Truth in Advertising - Santa Cruz’s Hellride 5
“Living in Hell”
Hell started for me about three months ago. Out on one of my regular mountain bike rides I was noticing how my buddies were enjoying themselves while I was struggling to keep up and sweating profusely. I went to the doctor after 6 weeks of feeling progressively worse and he told me I was probably stressed. Another month goes by and I know something is wrong, so I request a test for Lyme disease, as I’ve found a few ticks on me this year, and by this time I can barely throw a leg over the bike. A week later the report comes back positive, and they put me on a four week course of Doxycycline which makes me feel even worse than the Lyme itself and disallows me from going in the sun or drinking alcohol, unless I want my skin to blister or a host of other nasties.
In the meantime I am working overtime contacting every person I know telling them about Hellride 5. I have to explain the concept to most everyone, and they still look at me sideways, wondering why I want to do all this work to win a bike. I try to explain it is about the adventure not the bike, but they just don’t seem to get it.
I have made the final 16, but need people to vote for me with their email address to get into the final four. The voting is going well, but I have bounced around from 4th to 1st to 3rd, and I am neglecting other duties as I contact more people and beg them for their help. Friends, family, coworkers, former coworkers, former friends, whatever. I am posting on message boards, calling the local newspapers, and even thinking of handing out flyers on the corner of 42nd and 5th during lunch.
There I am, sitting at home for three weeks off the bike, hiding from the sun and sleeping in as much as possible. With less than a week to go before the Hellride I see a specialist and he suggests that if I really have to go to “this thing” that I stop taking the meds and when I get back I can start the whole course over again from the beginning. Well after asking for people to vote for me for over a month to go to “this thing”, which was hard in its own right, there was no way I was skipping the ride.
So I stop taking the medicine and go out for a two hour ride. It takes three days for me to recover. I get a second ride in a few days before I leave for California, this time for three hours. Again it takes me three days to recover. I am in trouble.
“Getting to Hell”
It is Wednesday August 30th, I wake up at 5:15 am, so I can be on the road by 6:15 am headed towards JFK. I get dropped off at JFK only to realize that my 8 am flight is out of LaGuardia. I call my ride back, no answer. Grab a cab and sit in morning NYC traffic with 35 minutes before my flight leaves. Get to LaGuardia “One minute too late” the lady at the check in tells me so I get put on standby for the next flight out at 10:30. Upon landing in Denver I learn the 2 pm connecting flight to Sacramento is broken down. I spend the next three and a half hours lugging my 30 pounds of carry on luggage with me around the terminal, too spooked to check it after hearing JFK lost 1,000 pieces of luggage that morning. We finally board the plane at 6 pm. But wait, there is still something wrong. It gets fixed, but another half an hour has passed. We land in Sacramento just after 9 pm, and I pick up my rental car and head out to stay with my friend Rick in Nevada City. I misunderstand his directions and almost end up in Reno. I finally arrive at 12:30 am (New York time) at his place. Have dinner, chat a bit, and go to sleep at 2:30 am after 18 hours of travel time.
The next day, Rick and I do a really fun mountain bike loop. I ride his Santa Cruz Blur to get the mojo going, and then later that day drive to Downieville. The road is crazy steep, with little switchbacks all the way down to the South Yuba River, then it crosses the river and mirrors itself on the other side climbing back up. Great for a road bike or a Porsche, but the rental Kia is at its limit.
[Near Nevada City]
Almost an hour later I am driving some super twisty tight turns following the Yuba river on my right and sheer rock walls on my left. I pass by a pimped out BMW and a van pulled over by a cop. Must be some LA types. I wouldn’t have thought there would be a cop out here, so I make a mental note to take it easy on the way out of town after the event.
Finally I pull into Downieville, population 300.
I walk into Yuba Expeditions, our gracious host for the event, and see a guy sitting by the topographical map table, sporting a full white beard, it’s Doug, my one of my fellow Hellriders.
We talk briefly, and then he shows me where we will be staying. A nice little (400 sq feet would be generous) three bedroom (wait, aren’t there four men competing in this thing?) house with a deck over looking the Downie River. I swiftly take the only remaining room (all 38 sq feet of it) and leave the other two contestants, Matt, and Kurt, to battle it out for the couch.
I head over to the loft above the bike shop where Mike Ferrentino, Editor-at-Large for Bike Magazine, and Santa Cruz Bicycle’s head Honcho of the Hellride event is getting ready to go out on his motorcycle and mark part of the course. Of the female Hellriders, Kristen (The Butcher) is there already, Kelly and her Wolf dog arrive shortly later. Last report on Vanessa was that she is driving down from Canada (and stuck behind a landslide north of Vancouver that may take 5 days to clear). And I thought my commute sucked. No one knows where the “other” Erin is.
