick breakfast at Cracker Barrel, a pit stop at Publix for last minute supplies, and we were ready to go. The start was in front of Greenway Cycles across the road from Santos. Karlos went over some last minute details, had everyone toot there whistles, while I was still trying to remember the mystical sequence of buttons to push on my Spot unit. The GPS track was tracking perfectly. I was a little worried about that since I'd never used an Edge 500 for tracking purposes before, but it worked beautifully. And then we were off.
Karlos had called for a neutral start until the first singletrack but it was spread much more quickly then that. Chad, Chris, and a third rider were feeling good and before long they were out of sight. I found myself in a group consisting of real heavy hitters. Shey Lidner, who needs no introduction, Kelly Klett, hundred mile master, and another rider (I'm bad with names), were absolutely flying along. In a flash, we were through the first section of singletrack and back out onto a mix of pavement and sand. Once we got into the Ocala National Forest the roads really straightnened out and we caught a glimpse of the front runners. They had managed to get a gap of about a quarter mile and so dropped the hammer. At this point, I happened to look around and noticed it was just the two of us in pursuit. Eventually, we were able to make contact with the front group and then things finally slowed down for a bit.
After many more miles seemingly, endless forest road, we got to our first real hard section of the course. The thing about riding in Florida is that all there is is sand. Lots of sand! Florida may lack in geological ups and downs, but really makes up for it in really deep sand. It was now Shey, Chad, and I in the lead and we got into our first real section of sand. It was probably five miles of the thick stuff! We finally figured out that if we rode slightly off-trail in the weeds, it was slightly more solid. Then the weeds would end in sand and you'd have to try and wade across the sand to the next patch of weeds. This would continue until we finally made to the next section of singletrack.
Paisley is an awsome section of singletrack that gives one a real feeling of isolation. I kept thinking to myself that if you got lost out there, it would be very rough, very easy to die of dehydration. Where I'm from in Tennessee, there are stream crossings everywhere, but here in Florida, there really are very, very few water sources. After Paisley, we found a water spigot at a church retreat and loaded up knowing there may not be any more water for a long while.
After leaving the retreat, we rolled quickly through Seminole forest, Rock Springs, and weikawa singletrack. We got to a spot on some doubletrack where the gps track suddenly veered had left straight into the woods. Shey and I looked at each dived blindly into the forest. Eventually, we popped out onto one of the most beautiful and scary river crossing I've ever seen! The water was crystal clear and cold. I could just see a huge alligator lurking in the weeds, grabbing my leg, and pulling me under in a death roll. After some carefully surveying the surroundings, we quickly waded across to safety on the other side. Its amazing the rejuvenating effect cold water has on tired muscles! Despite the fear of being eaten, the river crossing was amazing to the body! Even though we wanted to hang out there for the rest of the day, there was work to be done and we were off riding more amazing singletrack before eventually getting out on pavement and back to civilization.
After a few miles of pavement riding, we stopped at a convenience store in Zellwood to top off supplies. It was around 4:45 in the afternoon. After a few minutes of taking a break, we took off for Apopka preserve.
Apopka was were things started to unravel for me. It started off fine. Shey and I had a great time watching the gators chasing fish and glad we weren't rolling through there in the dark. Eventually, we got away from the canals and got onto a wide grass trail. I noticed that my stomach was starting to feel a little funny. I knew I had been drinking and eating regularly, so thought it was just a passing gas pain. The grass eventually gave way to completely, unrideable sand. In Florida, they make these till rows to keep wild fires from spreading uncontrollably. This trail obviously had just been tilled very recently because it was thick. In the middle of our several mile hike-a bike-through-snad, my stomach completely turned upside down. After pretty much crawling the last mile, we finally made it back out to sweet pavemant. Thats where Shey and I split ways. Shey was feeling great and I told him not to wait up, maybe i'd see him later on in the night.
After sitting on the side of the road for 15 to 20 minutes, my stomach finally slowed enough to ride. On and on I rode. It seemed like I was getting to some hills but I was in Florida and there are no hills. But yes, there were hills. Not tall, but very steep and after 130+ miles and a fragile stomach, they seemed like the rockies. Somewhere in the hills, I spotted an orange tree with lots of oranges. Of course, I couldn't resist and ate a few of them. A huge mistake I will never make again!
