Breckenridge 68 Race Report

It’s been a rainy summer here in the mountains. Saturday’s Breck 68 was no exception. I haven’t raced on this exact course since 2010, when it was my first singlespeed 100 (I am glad I don’t have the same strong feelings about the bump in the road that is French Gulch, since that climb is in basically EVERY Breckenridge bike race). I was happy to come back and do it over again with way more experience/fitness/acclimatization and without the 6:00am first lap start up Wheeler Pass.

It rained a lot. I packed the car in the rain, drove in the rain, picked up my race packet in the rain, set up my pit cooler in the rain… you get the idea. Not sprinkles, not storming (yay!), just a constant, steady rain.

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There’s some variation of a quote about there never being bad conditions, just bad clothes. Saturday was no exception. The temperature in Breck was 50. However, on the drive to Breck, the temperature was 42 over Hoosier Pass- an elevation I’d be racing at more than once on course. It had also been raining all week in the mountains, so there was sure to be standing water and high creek crossings on course, even if the rain stopped.

So, I dressed for a day of 40s and rain. It’s really easy to cool off if you overdress and get hot. It’s wayyyyy harder to warm up in those conditions if you get too cold. I saw a lot of people dressed for an hour of 50 and rain. I also saw a lot of people DNF because they were hypothermic. I wore normal summer kit, waterproof socks, rain pants, a real rain jacket, and mid weight gloves. The gloves were my weak point. I don’t own an waterproof gloves. Later I was given the advice to put latex gloves under my normal gloves. That definitely would have been an improvement, given my issues with poor circulation. I also put a few extra things (cap, arm/leg warmers, warm gloves) in plastic bags inside my pack (my Osprey Rev pack with no reservoir) in case the isht really hit the fan, weather-wise. I don’t usually race with a pack, but in this case, it was important to carry the rain clothes if it got warmer and to carry the other stuff if it got colder. It’s a super light piece, so without water in it, it’s hardly noticeable.

I entered the Pro Women’s category because there wasn’t a women’s singlespeed category available at registration. Also, I have been turning course times similar to Pro women, and there’s usually money available for placing. Once the race started, though, I didn’t really pay attention to who was ahead/behind me. I figured it was going to be a long day, and that things would just shake out however as long as I was keeping a good pace.

First order of the course was to climb up to/over French Gulch. I swear that climb is smoother/easier since the first time I did it back in 2010. We descended American Gulch on the other side, where I had flashbacks from Breck Epic 2015 when Sara Sheets and I battled up that climb after trying to kill each other over two other mountain passes. At the bottom, I stopped at the aid station to refill a bottle and swap to dry gloves (the aforementioned bad circulation was biting me in the ass). It took some effort to get the dry gloves on because the muscles controlling my right fingers had basically stopped working, so it was like trying to cram wet noodles into a glove. One of the aid station workers rubbed my hand between hers to get the circulation back, and I was able to manage getting the glove on. It was a bad chunk of time to lose on course, but I feel like it was necessary for my hands to be functional in order for me to continue racing.

The next climb up the Colorado Trail is a tough one with an awesome downhill reward. The toughness level was increased by the number of wet roots on the steep parts. I walked a good bit. That was also the warmest part of my time on course. I removed my rain gear and stuffed it into my pack. At the bottom of an really awesome descent, I filled another bottle and headed out over the last hump of that loop (Tiger Road) before rolling back in to Carter Park and starting loop #2.

At the park, I grabbed my windbreaker out of my stuff. The rain had started alternating on/off, and it was a little windy and chilly, so it felt like the right clothing for the rest of the day. I kept my rain jacket & pants in my pack, because, even though the weather seemed to be improving, it could potentially turn to downpours at any time. I don’t screw around when it comes to weather in the backcountry.

The 2nd loop started with a hard climb up Indiana Creek to Boreas Pass. Again, I had some flashbacks from Breck Epic. Once at the top of Boreas Pass, the course goes down the Gold Dust Trail. It was there, that I had my only wreck of the day on a wet, sketchy, high-speed, off-camber bridge. If you want to hear the details, you have to listen to the latest episode of Just Riding Along. It’s funny in a self-deprecating way.

