Gooney Riders

Lush

Lush forest.  Cascading Creeks. Rain. Hail. Lightning. Carving through mud. Slick roots and rocks. Mountain Biking!  

Cheers,

Chris

 

Dixie 176 - The Unanticipated Adventure

It was circa 2 pm on Sunday afternoon and I was sitting somewhere on the Grandview Trail outside of Bryce Canyon in the middle of central Utah.  Mile 130 of the Dixie 200 (or 176 this year because of the snow).  My bike was wedged in one pile of deadfall behind me and I was staring at an even bigger pile of deadfall in front of me.  Now, I'm not talking about a log across the trail, I'm talking piles of logs taller that an elephant, wider than a school bus, and longer than a blue whale.  I stared angrily at my predicament and told the dead trees exactly what I thought of them, a string of accusations and names that are probably not appropriate to be repeated in a public forum.  

(Two hours in and feeling fine)

I pulled out a Pearsons Salted Nut Roll and pouted.  This isn't what I signed up for.  I didn't sign up for 40 miles of hiking my bike over deadfall.  I didn't sign up for carrying, dragging, and lifting my bike over trees for the entire night trying to get to the only reliable water source in the area before the sun got too high in the sky.  Then why did those stooopid helicopters have to fly over 45 minute after I laid down to sleep, essentially ending my 3 hours of planned sleeping time 2 hours early.  Whyohwhy didn't I stop to ask those ATV'ers I saw 2 hours ago how to get the heck out of this place?

 

I chewed my candy bar and took my rationed two sips of water.  Next road I hit, I'm done.  I don't care where the road takes me to, I'm getting off this plateau, I'm getting off this trail.  This is reeeetaaaarded.  Maybe I should just leave my bike here, I can set a waypoint on the GPS and I'll come back and get it when the Forest Service clears the trail.  20 miles in 20 hours.  Really?

(Trail.  Classic DH and LW singletrack)

I finished my treat, contemplated eating another but knew better, stood up and assessed the most recent scratches to my arms and legs.  Shallow but painful.  I went over to my bike which had spent more time perched on piles of trees in the past 18 hours than on the ground, pulled it out of the branches, rolled it over to the next pile of trees, took a deep breath and hoisted it up again.

(Sunset.  Mile 95, I was about to hit deadfall-central.  Little did I know what was in store for me that night)

I hit the next section of road and saw car tire tracks on it.  That meant that if I followed it, it would take me back to some semblance of civilization eventually without any any trees in the way.  I followed it along the GPS track until the next dreaded sign.  Grandview Trail.  You're not going to quit, Eszter.  You might as well get over it, quit being negative, and enjoy the view.  The only reason you have to quit is because you're miserable, and really, that's never been a good enough reason to quit before.  You have food.  You have water.  You're not really time crunched yet to get back to camp.  And as long as you keep moving, you're going to get to where you're going (which in my case was a cooler full of food a mere 30 miles away).

(Sunrise.  I contemplated skipping sleep altogether, but one of the goals of the ride was to test out my sleeping gear so I napped on a flat section of dry stream bed until some scenic tour helis woke me up)

10 hour later, I dumped out at the Thunder Mountain Trailhead.  11:12 pm on Sunday.  39 hours and 5 minutes after I'd rolled out with four other brave souls.  I'd ridden the first 100 miles in 11 hours.  I'd hiked through the night till I reached water at 6:30 in the morning.  I'd slept for 45 minutes and continued hiking.  I covered the last 20 miles (with only one downed tree) in around 3 hours.  It was an unceremonious finish.  I didn't even stop but continued the half mile up the road to the car where I sat on the ground eating left over pad thai chicken and sweet potatoes admiring the stars before taking the car across the highway to the campground, plunking my sleeping pad and -20 degree bag down and finding that it was far too beautiful out to go to sleep right away.

(A clear section of trail.  Novel idea.)

What was I expecting?  176 miles similar to the first 100.  Dirt roads, single track, cow paths.  What did I get?  An adventure.  A big adventure that tested my mental composure to a higher degree than any other event I've ever participated in.  Holding it together took more effort than continuing past Highway 50 in the pouring rain during CTR last year, more effort than ignoring my screaming body on the last lap of 24-hour Worlds last October knowing that the next girl was a mere two minutes behind me leaving the pits, more positive self-talk than it took to drop everything in Boulder and believe we could make a life for ourselves here in CeeBee.  

But I guess in the end, this is why I sign up for things like this.  I know, given that I planned far enough ahead that I have enough food and water, and barring injury, I can pedal 176 miles.  I can pedal through the the night and into the next day.  It's now become a question of how gracefully I can do it. 

(Final 6 miles down Thunder Mountain which we'd ridden during our spring road trip.  Hoodoos by headlamp are spooky)

Was this weekend executed gracefully?  I'd like to think, that aside from the string of curses that I unleashed towards a handful of piles of unsuspecting trees, I finished the route with as much grace as could be expected.  And when I failed to meet all but one of my goals for the ride ( 1) Finish 2) test out CTR sleeping system 3) Smile lots (I think I was on the verge of tears more often than I was smiling for miles 100-140)) at least I faced the challenges with a certain amount of poise.

(On top of Powell Point where DH was waiting with apples, which aren't edible with still slightly broken teeth. Doh!)

And that I can be happy with.

 

 

Quality over Quantity.