Kurt from Canada arrives, and we head down to check out the bikes we will be riding in the competition. There they are, a van full of brand new 2009 Nomads. Redesigned frame with 1.5 inch headtube, carbon rocker link. Oooooh sweet. They are stored in a Ford Econline van that looks like it just snuck across the Mexican border, complete with a home grown window tint job. Red, Green, Blue, and Black bikes with Rockshok Lyrik forks, Avid Juicy Ultimate brakes, SRAM X.O kit and the newly rebranded Crank Brothers Joplin hydraulic seatpost. It is like Christmas in July.
[The van down by the river]
“Sick and Hurt”
I’m starving so I walk around town and stop into a place for a ham sandwich. After I give the guy my money, he says “15 to 20 minutes.” What? For a ham sandwich? Whatever, I’ll wait, because where am I going to go? 20 minutes later I eat the nasty little bugger and get full on sick from it. Damn, Doug must have gotten to the cook and spiked the meat. I’ll get you back Doug!
Back at the shop, Mike Ferrentino is back from marking the course, but there’s been trouble. Josh, who was helping mark the course, has broken his leg. It took them over four hours to get down from where they were back to town, and they were on motorcycles! The leg doesn’t look bad, but Josh can’t walk on it, and Mike says that Josh looked to be passing out several times on the ride down the mountain. Fortunately someone has some Vicadin and Advil at the ready. Kelly, not the Hellrider, but Mike’s girlfriend and the driver of the BMW I saw pulled over earlier, has been making margarita’s all night, and they are helping Josh forget the pain. Several hours later, Josh is still sitting where they dropped him off at the back of the shop after the accident, enjoying the night’s festivities.
[Josh (in blue) recounting his beat down. Mike Ferrentino far right]
It is getting late on Thursday, and the beers continue to open with rapid regularity. I of course, not only show restraint but some intelligence in refraining from the sudsy liquid before the 12 hour day in the saddle, still to come. The Santa Cruz Bicycle staff has no such worries, but stay in control by closing out the night with Ginger Beer. Odd.
Matthew and Vanessa arrive before midnight (3 am for me) and we finally close out the day. Tomorrow will be the Feats of Strength competition in which we the contestants, will battle each other in a series of yet to be finalized challenges which will give us time bonuses in our race against the Pros. The staff has been dreaming up ridiculous concepts all night long, although I am hopeful it is just an attempt to spook us, as there is talk about heavy rocks and the river.
“The Preride”
The bacon breakfast bonanza begins early on Friday. Mark Weir, the professional rider, has arrived, as well as more Santa Cruz Bicycle employees. The pancakes are thick and perfectly cooked. I eat about twice what I normally would and top it off with a few strips of bacon, some eggs and a glass of OJ.
Eric, (Hightower) the mechanic for Santa Cruz, is downstairs putting on saddles and pedals for the contestants and adjusting each Nomad to our exacting needs. I pick out the new liquid blue color, which really picks up the light and looks killer, despite my secret want for the new racing red color, of which none are in my size. Doug sees the new liquid blue Nomad and requests a swap. He has been in Downieville for a day or two and has ridden in his nuclear green Nomad over the Downieville trails already, as it arrived early for him. A tough decision is made and I swap with Doug, with the only request that if he sees me dead in the trail to tell my wife that it was over quickly, and I felt no pain. Ha, right!
[Butcher making, what else, Bacon!]
Mike Ferrentino announces to us that the Feats of Strength competition will begin at 2 pm. Kurt and Matt decide to take the shuttle to the top of the mountain and test out their new bikes on the downhill course, which I hear will take over an hour or more to complete. I’m feeling run down so I see if anyone wants to go for an easy spin. Anyone? Bueller? Anyone? Some uncertain “Yeahs” so I’m off on my own.
I ask Doug where the trailhead is and he gives me directions, which like all directions I’m given, I summarily ignore. Instead I take “Something something mine road” which is a paved dead end. Not until it climbs up so steeply that I am unable to continue riding do I stop and reassess the situation. I push my bike up the hill a bit more then decide to go back to town and actually pay attention to the directions this time. I start to worry about just how steep things are going to get.
On my second trip out of town I find the entrance to “First Divide” which is a little steep in the first 100 meters but becomes a nice steady grade up, following a small river. The trails are dry and dusty, the rocks sharp and loose. A fall off to the narrow trail in certain areas would mean death when you reached the rocky river two hundred feet below. I ride for about an hour total and all feels good with the bike, so I return to town to prepare mentally for the Feats of Strength.