I finally made it to Clermont and spotted a McDonalds where I could probably grab some quick junk food. Guess Shey had the same idea, he was just headed out into the night looking fresh as ever. I wished him luck and went inside. There was a man and his son in line and they just couldn't decide what they wanted. They would place their order then change it, then change it back with a little variation. This went on for at least ten minutes. To top it off, it was the first night on the job for the cashier. While I was standing there in line, my world started to spin. I couldn't make it. I had to make a beeline for the restroom and up came all the oranges and whatever else was in there. When I finally composed myself and came back out, there were 15 people in line, so I gave on trying to shove any food done even though I really needed the calories. I didn't any more food in until the next day.
The next miles were just a blur. Every so often, I would have to stop and yack but I was still moving forward. I don't really remember to much until I got to Center Grade road. It must be the Friday night hanging spot because every hoo-haw in central Florida seemed to be out there. That road is farely deep sand and it must be great fun to take a big truck drift around every curve at 70 mph. I could hear them coming before I saw them, so I had a chance to jump to safety in the woods. I finally was so tired of doing this over and over, being sick, and scared of getting ran over, I finally laid down somewhere in the woods and instantly passed out. Sometime in the middle of the night, I woke up shivering uncontrollably, so I threw on some leg and arm warmers, and passed back out again.
The next time I woke up, it was starting to get light out. Crap, I'd slept for 6 hrs, 4 hrs longer than I wanted too! I did, however, feel 100% better, so I jumped on the bike and off I was. It was pretty much a mix of sand, limestone, and pavement until I got to the Withlacoochee trail. The Coochee is a rail trail that is wonderful pavement. There happened to be some sort of road race going on, so there were these wonderful sag stopped stocked with fruit, cookies, danishes, and gatorade. I hadn't had any food since the day before when I ate the oranges and they all came up, so I was pretty withered. The aid workers must have noticed and told me to eat as much as possible. It was a real life saver!
Next up was Croom singletrack. I'd ridden there before, so I had some idea of what to expect. However, the last time I rode there, I was fresh. This time, I had 200+ miles of sand in my legs. The steep ups and downs were absolutely brutal! There are a couple places on the trail, if you feel off the side, you could break something serious or worse, so there was quite a lot of careful, slow riding. Eventually, I popped back out of the woods onto a limestone road which led back to the Withlacoochee.
While riding along the rail trail, out popped Kari Lidner from a gas station. She had just drank a coke and the caffeine was kicking in. The circle was complete. I'd started the race chasing Shey and now I was struggling to keep up with Kari who had been riding all night! With renewed energy, we quickly got off the cooche and entered Potts preserve where it rained on us a little making the sand just sticky enough to stick to everything. At the end of Potts, we popped out along a canal. At this point, my body decided it needed food and lots of food. We finally got to Hwy 200 and there was a beautiful, glorious subway. Kari was anxious to get back and see Shey and so she continued on. The footlong chicken sub I got was one of the all-time best meals I've ever eaten, seriously!
Finally feeling awsome, I took off down 200, turned left, and there was Kari walking around in the middle of the road. She wasn't quite sure where the gps was leading her. We figured out that we had to hop a fence and then continued on through, you guessed it, more sand. I just put my head down and just put one pedal in front of the other knowing some beautiful singletrack of Santos was not far off. Somewhere along the way, I lost track of Kari. I waited for her for a while but never saw her. I had seen another racer at the subway (can't remember his name), so I knew he was not far behind. If something happened to Kari, I knew he was right behind her. I later found out she really just hates sand.
The trip through Santos was uneventful, just endless, flowy singletrack. I eventually popped out at the trailhead and the end of this amazing trip. I finished in 1 day 9 h 45 min, good enough for 4th place. Great job to all those who finished this unexpectedly, hard route! I am already looking forward next year.
I've had my eye on the Huracan for some time now. Reading others accounts of the race just kept adding to my desire to race the Huracan. I'd ridden areas such as Santos and Alifia, so I knew there was some high quality singletrack in Florida, I was just a little leary about what lie in between.
