Yesterday was the last big ride of my Moab build.  I was looking for a 12 hour ride, and after last weekends apparent form on the White Rim with the Pocket Rocket, why not give the Kokopelli trail another go?  I was thinking that with a lot of  luck 12.5 hours was within reach.  That course is such a bear...but I came close.  Without further ado, here's the new mark on the Kokopelli Trail as a solo, unsupported effort:

I've uploaded the ride file here.  As always, it's in WKO+ (aka Cyclingpeaks, ya know, the software used by T-Mobile for season planning in '07).  I was riding the new Yeti which is disc brakes only - so the file doesn't have power, it's speed/hr/distance/time only.

I followed the same set of rules we used for the May KTR event - basically that of self-sufficiency, carry what you need, accept no outside assistence, no water/food drops, no drafting other riders.  In a sense, this was an even more pure event as it was done solo.
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As it was for the other 55 competitors to do the Kokopelli trail in May, KTR loomed large for me for months.  All the planning, the preparation, the anticipation - it was all so juicy; the highlight of my early season.  It also meant that I've done all the legwork into putting together a good KTR ride, so all that obsession wasn't required this time around.  Simply make a few tweaks to the plan based on how the May event turned out and go giver' the gas.  Those tweaks were:

- a new filter for the water filter.  The dang thing failed on me in the May event.  It worked great yesterday.

- an easier start.  Initial pace is a delicate balance in this event because the first 2:45 are uphill with perhaps 5,000' of climbing.  Go too hard and you'll pay dearly later in the day...go to easy and you won't make that time up.

- travel lighter.  I packed enough food for a week last time and finished with prolly 6 lbs of food in my pack.  I was going to finish in 13 hours or shortcut the end, so either way I didn't need that much food.

- take in more calories in the first 6 hours!  I totally blew this in May...in part because I was going so freaking hard for the first 6  hours.  It's hard to eat when you're gasping for air.

Here's the bike setup:

The bike worked great, for the most part.  It felt much faster on the climbs than the Dos, and it was downright comfy for the long haul.  It really inspired confidence on the fast descents.  The only downside is the Fox rear shock blew last week so I put on a Cane Creek cloud nine I had.  Great shock if you like bob and lack of adjustability...I can't wait to ride this steed with a decent rear shock.  Some details you'll see if you blow the image up full res...a goofy looking  custom light on the bars.  This is my most recent, as yet unblogged K2 bar design complete with bitchin cooling fins.  The battery is tucked away in the 2nd saddlebag under the saddle.  It worked flawlessly, turning the night into day.  2nd spare tube on the downtube attached with Dicky's favorite method: duck tape with tabs.  PT pickup; the power tap pro was used in computer only mode.  North Face pack, courtesy of Boris in '05 for registering for all 3 E100 events.  It's a great pack; for whatever reason, I just can't use a Wingnut.  Weight down low kills my lower back.  In the pack I had a water filter, food, 100oz fluids, and another water bottle.  Total capacity was 150 oz.  It was warm for my 5am start, so arm/leg warmers was all I needed.  I also had my new (previously blogged) helmet mount K2 light.  Way more light than I needed because the sun rose before the descending began, but hey, it was another testing session.  That's it.  Light and simple.

Friday, the day before the ride, it dawns on me about 12:30 pm that I haven't started packing yet and it took months for v1.0 and slight panic sets in.  It's only a training ride, right?  Ha!  Anna had volunteered to go with me on the trip - do a hike in Moab after I started, then drive to Fruita to pick up the remains.  So off we go at the crack of 6pm.  We were both beat and didn't make it past Monticello. 

2am Saturday I was more than wide awake, I was wired.  It was game time.  I always look forward to the last big ride of a build for long events, they are a special beast in my mind.  It is the time when it all comes together, and is always an indication of how well the block has progressed.  3 hours later we're in Slickrock parking lot, ready to rock.  Anna is amazed at all the stars in the sky; I'm amazed at all the light my two systems are throwing.  "Look at all the stars!"  "Look at my lights!"  It went back and forth like that a bit, then I gave up.  Off into the night I roll...this time alone and without the full moon.

So what do you think about when you head out for something really, really big?  I could wax philosophical here a bit...but the truth is in my mind I'm going over my checklist:  when to eat, how much, where to filter, pacing goals, contingency plans (gotta be flexible) - all the little details.  Once I got that all worked into the seams of my conciousness, it was time to unleash the mp3 and let it do its magical PE lowering trick.