I quickly jump in the river to cool down my legs, and see that Rachel Lloyd the other pro rider has arrived and is out for a swim. She gives me some pointers on proper swimming technique and then heads up to the shop for the competition that is about to begin.
“Feats of Strength”
The first Feats of Strength test is the swing bike. A contraption I didn’t know existed. Basically you don’t steer it with the handle bars, but instead you use your hips to guide it via a pivoting rear wheel. It is not easy. Oh, and no brakes. I give it a test run and dismiss any chance of making it through the slalom course that has been setup in the Yuba Expeditions parking lot. Regardless of my defeatist attitude I make it through the course with the best time!
Next is a challenge I think I actually have a chance with. Weir had been demonstrating a type of slack line that he has tied between two trees just about three feet off the ground. Basically like a high wire, but made out of a heavy duty fabric. He jumps easily onto it, walks the 15 feet to the other end, pivots on one foot and returns to the beginning. Easy.
Here is where all on my log riding and balance skills will come into play. I look at the others who haven’t ridden a skinny in their life and laugh. Suckers!
Reality sets in when I jump up on the rope and fall immediately off. As do all of the others. No one has gotten more than a few steps, so the challenge is changed to who can stand still on the rope the longest. I make a tactical error by walking out too far and last 1.7 seconds. Matthew wins this challenge and we all hang our heads low as Weir glares at us with disgust for our pathetic results.
The sun is getting intense, but fortunately we are spared the 90 degree temperatures and 90% humidity that I left back in New York. To me this is the nicest weather I’ve felt in two months. But we are again in the middle of the parking lot. This time, we are to let the air out of our tires and swap the tubes from front to rear and rear to front. A skill of mine that has gotten rusty since I went to tubeless about three years ago. Man I hate tubes.
Sweat is dripping now, and the challenge starts. I nearly rip off the X.O rear derailleur trying to get the wheel off. Despite, or because of being a Maxle user in the past, I ignore Mike Ferrentino’s instructions on how to operate the quick release lever at the beginning of the challenge and let my excitement take over, nearly disassembling the whole thing unnecessarily. The Weirwolf tires are brand new, and with the exception of a pair of Michelin’s on a road bike back in the 1990s, they are the hardest tires to get on and off the rim I have ever seen. Tire levers are snapping left and right, mostly because we are all freaking out instead of taking the tire off the bead. Doug and I are about even when, yep, pinch flat due to using the levers. Doug takes round three.
The next challenge is a slingshot, sharp shooting challenge, again in the heat of mid day sun. Each person had 10 chances to take out three cans, and I must have been less than six inches away on seven of my shots but come up empty. Doug and Kurt both get one hit and then go into a tie breaker that Kurt wins.
[Sharp shooting your eye out]
Onto the final challenge, which I had heard about and was not looking forward to. We are to each grab a large 30 pound stone and carry it out into the river. Then we would all hold our breath and simultaneously sink to the bottom to see who could stay down the longest. Fortunately, the river wasn’t running too fast or deep, so my lack of swimming skill didn’t come into play. Under we go, and I can hear the splashing of small stones the organizers are throwing in our direction to mess with our heads. I can’t open my eyes, so I just stay there until I think I will pass out, which happens to be just about 30 seconds. Resurfacing, everyone else is already up, or so I think. Doug is still under. Damn! We make him come up, eventually, and he tells us he could have stayed under there for up to two minutes. Final score, Doug two wins, the other men one each. Vanessa leads the women with three wins, good enough for an hour and thirty bonus over the pros.
Even though that is it for the challenges, we all decide to change out the rim strip in our wheels as people are getting flats just riding on the pavement, and we discover the loose strip is the cause. That means taking those super tight tires off again. Some people have a hard time even when it isn’t part of the challenge, and an hour passes before we are done.
Then it’s off to dinner at The Grubsteak Resturant, where I am served the largest salad and biggest plate of spaghetti I have ever seen. Even though I try to eat as much as possible I barely put a dent into it. Weir, on the other hand, is done with his pesto chicken pasta trough and devouring the largest piece of Mud Pie I have ever seen. It would have cost you $40 in a New York restaurant for a slice of cake that big.
By the time dinner is over, it is decided that Karaoke will have to wait till after the Hellride (One final chance to gain some precious time bonuses.) as it is time to review the course in detail.
