Colorado Trail Race 2010

For months we’ve trained together; riding, camping, hike-a-biking. Selected our equipment together. Made some of our own equipment together. Reviewed the course. Identified nutritional needs, and where to get food along the course. Where to get water? What to expect?

So, at the last minute (literally, while our friend Tory was driving us to the start), it seemed natural that Emily and I decided we were on holiday together, and we were going to ride together to share the experience of the CTR, although we still maintained the race ethos concerning being self-supported. We each had our own gear, our own food, to the point of buying our supplies individually (despite the fact that we were paying from joint accounts and getting dinged for currency conversion with each purchase).

The race started off as many do; an hour of thanking sponsors, course warnings and then Stefan fired a starter pistol, or maybe it was a cannon or set off a Roman Candle. Or maybe he stood on a tailgate,  gave a little speech, a few directions on the Spot trackers, and said GO!

Regardless, we soon found ourselves the last riders to leave the parking lot.

First, there was an issue with Emily’s GPS, and then she discovered her computer wasn’t working. Her quick inspection as we rode revealed that the magnet had somehow fallen from her wheel. I never got around to mounting a computer on the Walt, so my wheel didn’t have a magnet. Yet, when I looked down, there was a magnet. Purple nipples. A Stan’s hub. In our excitement to get ready, I had put her front wheel on my bike. ummm, oooops?!?  Following a quick wheel change, we were back to rolling, enjoying the Colorado singletrack.  As the trail opened up a bit, I was feeling pretty good (it was still early on the first day), and decided to gently push the climbing legs for a bit. 10 km in and I had passed a few other riders, steadily moving towards the Platte. I remember this trail. Technically, it was my first “endurance mountainbike” training ride.  I like this trail! Each little climb, the landmarks, the climb up a rocky riverbed, a few switchbacks, big rocks with overlooks signifying that the summit was near, and finally the switchback descents! woohoo! Looking down to check the distance, and I noticed that my GPS was not on my handlebar!  ummmm, this can’t be good. Point of fact, my GPS wasn’t on my bar to start the day. My GPS died while driving across Washington. I had borrowed a Chris’ spare GPS, and as I realized that I had dropped it somewhere, his story explaining a spare GPS suddenly rang clear: He had dropped his GPS in the snow during the Tour Divide, and someone had found it after the snow melt and returned it to him. doooohhhhhh.  I turned back, ditched my bike on the side of the trail, dropped my pack, and jogged back up the trail. Another rider told me that we were almost 15km into the ride, meaning that I only had to backtrack 5 km !  Emily shook her head as she rolled past me. I had gone 3 to 4 km, when another rider smiled as he presented me with a GOS he had found on the trail Back to the bike, back to the descent. Approaching the bridge across the Platte, I heard my name bellowed. Don (where are those frames?) was here to cheer the riders on! Don was here to say hi. Don was here to tell me that my wife was kicking my ass! “Can’t talk Don, I gotta go.”  It took a few hours, and almost 40 km before I was able to catch up to Emily. She was having a good day. I felt good, it was all good. Soon we rolled into Bailey, hot, a bit hungry, but neither of us had worked very hard, and we both felt pretty good. A few calories, a V8, and a Gatorade, later and we were rolling towards Kenosha Pass. At the return to 285, I stopped to adjust my clothing, getting prepared for the very grey skies to open up, and by the time I was rolling again, Emily was out of sight. I kept looking for her as I climbed towards the pass, but it took a while before she was spotted, and then she promptly pulled away from me again. I felt like I was breathing through a straw. a stirring straw. a stirring straw with a kink in it. At the 100 km mark (maybe 5 km from the summit), I had to stop and eat a bit just to get to the summit. As I got closer, the familiarity lifted my spirits, and I lifted my pace. It was good to turn from the highway into the campground entrance, and then I saw that Jeny was there with Emily (and a runner dude), and cupcakes to celebrate Em’s birthday. Cupcakes!!!  I was so uncoordinated (I really lost all form on the climb to Kenosha pass, disconcerting, however I was alert enough to recognize my troubles and blame them on lack of acclimation), that I dropped half of the frosting onto the ground, but the sugar rush (compounded by JJ’s exuberance) was enough to send me over the edge. “C’mon dearest, let’s get to rolling.” I wanted to sleep on the west side of Georgia Pass!  10 minutes later we were crouched on the side of the trail