The Gold Dust Trail seems to go on forever, but I eventually made it to Como, where I fueled up in order to start the long climb back up Boreas Pass. I gathered all of my mental energy and made it my goal to have empty shells of legs at the top of the pass. That worked out really well, because I suddenly found myself approaching the aid station before I was expecting it. I could smell the barn from there, so I hauled ass over the top without stopping.

Somewhere on the last singletrack, another singlespeeder caught up to me. I asked if he wanted to get by, and he mentioned that we were racing each other. I told him that even though I was singlespeed, I was definitely entered in the Pro category. Fun fact of the race I figured out later- I ended up finishing a little less than 1 min behind him. If I had turned on “ludicrous speed” for the last downhill and beaten him instead of staying “conservative” and letting him by, I would have been 2nd singlespeeder of the day behind Dan Durland.

Looking at the results page for just the 68 mile race (not the 100 or the 32), here are your rain/cold Did Not Finish/Start (DNF/DNS) stats:

43 Finishers
4 DNFs during the 1st lap (started the course and quit before the end of the 1st lap)
26 DNFs who finished a 1st lap and didn’t start a 2nd
16 DNSs (people who looked out the window that morning and were like, “Nah”)

Hopefully some of those 46 people can read this and take it as advice on dealing with the weather. I’ve been hypothermic more than once in the middle of summer in Colorado, so I’m coming from a place of lots of personal experiences in doing it wrong.

I ended up 2nd overall woman by about 14 minutes.

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Carbon Drive is really awesome in those conditions. The only complaint about my drivetrain was the freehub on the Stan’s Neo Ultimate rear hub. It was popping/creaking during the race, and making me feel like it was going to catastrophically fail at any point. When I took it apart on Monday, I found that the rubber seal between the hub shell and freehub body had failed to keep mud out. The low points of the drive ring were filled with mud, and the lubricating grease had become mud-fouled as well. I cleaned/re-lubed everything, but I don’t know if it caused permanent damage. After years of Industry Nine reliability, I’m not at all impressed with the performance or reliability of the Neo Ultimate hub.

I’m still pretty shelled from the effort. It was a really nice hard day of training for Vapor Trail 125, though.

Journey into the Clouds

Since I first looked at a Salida regional trail map, I’d lusted over the idea of following the Continental Divide Trail north from Monarch Pass (the well-known “Monarch Crest” route goes south and follows the CDT until you reach the Silver Creek trail). Most CDT rides involve extended hike-a-bike, cairn-finding, rugged/steep alpine terrain, and occasionally unpredictable weather. They also involve a sense of awe and scenery that’s unlike anything you can find from the safety and comfort of your couch or car.

This ride was all of those things.

The shop is busy enough this summer that getting a spot on a shuttle to the Monarch Crest can be difficult. I talked to one of the shop guides, and she informed me that there’d be a 5am shuttle on one of my days off… some people from Pearl Izumi were doing a photo shoot up there, and wanted to get the “good” light. I jumped on the opportunity- especially since earlier is better when going on a trip that’s above treeline for an extended period of time (afternoon weather can get hairy).

It was just getting light when we reached the top of the pass. I grabbed my bike off the trailer and was halfway up the first hill before the van was fully unloaded of its passengers:

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The first couple of miles was all pretty rideable. The singletrack traverses the hillside until you reach Old Monarch Pass. I had to stop and take a selfie, mainly because my most “fond” memory of that exact spot was from 2014 when I was pre-riding the Vapor Trail 125 course. The ride was huge (especially given my lack of acclimatization), and the weather was spotty until I reached the lower pitches of my final climb of the day- Old Monarch Pass. At that point, it started to rain. Heavy, cold, saturating rain. I reached the top, and- no exaggeration- was standing in said rain looking at sun on the road just ahead of me on the other side of the pass. I took this photo to commemorate my ride:

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Please, go ahead and laugh. I do, every time I see it.

This time, I was a lot happier, for lots and lots of reasons:

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From there, you soon get to Monarch Ski Area. The riding stays relatively easy until you get back on singletrack and start climbing again. It’s at about that time that the views start to get indescribably beautiful.