[From left to right, Weir, Scott, and Josh tell me how much they love Showtime]
“Preparing”
Back at the shop Mike Ferrentino is reviewing a topographical map of the area and describing each section of the two 30+ mile loops and what we will encounter. He points out where the natural springs are for us to pick up more water, and if we are desperate, which stream would likely be free of Giardia. He makes mention several times about keeping safety in mind at all times. As we have seen with Josh’s broken leg, it is not advisable to get hurt out there. Even if you are lucky enough to get down to town in three hours, it is still another couple of hours to any real medical facility if you aren’t getting helicoptered out.
The opening climb will likely take over two and a half hours for us to get to the first high point of the day and that was less than a third of the total climbing we will be doing. The first loop will begin and end in town, where we will be coerced into quitting before going out on the second loop. If we have it in us, we will head out again for another 30 mile loop on all different trails. If we are seriously struggling, or if the organizers think we won’t make it back before dark, we will get pulled from the ride.
All told it will be 66 miles of riding with 14,500 feet of vertical elevation gain, and most likely take 12 hours for us to complete. All on a 32 pound, six inch travel full suspension bike with a single 36 tooth front chain ring. The trails we will be riding will be difficult and dangerous, and we will be going in the opposite direction that any sane person would ride them.
[Mike Ferrentino reviews the course for the next day]
We go to sleep before midnight with all of this weighing on our minds and get up at 5:15 the next day, as the ride is to start exactly at 7 am. All sorts of last minute decisions are being made at out little house. Matthew was so concerned about the lack of water on the course, he is thinking about putting two 100 ounce bladders in his camelback. I on the other hand have only had a 70 oz bladder in my camelback, and the psychosis begins. “What if I run out of water?” “Where are those natural springs?” “What if I get the beaver fever from drinking from pond water?”
Too full from last night’s dinner to eat breakfast, I have two slices of toast with some jelly. Doug, meanwhile, is feeling the effects of last night’s dinner selection. Payback for spiking my ham sandwich.
At 6:55 am we gather in front of Yuba Expeditions to take a group photo before the ride. I noticed my saddle feels like it was way too forward and tilted downwards. Have I been sabatoged? Does Mike Ferrentino want to make sure that I don’t win so he won’t have to pay my travel expenses? Obviously the stress is getting to me, but we have less than two minutes to go before we leave, and we are in the middle of a photo session so I will need to correct it later.
“Finally Hellride Begins”
Exactly at 7 am we are off. Just the eight of us, still somewhat groggy, but nervous at the same time. The whole town is asleep, and the only sound to be heard is our Weirwolf tires buzzing the pavement as we make our way to the trailhead at First Divide.
[Matthew (left) and Kurt head out of town]
[Vanessa’s red hot, Nomad}
Unlike my XC racing tactic, which is to redline myself from the gun and hold off all chasers, I sit in the back and try to take in the whole scene. Still, my poor saddle position is playing on my mind, so I stop to adjust it. Kelly helps me out with a multi tool, as I can’t find mine. Whoops! Five minutes later, it is still was messed up, and she stops to help again. Just as she is handing over her tool I find mine buried in my 15-pound pack. Off she goes, and there I am, alone at the back.
My mental state takes a minor blow, but I am realistic about my chances to even finish, never mind beat the other contestants, knowing how run down my body is from the last few months. Despite that, once I got going again, and the more I pedal, the better I feel. Actually, it is the best I have felt for a long time, so I get myself into a rhythm and start really enjoying the technical rocky climb.
After about an hour I catch up to Doug at the beginning of the Third Divide trail, who had stopped to enjoy a snack. The trail is steep in certain sections and we are forced off of our bikes every few minutes. We stay close together for a bit until I decide to push on to see who else I can catch up to.
Kelly is next in line, and we will see each during the hike a bike sections, which are now getting steeper and longer.
“Disaster Strikes”
Then it happens. The most demoralizing event of the entire trip just over an hour into the ride. I take my digital camera out of it’s shoulder case to take a picture of Kelly in the distance and I simultaneously turn it on and accidentally fling it down the trail. Smash goes the lens.
No problem. I’ve seen the “lens error message” before and was able to fix it. I stop and try to fix the lens for 15 minutes or more, as I had been planning the video I am going to make of the event for the last few weeks, and want to capture the unreal scenery for everyone back home. But there is no fixing it. It is destroyed. In one final make or break attempt to repair the unit, I rip the lens out of the camera body and tried to reseat it. It is dead.
I regroup and decide to focus on making sure I really take everything in, as now I won’t have any photos to remind me of my journey. I continue climbing up Butcher Ranch Trail and then over to Pauley Creek Trail. The hike a bike sections become less frequent and I am actually starting to enjoy riding as I can stay on the bike for more than five minutes at a time. Then I turn onto some 4WD trails and start climbing a little more rapidly.