counting the seconds between the lightning and the thunder. FLASH! thousan—rummble…FLASH! thousand one thous—-RUMBLE  (you get the point).  after 20 minutes or so, the rain lightened up substantially and the lightning had moved a bit further away. We remounted and again set out for Georgia Pass. But, as we neared tree line, another storm rolled in. again we stopped, but this one seemed to have settled in to stay a while.  Ironically, despite living in Vancouveraincity, we didn’t bring enough rain gear :O  C’mon ,it’s Colorado; during monsoon season, the storms roll in daily and then blow through. We were soaked, before we made the decision to spend the night on the East side of Georgia Pass in a very ugly, unlevel bivy spot.. By the time I had set up my bivy (tarp, emergency bivy, DIY quilt, wool layer) I was going hypothermic. I forced a few calories down, and dove under my quilt, shivering violently for a few minutes, but finally warming up. The rain (and more than occasional thunder) lasted until after 2 in the morning!

Day Two was one of the hardest days I’ve ever had on a bike. I had a restless sleep, and everything was very wet..mmm..wet chamois….. I was being hammered by the altitude, the final push up Georgia Pass was literally a push

and later, going over the Tenmile range was excruciating (ducking more thunderstorms throughout the day).

But, the descents were freaking unreal, backside of Georgia Pass, followed by Tiger’s Run, and finally the screamer down to Copper. The current selection of bikepacking gear (lots of Epic Designs, errr, Revelate Designs bags, thanks Eric, the bags are incredible!!!) make the bikes feel like mtb bikes, other than the added weight during climbs.

Even with my loaded Walt, I’m still able to hop over rocks, roots, hit the needed manuals, all the good stuff. Although it was still early in the evening, spent the night in a condo at Copper, needing a low(ish) altitude place to sleep, an opportunity to spread out our gear to let it dry, and a warm dinner or three.

We hit the trail an hour or so before sunrise,

which was spectacular,

and fitting with the current conditions, we were able to watch a 7am thunderstorm over the Tenmile Range behind us.

However, we were rewarded with mostly dry riding as we traversed the buff singletrack, big vistas, and thin air of Searle Pass and Kokomo Pass.

The descent from Kokomo to Camp Hale was a ripper; despite the inherent advantage of Emily’s Song’s suspension and gears, the big wheels on my Walt, and a little more comfort with slightly exposed trails, I quickly pulled away. The trail would let up periodically allowing me to shake some feeling back into my fingers before the next rush. This was the best wildlife viewing trail that I had ridden in a while, by the time I reached the bottom, my tally included 5 deer, 2 elk, and 2 bears. The climb up to Tennessee Pass included a lot of flowy, contouring single-track interspersed between long gentle climbs, and steep in your face climbs.  My ability to climb on the loaded Walt was much better than it had been the previous day, but I still walked most of the steep climb, and bits of the longer climbs.   Leadville was good, Mexican food at Manuellita’s Restaurant where we met Dylan and heard about some of the other riders that had just recently left Pbville.  (As an annoying aside, there was a restaurant that had a sign in the window barring cyclists wearing lycra, or cycling shoes, from dining in their restaurant…)