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At one point, I was in a cloud. It was chilly and kind of windy, but the angle of the sunrise kept everything oddly bright.

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Wildflowers and hike-a-bike:

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I made it over the final hump before descending into a huge basin on an occasionally-unrideable trail to Boss Lake.

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I know the pano shots kinda suck, but sometimes I don’t know how else to try and capture what I’m seeing.

I got a little lost trying to find where the CDT leaves the Boss Lake area. It took getting my phone out and using MTB project to figure out where to go. The next section of CDT looked new-ish, but was in bad shape. I’m not exaggerating when I say there were about 20 trees down in a couple of miles of trail.

That section was soon over and I made my way up a jeep road towards Chalk Creek Pass. The CDT eventually split off and ran parallel to the road. It was mostly rideable except where there were more trees down. Eventually, though, it became hike-a-bike once again.

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As the terrain became steeper, the trail became less obvious. It crossed a couple of big snow fields as well as a big scree field. The rock cairns were clutch.

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Just before I reached the top, there was one more snow field. It was steep enough that I had to kick my toes into the snow with every step in order to not slide back down.

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It’d be nice if I had the upper body strength to be able to hold a phone level for more than 4 seconds.

The top of Chalk Creek Pass was just on the other side. From up there, I could watch the valley on both sides of me filling in with clouds along the edges.

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The cloud cover didn’t look much better towards Hancock Lake:

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As I descended to Hancock, the clouds grew thicker and more threatening. I made the decision there to continue going down the road instead of staying on the Alpine Tunnel section of the CDT. The downpour chased me with occasional raindrops and gusts of wind most of the way down the valley.

https://www.strava.com/activities/1083462849

I’m slowly filling in the gaps of places to explore around the area.

Monarch Crest- No Shuttle

The weekend of the Mt. Antero adventure didn’t stop with said adventure. Though, I did take Friday as a recovery day. I ran errands all morning then went tubing for the first time in the afternoon. Tubing may be my next favorite recovery day activity. I grabbed a tube and some advice from SUPDVK (only a block from the shop), and headed to a popular put-in spot a few miles west of town.

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Then, I put forth no effort other than to float down the river and occasionally flap my arms for the next couple of hours. I did manage to go full send into the water on one of the rapids, which was more fun and exciting than it was scary. As I neared the boat ramp by the shop, shop-owner Shawn happened to be near the river and caught it on camera:

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To make sure it was a full-blown recovery day, I took the shop errand bike back to my car-

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Because I went full send on recovering, I had the legs for another big adventure on Saturday. I really wanted to ride either north or further south on the Continental Divide Trail than the traditional Monarch Crest section. However, the shop shuttle to Monarch Pass was full. So, I decided I’d ride up to the Crest via North Fooses Creek (N Fooses is all doubletrack access road and takes you up close to the start of the Crest Route, and South Fooses is the Colorado Trail section that connects to the Crest Route a few more miles south of Monarch Pass).

I decided I’d once again tack on a little extra Colorado Trail to the beginning of my ride and then explore one of the trails other than Silver Creek off of the Crest Route.

The Route:
https://www.strava.com/activities/1074173637

The section of Colorado Trail from Blank’s Cabin to Highway 50 is excellent. It includes a flowy aspen tunnel, a steep techy descent, and a very rideable climb out of Shavano Campground. Once across Highway 50, the climb up to the Continental Divide is long and one of the less interesting, more character building efforts in the area. It’s a little Jekyll & Hyde- once you pass the split where the Colorado Trail goes up South Fooses Creek, North Fooses turns more doubletrack-y and rough, but never incredibly steep… until it goes all the way steep a few miles up.

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Of course, in photos, it looks pretty rideable. In real life, it’s basically a wall of loose rock.

As I was pushing up, I could see rain/thunder clouds passing over the area I was headed to. Just like with Antero two days before, I made the decision to keep pushing and watch the storm path. I eventually made it to the top behind the storm.

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Once I was on Monarch Crest, I rode pretty hard. There were no storms right then, but they were definitely in the area. I decided on checking out the Green’s Creek Trail. As I found the top of it, the rain started (pretty sure that black cloud in the background of the above photo is what I was under). Thankfully, I was well under treeline by then, and there really wasn’t any hail or lightning.