A little more than a year ago we moved to Crested Butte.  As a mountain biker, I felt like a starving person who had come across a pantry filled with delicious food.  Long story short, rode a shit ton, injured by August.  Eszter has taught me the importance of keeping your head happy.  Don't grind out 6 hours if you are tired and grumpy.  Ride cause your stoked, and ride hard.  If I am not feeling it, the work commute will do.  Finishing the CTR in a week has been on my mind, but I know its better to be undertrained than overtrained.  Eszter has also taught me how much endurance riding is mental, so you gotta keep that stoke going.  Manual labor leaves me pretty tired at the end of the day, so I don't feel so manic about getting out on a ride.  Did not get much riding in last weekend, but got a brilliant 3 hr ride in Monday eve post work.  I was curious about a trail that has been snowed in, so I gave it a whirl.  Did quite a bit of hiking over deadfall, snow, and precarious stream crossings.  The sections that were ridable, were delightful.  Finishing at sunset on a long descent after a 3 hour hard ride, now thats quality.

Cheers,

Chris

Race Video

Running around on Saturday trying to grab some video.  Cool seeing folks out there that I know crushing it.  

Cheers,

Chris

 

Crested Butte Charisma

Cram, the head wrench at the Alpineer, was crowned the 'Chainless World Champion."  

Some perished .  Thats gonna hurt in the shower... 

And some managed to conquer the beer garden...

The next day I was out on the Fat Tire 40 course shooting photos.  What a fantanstic race packed with classic singletrack in the valley

For a side note, Eszter and I got married this day last year!  She somewhere inUtah Pedaling her bike right now, so we are going out on Monday when she gets back.  I'll  post some old pictures for our anniversary in a bit.  

Cheers,

Chris

The Long Way Home

Motivate, push past that post work exhaustion from sun and labor.  Motivate, and pedal! 

Cheers,

Chris

 

More Solstice Shots

On Solstice I got done with work a bit later than Eszter, but there was still plenty of daylight to pedal.  It's great being able to start a ride at 7 pm.  

Augusta, Mineral Point and Purple in the morning.  Still looks like you could ski 2-3k Feet!

Snodgrass finally opened.  Sydney cruises the aspens late in the evening.

A bit of a celebratory solstice ride with the Alpineer crew.  Timmay even remembered the limes... 

I followed Timmay into the dark on the new Lupine trail as he roosted dust plumes into the twilight.  Lupine has awesome high speed berms that take you down to the slate valley.  Had a great pedal home under the stars to CB South.  Love this time of year! 

Cheers,

Chris  

 

Solstice

Summer seems to have arrived.  Finally!

 

Solstice ride to work.

After work I did a bunch of this.

I counted 1,756 shades of green out there.

Riding till sunset on solstice.  There's nothing better.

It was a good day.

Six pack on the Porch.

 

 

Cheers,

Chris

Preparing for the Improbable (i.e. Bring a map)

When Chris and I first moved into our little apartment, we put the Latitude 40 map of Crested Butte/Aspen on the wall over the eating table.  We've spent countless hours eating and dreaming up big loops to ride and ski and this morning was no different.  After a significant period of indecision, we opted for checking out the Deadmans switchbacks, and if we made it over to Spring Creek then picking up the Gunnison Spur of the Colorado Trail, riding it to Gunni, and taking the 4:15 bus home.  The only caveats being that the forecast was calling for 60% chance of thunderstorms in the afternoon (we rolled out at a very respectable 10:30 am) and if we missed the 4:15 bus (or there was already a bike on the two bike rack) then we'd either be pedaling the 22 miles home on the highway, or hitchhiking with bikes.

 

We reasoned that if we got turned around on the switchbacks due to snow, we'd check out Ferris, Strand, etc.  Based on the snow I'd seen yesterday, I didn't think we had a hope of making it over the 10,700 saddle.  I guess Chris didn't think we'd make it either because we didn't actually bring a map for the other side.

The old, sketchball Deadmans bridge is dead.

But the Forest Service put in a new one.  Go Forest Service!

We climbed, and climbed, and climbed.  And at 10,200 ft, just like yesterday, we hit snow.  But the saddle was only 500 vertical feet away, and the snow wasn't that bad, so we hiked.  And postholed.  And slid.  And eventually made it to the top where the mosquitos attacked us.  Clearly they hadn't gotten the memo that it wasn't summer yet.

Down the south facing backside we went.  It was a eclectic mix of beautiful, buff trail, washed out, dusty misery, and then just plain washed out.

I think I'm going to label this trail as 'Not ready yet'.  

The tootsies did not stay dry.

We made it down to Taylor Canyon and paused.  Which way to the CT Spur?  Ummmm...a map would be useful.  After a nice road ride down canyon for a few miles, and then back up canyon, we found what we thought was our road.  Or was it?  We had two hours till the last bus left Gunni, we were, as the crow flies, a solid 15 miles away.  The weather was not looking promising.  So we did the rational thing, we bailed.  Bailing is never fun, but neither is getting stuck in the rain.  I'm a Colorado gal, I have a very low tolerance for rain.  Or mud.  Wind though, I've made peace with.

In the end, I think we spent the majority of our time on dirt road followed closely by pavement with hiking single track slotting in at third, and actually riding single track taking the fourth and bottom step of the time-use ladder.  

But the curiosity about the route has been piqued.  There's some pretty cool link-ups to be done...but I think I'm going to give the trails a few more weeks to dry out so I don't have to get my tootsies wet.  I don't do well with wet tootsies.