After a relatively quick lunch, we headed out with the intention of having dinner in Buena Vista.  All was going well until we were pummelled by hail as we approached the trailhead;

enough that the trail was covered until we got to the Mt. Elbert turn off. Goretex socks were a good call, but we were still soaked, as we had to hike-a-bike up the entire climb, and then descend through the slushy hail. Finally, the hail was behind us, and buff singletrack sped us through aspen groves and meadows as we contoured across the the eastern aspects of Mt. Elbert. Flying along, ignoring the thunder in the distance (but coming closer….rummmmmmmbbbbbbblllllllleeeeeeeee….rrrrrruuuuuuuuMMmmmmbbbbbblllllllleeeeeee….rrrrrrrrruuuuuuuuuuUUUUMMMMMbbbbbblllllleeeeeee…rrrrrrrrrruuuuuuuUUUUUMMMMMMMMBBBBBbbbblllleeeee), feeling the flow. Until I noticed the GPS had Houdinied again..  I had stopped using the barmount after the first mishap, and had been stuffing it into my gastank (toptube mounted feed bag), but apparently carelessness was the name of the game. During one of the frequent feedings (every 30 minutes, as dictated by a Timex timer), a zipper had been left partially unzipped. A bounce had happened. Likely, a rock/root/drop during a descent, and the little Garmin ETrex had leaped for freedom, while eyes were scanning further downtrail looking for the line with the most fun written on it. Cursing was heard in the forest, at the top of a climb, no less. I was feeling strong, feeling good, so we decided that I’d go search for the wayward Etrex, and Emily would continue on towards Buena Vista. I must admit, it didn’t necessarily suck riding backwards along the trail. It was a good trail, and I felt that that there was limited need to go slow; the GPS probably bounced during a descent, meaning that I could now rail the descents, and keep my eyes peeled during the climbs. After a while, I ran into Dylan (he expressed sympathy, and kept on riding. He hadn’t seen the escape artist formerly known as ETrex. So I continued, wondering where I had last checked anything on the GPS (it just wasn’t necessary on this trail).  RRRRRUUUUUUMMMMBBBBBLLLLLLEEEEEEE… It was no longer distant. It was no longer dry L  Eventually, I found the little bastard, almost all the way back to the “hail line”. We had split up a45 minutes ago, so I had quite a distance to make up..  RRRRUUUUMMMBBBLLLLLEEEEE… wetness…. whhhheeeeeeeeeeee…  I picked up the pace and set off in pursuit, knowing that I had about 11 miles of singletrack before the long road descent into Buena Vista.  I saw Dylan trying to nap under a tree! ?!?!  Kept rolling, pedalling with a purpose… Finally reached the descent to Twin Lakes. Missed a turn to the descent to Twin Lakes.. Hiked back up towards the last intersection, Dylan came barrelling down the trail, he missed the turn too.  We consulted GPSes. We consulted maps. We hiked back to the top. Then we saw a CTR blaze on the trail, the trail was correct, it just didn’t match the GPS..  RRRRUMMMBBBBLLLLEEEE…rain…rain… we set out, back down the trail (exhilarating descent!!! fast, flowing, tight), around the reservoir (awesome, flowy sage bush lined singletrack), back into the woods on the otherside (damnable climb). All in the rain.. rain… rain… inhale calories,Hence our split, I was feeling good/strong so I went back for the GPS and Emily continued on to Buena Vista. Then the rain started. I found the GPS about 5 pm, and pulled into BV about 9, and it rained the entire time. non-stop, from drizzle to downpour. Even in the rain, that section of trail was fantastic, fast, flowy, solid, fun. I rode for a while with Dylan (he was trying to take a nap by a tree until I rolled by), and eventually he dropped off because he was overheating (full rain suit), while I was dieseling on just to maintain body warmth (rain jacket, lycra shorts, lycra knee warmers, goretex socks that were filling with water). The 800 ft, switchbacked descent down to Clear Rd (?) by lights (the AyUps are still the shitznit) was fucking unreal. The permagrin returns to my face each time I think of it. Once down, the railroad grade descent into BV seemed to take forever, even at my super-high cadence, but once there Emily (90 minutes ahead of me) had a room in the Topaz Hotel right on the corner, with semi-greasy Chinese food waiting..