I am taking a break every hour, just for a few minutes to have something to eat and take some sport legs. I have never had a problem with cramping, but I’ve never ridden this hard or long before either. My strategy is certainly more of survival than that of efficiency. Some bites of my PB&Js, and maybe a Gu and I am off.
By now it is past 9:30 and I am still climbing when I hear a motorcycle coming up behind me. It is Mike Ferrentino on his Montessa trials moto. He stops and asks how I‘m doing and if I need any water. I tell him I am feeling good, keeping it steady and hoping he might have a small digital camera in his pack. No such luck. Before he zooms off he tells me he will be up ahead with water by the “New” trail, and that I am doing good.
“The First Top”
A little more climbing and some more pushing of the bike and I reach the first high point of the race. There are some people from Santa Cruz Bicycles taking pictures and since I am probably way behind I hang out for a bit while they ask me to do a few circles around the top to get more photos.
[My rig for the day)
Two motorcycles come up to the top and ask for directions. The Santa Cruz guys can tell that these guys are novices, as can I by how new and clean their gear is. They recommend the motos take the route down the hill from where I just climbed up. Their other option is the route I am going on towards Snake Lake, which is super sketchy and steep with large rock piles all the way down. The motos heed their recommendation and turn left down the hill. I continue onwards towards Snake Lake.
Finally some downhill action! I rip down the trail, which is soft and powdery, enjoying all but three minutes of pure speed when I turn the corner and start heading down towards the lake. The trail has turned into a scree slope, a river of loose steep rock that almost allows me to ski down it by locking both my brakes. After the initial shock of the terrain change, I aggressively attack trail as there are few if any good lines down as the rocks get bigger and bigger. The view to the lake is unbelievable, sitting at 7000 feet altitude.
The rocks turn to boulders, and those two novices on the motos are now at the bottom third of the trail I am coming down. They are stuck, spinning their wheels, hung up on the rocks. I yell out to warn them and rip on by.
Past the lake, I see Scott from Santa Cruz at an intersection and he points me in the right direction. He mentions that he got stuck behind some 4x4s on the way up and to watch out for them.
I am doing good so far, but my saddle has come loose again at the rails. I stop to fix it two more times before I pass a Boy Scout camp on the fire road climb. Mike Ferrentino had mentioned the camp and how it was private land, but if we were desperate and out of water might be able to get something from there. I have packed some cash in my Camelbak especially for the occasion, but am doing good so I keep on going.
Somewhere around here is where Mark Weir catches and passes me. I hear someone behind me shouting “HBO, HBO” as I am climbing and know is was Weir. At dinner the night before he asked where I worked and I told him HBO. Then he goes on a tirade about how all of the movies on HBO suck and he wants it off his cable package. It was classic Weir and at least I captured that on video. He is riding with Jason Moeschler to keep him company, and I pathetically attempted to lift my five mile per hour pace to six miles per hour. Regardless, they cruise past and keep on going.
Immediately past the Boy Scout camp is where I catch up with the 4WD caravan of about 15 jeeps. They are tractoring up the steep rocky pitches and unknowingly blocking the trail on me. I use the downhill sections to squeeze by them and then run with my bike on the uphill. We jockey for position for about 20 minutes around Spencer Lake when at last the trail turns right for them and I go straight to the “New” trail.
“The Only Crash”
The New trail is much to my liking. Tight and twisty fresh cut trail through brush and weeds six feet high in places, with wet rocks that aren’t all loose, I am having a good time. Then it gets steep exactly at the time Rachel Lloyd catches up to me. I hear her yell out as I am carrying my bike down the trail that has turned into a very steep little creek. As I turn to see who it is, my saddle gets caught in one of the many straps on my new Camelbak and I fall over backwards onto my bike right in the stream. I can tell by the look in Rachel’s eyes that she is not impressed.
At least I’ve gotten my first and only crash out of the way, and I wasn’t even riding. Shaken a little, I remount and try to ride down the rest, but seconds later the rider who is keeping Rachel company, called Shady, is right on my wheel. I pull off to the trail to the right as far as I can go as there is a tricky steep section that I wasn’t prepared to attempt immediately in front of me. Shady goes for it and doesn’t make it. Over the bars and sliding down the embankment like a Looney Tunes character face first with his arms underneath him, yelling out in pain. From all the noise I think he had broken his shoulder, or worse, but he remounts in disgust and continues on.