After waiting weeks and weeks in anticipation, Huracan weekend finally rolled around. I grabbed all my gear and bike and headed south for Florida. After sitting in a backup for an hour and a half trying to get into Atlanta, I finally made through one of the biggest cruxes of the entire weekend. I made it through Atlanta in one piece and the rest of the trip was pretty much smooth sailing. Before I knew it, I was sitting at my campsite with Chad Parker going over different setups, talking race strategy, and generally just having a good time shooting the bull.
After a restless, sleepless night with trains rolling by all night long (those of you that have camped at Santos know what I'm talking about), race day was finally here. Chad and I rolled out at 6:40 for a quick breakfast at Cracker Barrel, a pit stop at Publix for last minute supplies, and we were ready to go. The start was in front of Greenway Cycles across the road from Santos. Karlos went over some last minute details, had everyone toot there whistles, while I was still trying to remember the mystical sequence of buttons to push on my Spot unit. The GPS track was tracking perfectly. I was a little worried about that since I'd never used an Edge 500 for tracking purposes before, but it worked beautifully. And then we were off.
Karlos had called for a neutral start until the first singletrack but it was spread much more quickly then that. Chad, Chris, and a third rider were feeling good and before long they were out of sight. I found myself in a group consisting of real heavy hitters. Shey Lidner, who needs no introduction, Kelly Klett, hundred mile master, and another rider (I'm bad with names), were absolutely flying along. In a flash, we were through the first section of singletrack and back out onto a mix of pavement and sand. Once we got into the Ocala National Forest the roads really straightnened out and we caught a glimpse of the front runners. They had managed to get a gap of about a quarter mile and so dropped the hammer. At this point, I happened to look around and noticed it was just the two of us in pursuit. Eventually, we were able to make contact with the front group and then things finally slowed down for a bit.
After many more miles seemingly, endless forest road, we got to our first real hard section of the course. The thing about riding in Florida is that all there is is sand. Lots of sand! Florida may lack in geological ups and downs, but really makes up for it in really deep sand. It was now Shey, Chad, and I in the lead and we got into our first real section of sand. It was probably five miles of the thick stuff! We finally figured out that if we rode slightly off-trail in the weeds, it was slightly more solid. Then the weeds would end in sand and you'd have to try and wade across the sand to the next patch of weeds. This would continue until we finally made to the next section of singletrack.
Paisley is an awsome section of singletrack that gives one a real feeling of isolation. I kept thinking to myself that if you got lost out there, it would be very rough, very easy to die of dehydration. Where I'm from in Tennessee, there are stream crossings everywhere, but here in Florida, there really are very, very few water sources. After Paisley, we found a water spigot at a church retreat and loaded up knowing there may not be any more water for a long while.
After leaving the retreat, we rolled quickly through Seminole forest, Rock Springs, and weikawa singletrack. We got to a spot on some doubletrack where the gps track suddenly veered had left straight into the woods. Shey and I looked at each dived blindly into the forest. Eventually, we popped out onto one of the most beautiful and scary river crossing I've ever seen! The water was crystal clear and cold. I could just see a huge alligator lurking in the weeds, grabbing my leg, and pulling me under in a death roll. After some carefully surveying the surroundings, we quickly waded across to safety on the other side. Its amazing the rejuvenating effect cold water has on tired muscles! Despite the fear of being eaten, the river crossing was amazing to the body! Even though we wanted to hang out there for the rest of the day, there was work to be done and we were off riding more amazing singletrack before eventually getting out on pavement and back to civilization.
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| Shey Lidner and I somewhere just before Zellwood. photo courtesy: Chad Parker |
After a few miles of pavement riding, we stopped at a convenience store in Zellwood to top off supplies. It was around 4:45 in the afternoon. After a few minutes of taking a break, we took off for Apopka preserve.
Apopka was were things started to unravel for me. It started off fine. Shey and I had a great time watching the gators chasing fish and glad we weren't rolling through there in the dark. Eventually, we got away from the canals and got onto a wide grass trail. I noticed that my stomach was starting to feel a little funny. I knew I had been drinking and eating regularly, so thought it was just a passing gas pain. The grass eventually gave way to completely, unrideable sand. In Florida, they make these till rows to keep wild fires from spreading uncontrollably. This trail obviously had just been tilled very recently because it was thick. In the middle of our several mile hike-a bike-through-snad, my stomach completely turned upside down. After pretty much crawling the last mile, we finally made it back out to sweet pavemant. Thats where Shey and I split ways. Shey was feeling great and I told him not to wait up, maybe i'd see him later on in the night.