The Green’s Creek trail is, however, very rooty and rocky… and, in this instance, very wet. It’s been a long time since I’ve ridden wet roots. Honestly, I don’t know when I learned to do so, but somehow, I’m guessing just through instinct, I was able to do it. You basically have to point your bike in a general direction and not touch the brakes until your braking tire is not touching a wet root…

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It takes nerves of feckin’ steel. I found the limits of the cross country bike in both rear wheel travel and lightweight brakes. You either go really fast because you can only brake where it’s not wet/rocky/rooty, or you walk. Somewhere in the middle isn’t an option… I know, because as I got tired, I tried to slow down, and it resulted in slipping/falling more than once.

Somewhere before the bottom, the rain stopped, and it was warm and sunny. I stopped at the trailhead to refill my water bottles and let the last few miles of riding soak in before rolling back down to town. Unlike my previous adventure, the wind was pointed towards town, and I rolled back in with a grin on my face.

The Circumnavigation of Mt. Antero

The weekend following Firecracker 50, I was jonesing for big rides. I need some soul-crushing adventures in order to prep for Vapor Trail 125 in September. It’s a race that’s equally demanding mentally as it is physically.

Inspired by Jeff Kerkove’s route up/around Mt. Antero using the jeep road and Brown’s Creek trail, I talked to a few people with more trail knowledge than myself and planned a similar route that included more Colorado Trail as well as Little Brown’s Creek instead. I came up with this: https://www.strava.com/activities/1071335857 . Riding from town adds a good dose of steady pedaling as well as at least 1k ft of elevation gain. I also enjoy staring at the mountains as I approach them and trying to discern what my passage is going to be from a distance.
In this picture, Antero is the tallest peak with Mt. White just to its left. My route traversed across the base of Antero into the valley on the right, then up the back and across the saddle between Antero and White before traversing south to the base of Shavano off to the left of the picture.

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The first part of the Colorado trail was rough. The connector to the Colorado Trail from the Brown’s Creek trailhead on FS272 has been torn up and heavily shat upon by equestrian traffic. There was a trailer load of 10-20 horses at the trailhead. They’ve widened and pulverized the tread of several miles of trail into several inches of powder that’s a mix of what used to be trail combined with urine and feces. You can literally smell the trail when riding/hiking on it. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you I’ve ridden miles of ATV and moto trails out here, and those vehicles don’t cause nearly the tread damage that horse traffic has caused.

I digress.

I eventually made it to the Antero Jeep Road. It’s gnarly and steep the entire way up. There’s no rest unless you just stop.

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I heard thunder as I was starting to climb. My first instinct was to turn and go home, but I told myself that it was going to be a solid hour or more before I was near treeline, so I should make the decision there since the storm would likely move on by then. I talked to a couple of downward-bound hikers, and they said it’d just stormed like mad, but it seemed to have moved off for now. Once I was up high and the hike-a-bike was becoming more sustained, the skies looked grey, but not too foreboding. There were piles of pea-sized hail all over the place. I pushed on up some pretty tough pitches- in several places, the road bed is just loose-ish softball-to-basketball sized rocks.

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Once the road starts to switchback, it becomes slightly more rideable. The grade isn’t terrible, but, at the 12-13k elevation span, the watts available to get up small rocky punches and loose spots are greatly diminished.

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Above treeline is one of my favorite places, ever. I could’ve stayed up there a long time, but, after a snack and getting my windbreaker zipped up, I headed down into that saddle where the trails look like they converge:

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The view at that spot looks like the trail drops off into the sky:

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Once I was on the trail, it was standard Alpine rugged-as-ufck with a big snowfield at the top.

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It was really tough riding until the trail ducked into the treeline. Then, it was a mixture of flowy and techy rocks until the last mile or so when it began including intermittent punchy climbs before t-ing in to the Colorado Trail.