Two minutes later, I see Mike Ferrentino standing under a lone tree at about 6200 feet elevation, and he has water. He gives me an update on where everyone is and about what to expect next. There are some more nasty, rocky, narrow, downhills to come, and then I’ll be hitting Lavezzola Creek Trail, which will open up and be super fast.
Mike isn’t kidding, Lavezzola Creek Trail is by far the most fun of the whole first loop. At first it crosses some streams and is wide enough for a quad, but then it finally gets its flow and turns into a narrow strip of trail about 500 feet above the river with the embankment high on your right and steep and low on your left. On some sections of the trail, I feel like I am going 25-30 mph, and it goes on like this for miles. I am finally done with 80% of the climbing for the first loop and can enjoy payback for all of the pain over the last four hours.
The trial opens up into double track and I catch Shady, who is killing this downhill section as well, but just coasting up the small rises. It looks like he has a broken chain, but when we get to a large hill he can’t coast over, I ask if he needs help and he tells me he has ripped off his derailleur.
Further down, I catch Erin, and I continue on downhill where it opens up into a dirt road and I am spinning out my 36x11 gear, hoping the whole time that no motorcycles or jeeps are coming up the opposite way.
Onto another dirt road and then back onto First Divide, I stop to get my bearing and make certain I am where I think I am. All is good so I continue down into town. I see Matt coming up the wrong way, as he has already made it back into town and is on his second loop. It is a small detour for him, but certainly the harder route than the fire road he wanted to take up out of town.
[First Divide Trail]
“Back in Town”
As I ride back to the shop, the Santa Cruz guys already have the BBQ going and according to the time check I am an hour behind Kurt and 30 minutes behind Matthew.
I refill my camelback with water, some PB&Js and Gu packets. I borrow a digital camera so I can get pictures of the second loop and then snack on some plumbs. Erin, meanwhile, has come in and decided to go back out right away. A good time for me to pick up the map of the second loop and have a carrot to chase.
I pack some extra water before heading out, and still have a cold can of Coca-Cola stuck in my pack weighing me down. After ripping downhill for an hour with eight less pounds on my back, it is unpleasant to head out again, uphill, with a pack heavier than when I started this morning. Plus it is about 1:30 pm and the heat of midday sun is beating down on me, causing the sweat to melt the sun block off my face and run it into my eyes.
At the intersection of the dirt road S514 and First Divide I see Doug headed into town. We stop to chat for a bit and he tells me that the organizers have decided he won’t have enough time left in the day to make the second loop. Kristin is right behind him and has also been pulled. I give them an update on the day and where Kurt and Matthew are and then decide to push on up the road after I see Shady pass us on his way up.
[Doug eats riders half his age for breakfast]
“Get Going”
About 30 minutes into the climb I see Mike Ferrentino coming down on the trials moto. Unfortunately my back has started to seize up on me, making me walk up sections until the pain goes away and I can actually get back on and turn the pedals over. He stops to see how I am doing and I tell him I am trying to keep myself in check with an even pace, and I feel ok.
He tells me that in a little bit I am going to take a left onto a fire road which will then take a right onto another fire road which will then take a right onto another fire road and getting near the top there will be a sign that says “Dead End”. If I do not reach the Dead End sign by 5pm (and it is 2 pm now) it is unlikely that I will be able to get back before dark. He is heading back to town for a bit and will then be chasing me up the mountain on his trials motorcycle, and if he beats me to the sign the ride is over for me. He says, “Get going” and then zooms down the hill towards town.
I remount with renewed motivation, and click it up a few gears. That lasts for about 500 meters and then I am off walking again for 20 meters and then back on for 100 and off for 20 and on for 100. I stop to eat something, but this time only for a minute. I attempt to take a photo with the camera I borrowed, but it tells me that it can’t read my memory card. I have the option of erasing all of the photos and video I took in the days before the ride, or keeping them and getting nothing on the second loop. I decide to keep what I have. Depression sets in again.
The climb never levels out, and I have no idea where I am on the map or how far to go till the fateful sign. It is now 3 pm.
The course is marked well and I have never taken a wrong turn yet, so I push upward as there is no other option. I have been climbing from town for two hours and my back is starting to completely break down. I just can’t put any power into the pedals and have to ride for a minute and then walk for 15 seconds. Regardless of how slowly I walk, I know I have to keep making progress against the clock. I live in fear that I will be pulled from the ride and go home a defeated man, with no pictures to boot.
It is now 4 pm, and I start to wonder how it is possible that I have not gotten near the top. I have been climbing the entire time. But wait, the road is starting to go down. I crank into a big gear and try to make as much time as possible, but the downhill section lasts only for 15 seconds, and then the road continues upwards. I am nowhere near the top.