After sitting on the side of the road for 15 to 20 minutes, my stomach finally slowed enough to ride. On and on I rode. It seemed like I was getting to some hills but I was in Florida and there are no hills. But yes, there were hills. Not tall, but very steep and after 130+ miles and a fragile stomach, they seemed like the rockies. Somewhere in the hills, I spotted an orange tree with lots of oranges. Of course, I couldn't resist and ate a few of them. A huge mistake I will never make again!
I finally made it to Clermont and spotted a McDonalds where I could probably grab some quick junk food. Guess Shey had the same idea, he was just headed out into the night looking fresh as ever. I wished him luck and went inside. There was a man and his son in line and they just couldn't decide what they wanted. They would place their order then change it, then change it back with a little variation. This went on for at least ten minutes. To top it off, it was the first night on the job for the cashier. While I was standing there in line, my world started to spin. I couldn't make it. I had to make a beeline for the restroom and up came all the oranges and whatever else was in there. When I finally composed myself and came back out, there were 15 people in line, so I gave on trying to shove any food done even though I really needed the calories. I didn't any more food in until the next day.
The next miles were just a blur. Every so often, I would have to stop and yack but I was still moving forward. I don't really remember to much until I got to Center Grade road. It must be the Friday night hanging spot because every hoo-haw in central Florida seemed to be out there. That road is farely deep sand and it must be great fun to take a big truck drift around every curve at 70 mph. I could hear them coming before I saw them, so I had a chance to jump to safety in the woods. I finally was so tired of doing this over and over, being sick, and scared of getting ran over, I finally laid down somewhere in the woods and instantly passed out. Sometime in the middle of the night, I woke up shivering uncontrollably, so I threw on some leg and arm warmers, and passed back out again.
The next time I woke up, it was starting to get light out. Crap, I'd slept for 6 hrs, 4 hrs longer than I wanted too! I did, however, feel 100% better, so I jumped on the bike and off I was. It was pretty much a mix of sand, limestone, and pavement until I got to the Withlacoochee trail. The Coochee is a rail trail that is wonderful pavement. There happened to be some sort of road race going on, so there were these wonderful sag stopped stocked with fruit, cookies, danishes, and gatorade. I hadn't had any food since the day before when I ate the oranges and they all came up, so I was pretty withered. The aid workers must have noticed and told me to eat as much as possible. It was a real life saver!
Next up was Croom singletrack. I'd ridden there before, so I had some idea of what to expect. However, the last time I rode there, I was fresh. This time, I had 200+ miles of sand in my legs. The steep ups and downs were absolutely brutal! There are a couple places on the trail, if you feel off the side, you could break something serious or worse, so there was quite a lot of careful, slow riding. Eventually, I popped back out of the woods onto a limestone road which led back to the Withlacoochee.
While riding along the rail trail, out popped Kari Lidner from a gas station. She had just drank a coke and the caffeine was kicking in. The circle was complete. I'd started the race chasing Shey and now I was struggling to keep up with Kari who had been riding all night! With renewed energy, we quickly got off the cooche and entered Potts preserve where it rained on us a little making the sand just sticky enough to stick to everything. At the end of Potts, we popped out along a canal. At this point, my body decided it needed food and lots of food. We finally got to Hwy 200 and there was a beautiful, glorious subway. Kari was anxious to get back and see Shey and so she continued on. The footlong chicken sub I got was one of the all-time best meals I've ever eaten, seriously!
Finally feeling awsome, I took off down 200, turned left, and there was Kari walking around in the middle of the road. She wasn't quite sure where the gps was leading her. We figured out that we had to hop a fence and then continued on through, you guessed it, more sand. I just put my head down and just put one pedal in front of the other knowing some beautiful singletrack of Santos was not far off. Somewhere along the way, I lost track of Kari. I waited for her for a while but never saw her. I had seen another racer at the subway (can't remember his name), so I knew he was not far behind. If something happened to Kari, I knew he was right behind her. I later found out she really just hates sand.
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