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The ride back home was the soul-crushing nail in the coffin. The CT traverse back to south to Blank’s Cabin rolls up and down/in and out of drainages for what seems like an endless number of miles before arriving to the Blank’s Cabin trailhead. The ride back in to town from there is almost all downhill. It was also almost all into a 20 mph headwind. Even though the elevation loss from the trailhead to town is around 2000ft, I was tucked behind my bars, pedaling at 200 watts, and only doing 12mph for the last 7-ish miles back in to town. It was the type of effort that can break people… though, the whole ride itself could be categorized as such, so it was really just another difficult patch to accept and work through…

Santosha

In Sanskrit, the ancient language of India, the word for contentment is Santosha, described as one of the key components to success on the path of self-realization.  It is the prerequisite to experiencing peace.

TKV Desikachar, a world-renowned yoga master, describes the meaning of Santosha as accepting what happens.  Simply accepting whatever life offers you and learning from it.  It is also accepting ourselves just as we are.  There’s no need for me to be different than I am, and there’s no need for my life to be any different in this moment.

…applicable both acutely to bike rides and chronically to everything else.

Adventure Dump #2- Matt Visits Salida

Before we get started, I just want to mention that the deer in Salida are pretty out of control. They aren’t afraid of people, and sometimes even act aggressively towards pets. They also poop everywhere.

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Now that’s over, time for Adventure Dump #2. Matt came to visit, and since he has been living at sea level since mid-may, I made the riding plans sub-epic (I don’t GAF, I’m taking that word back). It was perfect timing for more reasonable adventure, because I was racing on a duo team for Firecracker 50 the Tuesday following Matt’s visit.

Day 1, we rode Marshall Pass up to the Continental Divide/Colorado Trail to Starvation Creek. Afterwards, we hung out at the river and visited the local shooting range. I’ve shot plenty of shotguns and a rifle or two, but it was my first time shooting a handgun. It’s definitely a little harder to aim.

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Day 2, we rode some Colorado Trail from Blank’s Cabin. The section from Blank’s to the Angel of Shavano Campground is one of my favorites because of the Aspens.

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Day 3 was definitely the raddest. We caught the first shuttle of the year up to the Monarch Crest Trail. I had only ridden the full trail twice- once on my first-ever trip to Salida and once during Vapor Trail 125 (I honestly don’t remember much of the VT125 passage because I’d been riding all night).

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There were still a couple of large snowdrifts to hike over.

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It’s a lot of fun to play around above treeline for a handful of miles on a clear/sunny day.

We stopped at my favorite water refill spot on Marshall Pass. I’ve been using an MSR Trailshot filter and loving it.

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You might notice from the photos that I put the RS1 fork on the 429sl. If you haven’t already heard me talk about it on Just Riding Along, I will say it again here- the RS1 is the cross-country Pike that I’ve always dreamt about. It’s not SID-WC light (weighs in between 1600-1700g), but it’s stiff, plush, and freaking awesome. If you have the $$, and you’re on the fence about it, I say go for it.

The three days of “normal person” adventures was a perfect lead-in to the Firecracker 50 race. I teamed up with Brad Berger- one of my other new-this-season Gates Carbon Drive teammates. He hammered a 2:12 lap, which put me someplace in the top 10 of 65 teams. I managed to reel in some of the ladies ahead of me, but also got passed by Cody (who turned a 2:02 lap)- the dude half of the eventual winners. My lap time was 2:27- fastest of any of the women who were on teams, and comparable to the mid-pack pro times. We ended up in 3rd place… not shabby, considering we were the only SS team on the podium.

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The short/hard effort of XC-distance racing is a good blast of intensity to keep the watts topped off while I’m exploring for hours otherwise. With a couple of days of hard rest, I was ready for the hike-a-bike extravaganza that was my next weekend off/next blog post.

Adventure Dump #1

Re-occurring three day weekends are one of the greatest things I’ve ever experienced. You’d think with all that time, I’d be able to post here more regularly, but the opposite happens- I venture out into the backcountry and make more adventures than I could ever describe in the small amount of time that I make to sit down and stop moving for a few minutes.

The month of June is a micro-shoulder season around Salida. The low trails are hot and dusty, but the high country is still snowy and wet. I spent a lot of time scouting up Marshall Pass and riding “backwards” on the Monarch Crest Trail as far as the snow drifts would allow.