All of the on and off the bike is starting to take its toll and I start to cramp up. I have heard that mustard or pickle juice helps prevent cramps, but they are two of my least favorite food items, so I eat from a few relish packets that I picked up at the airport. Ugggh, they taste nasty, but seem to help with the cramps. My feet, on the other hand, are trashed. Blistered and sore from walking so much, I am dragging them along. On this climb alone I must have dismounted 50 times to push the bike just to give my lower back a rest.
It is 4:30 pm and I am always listening in fear for the sound of a motorcycle engine, which would mean Mike has beaten me to the Dead End sign and will pull the plug on me. What will I tell everyone that voted for me, all of my coworkers, friends and family? My mind is a disaster area, but the fear drives me to push on as hard as I can. 4:45 pm and there it is! Thank God! I’ve made it to the Dead End sign, which I think symbolizes the approximate top of the climb. Well, it is the end of the nice hard packed, gradual slope that I’ve been climbing for over three hours, but only the beginning of the worst piece of trail I have ever encountered.
“Rock Slide”
The trail is covered in three inches of loose silt with the consistency of baking flour. Loose rock, tree bark and small sticks cover the trail, making traction near impossible on the steep slopes. I ride as hard and as fast as possible, probably pushing my bike 80% of the time, always checking my watch. I have made it to the Dead End sign, but now my goal is to get as far away from it as possible, and look as fresh as possible when Mike eventually catches me. I want to instill some confidence that I am good to finish the ride. Plus I have heard that the downhill is unbelievably sweet, and I didn’t just climb for almost four hours to take a fire road back to town.
Then the trail turns to absolute total crap. It is now like beach sand, but finer and covered in round golf ball, to cantaloupe-sized rocks, on a slope that is so steep I am almost going backwards as the ground gives way under my feet.
Mike Ferrentino comes riding slowly up the loose rocky nightmare, which is named “Rock Slide.” He stops and tells me that this trail is unrideable, and when it gets to the top it is still unrideable. Weir didn’t ride it, nobody rides it, ever. He will be waiting for me up top and assess how I am doing. He attempts to take off on the trials bike with its super grippy eight psi tires, and gets stuck. Another attempt and he slowly starts to tractor up the climb. He bounces his way up, up up, and out of sight. I continue to push, each step not more than six inches in front of the last.
20 minutes later and the slope levels off, but the trail is still difficult to ride in many sections, and then it points upwards again and is impossible for me to ride. I think the top would have come by now and start to feel the effects of the long day and the almost 7000 feet of elevation. One last stop for a bite to eat, and the view is unobstructed for 15 miles looking east over the ridges. I push my bike upwards, and finally see Mike standing on top of a huge downed tree taking pictures of me in all my agony. It has taken me an entire hour to push the bike one mile from the Dead End sign to the top! I have been going ONE MPH!!!
I decide to stop there in the trail and break into my Coca-Cola, but Mike tells me to walk around the corner first. As I turn the corner, there is a view of the entire valley in front of me. Looking south, it seems I can see for 50 miles, and it is one of the most beautiful scenes I have ever witnessed. The sun is setting and Mike points out the trail along the ridges in the distance I will be riding back to town. He cracks open a beer and I enjoy my Coke while we talk about New Zealand.
The sugar rush sets in and I start downhill as fast as I can. The trail is wide open and I can see the valley thousands of feet below, as I navigate the loose and very tight switchbacks. I am careful not to get too wild on this downhill, as I am probably about two hours away from town and don’t want to end it badly so close to the finish
I pop over a small rise on the ridge pushing my bike and there are guys from Santa Cruz taking pictures. I try to remount so it looks like I am riding and they can get a good picture, but can barely sit on the bike from exhaustion, and the altitude. They are kind to me and say I look great and how much fun the downhill is going to be. Everyone seems super psyched for me, especially Todd from Santa Cruz and Greg from Yuba Expeditions, so I perk up and continue to rip downhill from Chimney Rock.
“Racing the sun”
Some more pushing up Bunker Hill, and I am officially out of water. Mike comes by and gives me the last of his. He tells me that Kelly had gotten really bad stomach cramps and was pulled earlier in the day. I continue onward and finally it is wide open and fast. I see a bunch of the Santa Cruz crew up ahead taking pictures and cheering me on, so I rip through at 30 mph, only to hear them yelling at me to turn around. Whoops, my first wrong turn in the whole event, all to show off for the camera.