The next morning we had a later start than we would’ve liked, but it was a hot breakfast (shitty food at Jan’s Diner), followed by a trip to the city market; we estimated that it would take 18,000 calories to get to Silverton and kept tally using our cell phone/calculators.

Back to the room, stuff eight pounds of food into our packs (say hello to Dylan who had snagged the room next door), and then The Trailhead , which was a great experience. The owners are Spot Stalkers and they had set up a bike wash/wrench station in the front of the shop, and even called us out by name as we rolled up. Packs full, bikes heavy, newly purchased confidence in the form of cheap rainpants we rolled out of town about 10:30. After some early hike-a-bike (the usual climb from the trailhead to the ridge line),

we rode some fantastic trail (notice the recurring theme) along the eastern flanks of Mt. … and the Collegiate Range, reaching the Princeton Hot Springs early in the afternoon.

Emily had been having trouble eating, so we happily sat out a thunderstorm in the bar/restaurant trying to eat a few more calories. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to help, she had trouble ingesting food the rest of the day.

We made it to Angel of Shavano campground around dusk, but Emily was determined to make it to Flooses before setting camp. Which made sense, as it was the lowest spot we could sleep, so we did the long hike-a-bike (maybe 600 vertical across 2 miles, steep, rocky) by headlamp, and then turned on the Ay-Ups and just rocked the descent down to the Flooses. I think that it was Emily’s first actual nightride on singletrack, and she killed it. Too much fun!!! Following her lead down to 50 was exhilarating. Listening to her whoops and yays put a smile on my face, and reassured me that riding together was not only the best choice; it was the only choice. It really, wasn’t even a choice…

At Flooses, stars filled the so we didn’t set up tarps, just ground cloths, pads and quilts. But, by the time our gear was stashed (food was kept at least 20 ft away, out pathetic attempt at bear-aware, unlike our bikepacking in BC when we move the food much further away and setup a hanging bag whenever possible), she was in her sleeping bag. I asked her about food, but she had no appetite, and was going to sleep. I, however, ate a couple of burritos, a bar, and had a few shots of Stranahans.  Which was good, because my night was rough. Somehow, I punctured my Big Agnes pad, so I had to wake up about every 40 minutes to re-inflate it… damned bony hips

When we woke, I knew our ride was over. Emily’s face was really swollen and pale, she had a bit of difficulty with her balance and she still had no appetite. It was time to just pack up and drop into Salida. As a contrast, even though we were through riding/racing, I still ate two hotpockets and some trail mix. After some long tearful discussion, we decided that I would go on, and she would ride into Salida.

That was a very hard decision. I chatted with Dylan for a bit (he had pulled in next to us about 4 in the morning) and then mounted up and rode up the road to the trailhead, Monarch Crest was waiting for me. Legwise, I felt great, I actually rode much more of the climb than I had anticipated, made it to the final steep pitch relatively quickly. I felt like I was moving, and had visions of catching a few riders that I knew were only a few hours ahead of us. But, during the hike-a-bike, the demons set in; I realized that my head was not going to allow me to continue alone. For the sections to come, I knew that my focus had to be tight, and this wasn’t it. Despite the great trail, despite the legs, despite the feeling of being acclimated, I wasn’t having fun. We had started this together, and I wanted to finish it together, even if that finish wasn’t in Durango. So, I called it, turned around and chased her down to Salida (damn, once I exited the singletrack, what a boring SS ride on the roads to Salida, I don’t think I pedaled once)…

I’m sorry that we didn’t finish, but I’m pleased with that we rode, and I had no regrets that I pulled the plug.  Since then I have questioned my decision a few times, but I still think that it was the right decision. We had put a lot of effort into CTR 2010 (actual event and preparation), but I wasn’t prepared for it to be I instead of we. Instead, we had a few extra days to spend with family, and friends. Days that I wouldn’t trade for anything.

Believe it or not, Emily has already come up with a plan for CTR 2011, and I’ve made a list of changes to our gear and planning…