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Sometimes I have a hard time stopping to take photos because the iphone will never, ever really capture how amazing the scenery I’m looking at really is. If you look at any of these, just imagine them being 10x more awesome in person than how they appear on your screen.

June is also Tour Divide and American Trail Race season at the shop. The two cross-country routes meet up just north of Salida and share a path through town, staying together until they’re over Marshall Pass. The leaders of both races rode through town within about two hours of each other. If you follow my instagram account, you’ve seen the multiple drivetrain replacements I’ve performed for riders on both courses.

Pro tip- if you’re racing across country, start with a new drivetrain, brake pads, and tires.

One of our Just Riding Along show listeners is a member of a group of gravel riders in Kansas. They have a friend on the Divide route, and wanted to send him a beer via the shop. In keeping with the ethics of self supported racing, if they wanted to do that, then all riders had to have access to a beer at the shop. So, he paypal-ed me a few bucks for beer, and we’ve been offering it to every rider that comes through the shop. I also spent a day on the route up the north side of town offering beers to racers I found on course.

This was my “waiting” spot on the last hill that racers climbed before descending into Salida. Soon after I set up there, I met a couple who were northbound Divide riders. They passed on the beer, but stopped to chat a few minutes before heading off.

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Looking at the Trackleaders site, I could tell I had at least an hour or more before the next rider was through, so I went off in search of a forest road I’d seen on a map that looked like it’d connect to make a loop back to my beer spot. I found the road…

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I also found out that the Everett Cattle Company effs up everything in that area…

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Basically every secondary numbered forest road north of Salida has one of these signs on it. Highly disappointing.

I went back up the hill to wait on the next rider. He showed up after a while and was pleasantly surprised for the beer handup.

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That same weekend, I decided to explore a 4×4 road I’d seen on a map (basically how most of my adventures start). County/Forest road 240 goes into the mountains from Maysville (on highway 50) and ends at Billings Lake. I took the Colorado Trail to 240 in order to skip riding up Highway 50 (though I did end up riding down it to get home)

Route: https://www.strava.com/activities/1052441531

The section of Colorado Trail from Blanks Cabin to 240 is gorgeous and flowy (with a slightly hairy descent at the end). On the way to the trail, I could see my destination in the distance- the low spot in the mountain horizon just to the left of the cow’s head.

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The CT:

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The climb up 240 was tough- about 7 miles of mostly steep and rocky jeep road. However, the scenery at the end was as gorgeous as the climb was difficult.

Along the way, you pass an old trail that goes up the backside of Shavano. Gonna have to explore that one.

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Stay right for maximum mountain enjoyment:

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The area at the end of the road is covered in old mine remains. I’d love to find out more about the history of that spot. You can see the road I came in on to the left of the lake in the first pic-

 

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The opportunities to explore the mountains around here are nearly endless. I spend literal hours looking at a topographical map, then cross-referencing it to strava heatmaps and local trail maps to try and determine if what I’m looking at actually exists as a road or trail. I want to refer to the resulting rides as “Epic,” but that term has become pretty watered down by people whose idea of adventure is a zipline tour or ski resort.

In my next installment, I go higher.

 

 

 

 

Double Race Report: CO State XC Championships and Vail GoPro Games

So many adventures, so little time.

It’s been long enough since these two races happened that I don’t remember a lot about them to report other than copious amounts of sweat, dirt, and heavy breathing.
I’d been conflicted about whether to race the Colorado XC State Championships in Eagle or to race the Beti Bike Bash back on the Front Range. I ended up going to Eagle because I’d never ridden there, and it avoided taking a day off of work (the Beti Bike Bash was on Sunday in Bear Creek Lake Park where I raced my season opener).
Other than having a hard time finding the start line, the Eagle Race went extremely well. I only had one other singlespeed competitor, and I won by a few minutes.

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While I was waiting for the podium, I ate the only restaurant meal I’ve purchased since I moved. If you only do it once every few months, $14 for a burger is totally worth it.