[Kelly and Kristin heading out of town]
Back on course on Herkimer Mine Trail, I am letting it loose. The trail is very dry and silty. I’ve pumped up the tires to 40 psi before the race as I am fearful of getting a flat and taking 20 minutes to change it. Not only was the ride harsh over the rocky stuff earlier in the day, but now traction is less than perfect, hitting the corners in the powder at full speed. The trail gets steep in sections and the penalty for falling off to the side in certain areas is an impossible hike back up or worse, much worse.
Suddenly I feel my pains in my stomach, and I remember what Mike had said about Kelly. My mind starts to play games with me again and I fear that I will succumb to the pain within sight of the finish. I distract myself with the awesome views and concentrate on not dying, which helps greatly.
My feet are also killing me so I alternate standing and sitting on the descent. Standing, I can make much better time. Mike is right behind me on the moto and we are now on the Downie River Trail. I get up and go full bore, the brakes are overheating and smell of burnt metal. It is an awesome descent, and I am in the zone, pretending I am Steve Peat and getting a few pedal strokes in every time I can to go as fast as possible. Finally, after descending for over 45 minutes, I reach a false bottom and wait at an intersection for Mike to catch up.
We continue down a dirt road that has a dozen or more false flats, a few I have to get off and push the bike over because my back hurts so much from going full out for so long. On the downhill I am spinning out my gear, and then trying to keep as much momentum for the up hills as possible. As we pass through the creek crossings on the road, Mike sees the wet tire tracks of another rider who must have just come through. He thinks it is Erin and is encouraging me to keep jamming.
“13 hours later”
It is almost dark and 10 minutes before 8 pm. I have no idea how far out we are, and have been hammering at full effort for what seems like 30 minutes on the dirt road. Then finally we reach a paved road and Mike points the way down. I freewheel into town and arrive exactly at 8 pm, 13 hours after I left in the morning. A big cheer goes up from everyone. I am the last rider in. Erin came in a few minutes earlier and Kurt and Matthew have been enjoying BBQ and beer for the last two hours.
[Back in town. Hello? is there anyone actually here?]
I grab a bottle of water and congratulate Kurt on being the first person in. He was able to stay out in front of Weir until the dirt road climb out of town on the second lap! The best anyone has ever done according to Weir. Truly deserving of the win, he will be awarded a new Santa Cruz Nomad and all of his travel expenses covered.
Erin was the only woman to finish, as I learned Vanessa took a wrong turn early in the competition. Erin will also be awarded a new fully spec’d Nomad valued at $5500.
[The female winner, Erin]
I grab a German sausage from the grill, the first real food I will have had in 13 hours, and man it looks good. We pose for a few pictures and whomp! The bike shop Mastiff hound, Celi, has taken the entire sausage out of my hand and almost a few fingers too. Not to worry, there are plenty of burgers and sausages to go around.
I head back to our house to take a shower. Some of my toenails are black from all of the hiking, and I fully expect them to fall off. There is no cell reception in town and my phone has died anyway so I can’t report back to home how it all went.
The after-party continues with Karaoke and we are competing for a Santa Cruz Chameleon or Stigmata frame. Kristin is petrified of Karaoke, and Doug doesn’t look very enthused. It will be my first attempt at Karaoke ever, and despite the lack of alcohol, I put out a passable rendition of “Thank God I’m a Country Boy” by John Denver. The local crowd appreciates the New Yorker’s take on the song, which places me into a tie with Kelly’s “Manic Monday” cover.
Mike Ferrentino and the owners of Yuba Expeditions pick the tiebreaker song. A duet of “Love Lift Us Up Where We Belong” as sung by Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes (I had no idea). Kelly and I put on a performance good enough for us both to win a frame, and I finally celebrate with a beer. The party continues on past 2 am and everyone is happy to close out the latest edition of the Hellride on a good note.
Then it was back to New York and HBO to see if I could do something about Weir’s cable package.
Welcome to Hell.
“Thanks”
This was an experience that I will always remember and has set the bar for what I now consider an epic ride. The next time I am out on a ride or at a race where there is a climb that is less than four hours long, I’ll laugh a little. Although I was hoping for a miracle, I am happy just to have finished and ride hang out with people as passionate about bikes as I am.
I’d like to truly thank everyone from Santa Cruz bicycles, especially Mike Ferrentino, the owners and employees of Yuba Expeditions, Mark Weir and Rachel Lloyd, all of my fellow Hellriders (Doug, Kurt, Matthew, Kristin, Vanessa, Erin and Kelly), everyone that voted for me to be in this competition and of course my wife Joy for all of her support and encouragement, and making the trek out to JFK at 3:30 in the morning to get me back home.
Aaron
Thursday, August 7, 2008