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I wasn’t planning on attending the GoPro Games. It’s a huge freaking circus of vendors and various “extreme” sports lodged in a whitebread resort town… basically the sort of venue I avoid at all costs. However, I happened to look at their website early in the week, “just to check it out” and noticed that the singlespeed category was getting PAID. $500 for a win? Yeah, I’ll deal with the other crap to have a go at that. I also knew that sort of payout would bring out some competition, but, given my power numbers from the Eagle race, I felt ready to take on anyone.

Two other racers were at the start- Gretchen Reeves and Sara Sheets. That’s about as high as you can stack a 3-person singlespeed field. When we took off, I got the holeshot up the first hill and on to the singletrack

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Gretchen came back with small attacks at the top of the first couple of short climbs, edging ahead of me to get into the downhills first. I definitely wasn’t rubbing her back tire down those, either. She was pinned. We started up the long climb of the course, and I ever-so-slowly pulled ahead. Again, the powermeter was clutch for pacing.
The course switchbacked several times, and each time I’d turn and look back, Gretchen was a tiny bit further back. I got to the top of the long climb and hauled ass back down. Once I started in on the second lap, I didn’t see Gretchen anymore, but I kept it in my head to not let up because she was RIGHT THERE.

I rode the entire lap with the mental image of her chasing me down if I slowed at all (my power was a little higher up the long climb on the second lap). It paid off…

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I think a big part of my success this season is having good sponsors to work for. Gates and Spot have given me some really good stuff to go out and hammer on. And, while SRAM isn’t “officially” a sponsor, that RS-1 that I’ve ended up loving more than any other fork in the world was the answer to my “I want to try an RS-1 if I can get one for free” plea. It also helps that I’m in a city I love. It’s almost like the layer of stress I felt in the crowded Front Range has converted into a layer of power living in Salida.

The adventures here are unlimited. Like I referenced before- it’s hard to not go out for an all-day exploration the Thursday before (or the Thursday after) a race weekend.

Over the Rainbow (again)

Since my days off from the shop are Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, I have quickly formed a tendency to do something a little “out there” on Thursdays, despite having a race on Saturday. Last week, it was another Rainbow Trail adventure.

If you recall from a recent post, I explored a section of the Rainbow Trail that people generally avoid due to an extended hike-a-bike. After figuring out that I’d gone the “wrong” direction before, I decided to go the other way on this outing.

The skies had been a little threatening most of the morning before I left, but I decided to pack a rain jacket and take my chances anyway. The trails here are super dry now, and any moisture that falls gets soaked up super fast. I headed up county road 110, hitting the Double Rainbow trail along the way. Once I made it to the Rainbow Trail, I started the walk.

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There are a couple of spots you can ride, but they are brief.

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It rained steadily for about half of the hike up. I was prepared, though, and thoroughly enjoyed being at the top of Poncha Mountain at the exact time that the sun re-emerged.

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The aspens up there are hardly believable.

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I have no pictures from the descent, because I was having too much fun. I will say, though, the view of Mt. Ouray on the way down nearly wrecked me with distraction.

The Route: https://www.strava.com/activities/1016899299

I bonked a little on the way home and drank the last of Leah’s almond milk in a recovery shake so I wouldn’t die all the way before I was able to make real food. A ride that includes two and a half hours of climbing isn’t my usual “thursday before a race” routine, but sometimes I just can’t help myself.

Gunnison Growler Race Report

Nearly two weeks ago, it was re-enforced in my brain that people’s memories about the difficulty of a trail system are highly subjective and very skewed towards the difficult portions of said trail. I’d been warned repeatedly of the tech that awaited me in Gunnison and had people freak out a little when I mentioned that I’d be singlespeeding it.

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The Gunnison trails used in the Gunnison Growler course are mostly buff, smooth dirt. If I had to guess a percentage, I’d say 90% of the course was silky smooth, flowy, bermy sage surfing. The other ten percent is where the trail crosses a rock formation- probably ten to twenty feet at a time’s worth of rock garden navigating. Apparently, those rocky punctuation marks in the trail burn a lasting impression in to people’s brains moreso than the silky parts, because based on the descriptions I’d heard, I was expecting it to be the the other way around.

The difficulty in the race for me was singlespeeding it- not because of the terrain itself, but because the race started with the bane of all singlespeed existence: the “neutral” rollout.

A “neutral” rollout is where you’re in spin-coast purgatory, burning matches at 120rpms and hoping to hell that you don’t get spit out the back of the group as the lead vehicle gradually accelerates to speeds that far exceed your (and even a lot of geared riders’) ability to hold on. According to people I talked to following the race, the “neutral” rollout from town to the race course ~4 miles away was rolling in excess of 25mph for the last two miles. Needless to say, my belt-drive equivalent to 32×20 gearing had me riding off the back for a mile or two before hitting the dirt.

It’s worth adding in here that Sunday’s full-distance Growler course (two 32 mile laps) was accompanied by a non-competitive Half Growler ride (one 32 mile lap). The competitive version of the Half Growler was on Saturday.

What I’m getting at here is that the combination of a fast rollout and an additional bolus of less competitive riders on course meant that I hit the singletrack with people who tended to granny gear the climbs and walk the technical spots. No bad vibes to them… they were doing alright and having a good time. They were pleasant to be around and generally courteous. However, I went in trying to race, and, for the first 32 miles of dirt, was in a conga line of 10-20 people, and couldn’t. I’d try to pass a person or two, only to have them pass me back on the intermittent dirt roads in the first half of the course. The second half of the course, there just wasn’t room to pass 5-10 people at a time without being a jackass.

I re-adjusted my expectations somewhere on the first lap and rolled in to the pit area feeling nice and warmed up, ready to kill my second lap of much more open trail. The second lap was pretty great. I had free reign over the climbs and rode most of the technical stuff. Other than the rollout, the course is pretty great for singlespeeding.

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Back when I’d entered the Growler, I didn’t know if I’d have a team bike ready or not, so I’d just entered the Pro division instead of singlespeed (I was the only woman on a singlespeed doing the full version, anyway). I ended up finishing 5th in the Pro category. I didn’t think I’d get any sort of prize (the podium was 3 deep at the Saturday half), so I committed the pro-faux-pas of leaving before my podium presentation. I was already home when friend/COSprings singlespeed legend Dan Durland sent me this photo:

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Oops.

I don’t want to dwell too much on the race logistics that made the Growler less of a race for me (I’m just repeating them here because they’re pretty relevant to a race report post). It was still a fun time on a gorgeous, unique course. I still had a killer day of training- I left with tired legs and more skill than I’d started with. So, I consider it a success.

Rainbow Trail- Over the Hump

I raced the Gunnison Growler on Sunday (the 28th), but that’s another post.

At the bike shop, I work 4 days (Sunday-Wednesday), then I have 3 days off. That leaves the 3 day weekend to do some big adventures and whatnot. On Saturday, roommate/co-worker Leah and I rode out to the south/west end of the Rainbow Trail.

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It had snowed earlier in the week, so everything above 9ksomething feet in the shade was patchy snowy. It made for some sketchy wet rocks & roots in spots as well as some cool scenery.

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As it dropped out of the woods, it turned beautiful and dry.

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There’s a section of Rainbow Trail that, since I started visiting Salida, I’ve been told is no fun because it’s blown out, steep, and hike-a-bikey (the trail is open to motorcycles, so it definitely gets loose). Since I was there, and I didn’t have much else to do that day, I figured I’d try it out.

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I was able to ride about the first half of the climb up. As the summer progresses and it gets drier & more moto-trafficked, there will be some spots I rode that won’t be as rideable. The second half is a lot steeper and rockier. I was getting really excited that the other side of “the hump” (the local name for that part of the trail) would be a fun, techy descent much like the stuff I was hiking.

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The top of the hump is somewhere around 10k feet, so there was a good bit of slushy snow and water. I eventually made it to the spot where the trail seemed to drop straight off the mountain.

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I was mildly disappointed when I found that the descent was nothing like the climb. It was all gravel & sand surfing. So, next time, I’ll definitely go the other direction and hike up the gravely side and descend the fun side.

I kept riding to county road 108 and descended back down to town. Here’s the Strava file for it:

https://www.strava.com/activities/997741104

It was about 6 hours, door-to-door, so I was stoked to eat a two-person-sized serving of tacos for dinner.

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Adventure number one of many.