At about the 2 hour mark I hit the first bit of pavement.  It wasn't quite light yet, but there was plenty of "seeing" light.  The vistas below made me gasp; the La Sals were covered with deep snow, and the aspens were in full fall regalia.  There was a little snow in shady spots left over from last weekends snowstorm.  This was a magical part of the ride, when vistas were huge, both mountain and desert, and I was patting myself on the back for the decision to start later this time.  Starting at midnight, you miss all the high mountain scenery; starting at 5am the ride is literally a "mountains to desert" experience.

The top of the paved climb was going to be a good benchmark for how my pacing was going.  PE was pretty low initially, so I expected to be maybe 10 minutes behind the pace of May, but was surprised to hit the the top only about 1.5 minutes behind the May pace.  I was also using a HR monitor to keep myself honest.  It was going to be a good day.  Rolling over the top of the La Sals, it was time to switch the clear glasses for the shades.  The sun was up now and right in my eyes at times.  But wow!  The views from up there were mind boggling.  Sunrise in the deserts below is a scene I won't soon forget.

The first 2 times I've ridden this section I've felt great on the Beaver mesa descent, but I was starting to feel really flat.  Then there's that short steep climb just before you pop into Fisher valley (I call that the 4 hour climb), and that thing had me seeing stars.  PE was through the roof; this was the toughest part of the day.  Inner demons were lurking.  Was I going to have to enact the cell phone contingency plan?  I had to stop and eat a bit, collect some wits, and carry on. 

By Rose Garden hill I was back on top, feeling great.  Hike-a-bike is something I really dislike, but I've done a lot of it lately and seemed to fly up that thing with ease.  Suddenly PE dropped out of sight and the legs were snappy as could be.  This is a phenomena I've come to recognize as a sign of really  high CTL - taking a long time to open up.  Usually it's not 4  hours...but I don't typically start big rides when I'm already at record CTL either;  The techy stuff to Dewey bridge seemed easy and went by quickly.  A quick check of the water supply revealed I had plenty to stick to the McGraw filtering plan. 

I was really feeling good now, wow!  The yellow jacket section went by in just over an hour, and a few minutes later I was at McGraw draw.  Time to filter.   It had to go quick - in May the filter fiasco took so long I completely shut down afterwards.  The filter improvements worked a charm and I was outta there in good time.  Quick chainlube, a mix of some Drip/eFuel, eat some solid stuff, drink an extra water bottle while doing it all, carry on.  The singletrack alongside the river was totally overgrown with tamarisk...and the late summer storms had made the following section quite nasty with erosion ruts & big rocks/boulders.  In fact, much of the course was a lot rougher than in May - but in general the sand was less, so I figured it was a wash.

After a few short climbs, it's on to the pavement near Cisco.  From here to Westwater it was all about the steady, fast pace.  My tire selection was partly based on the fater parts of the course - a tubeless fastrak on the rear for low RR on the flats, and a big (but light) Conti 2.3 on the front for the sandy parts.  Power was still great and in fact the section from Mcgraw to WW took only 1:23!  I had visions of a sub 12 hour time for awhile, but as the heat of the day set in, my stomach turned south and calorie intake was getting much reduced.  Oh well.  By McGraw (at t=6:56) I had already taken in 2600 calories and that certainly saved my bacon in the afternoon heat.  After awhile, all I could think of was Salt creek.  My head was baking, and a big cooldown was needed before that final techy bit of singletrack and hike-a-bike.  Knowing how long that final 11 miles takes, stopping meant I wouldn't make my 12.5  hour goal...but something about that creek, that heavenly cool goodness at just the right place, it calls to me and I am powerless over it's beckon.  So in I go, water filter in hand, and filter a couple bottles for good measure as I sit neck deep.  Made sure to remove all electronics this time around - in May I torched my camera in the creek. 

I spent something over 10 minutes at the creek and was almost cold when heading up the mostly hike-a-bike stuff.  Like RGH, the hikes went fast and easy.  It wasn't the deathmarch of before.  As the singletrack became more rideable, it was quite fun this time.  The canyon walls were putting parts of the trail in the shadows by now, the coolness was awesome.  There were a lot of folks out there riding (it was a saturday afternoon afterall) and were giving me some strange looks with the funky light system still on the bars.

Finally, that last little hill came into view.  I looked at my watch and seeing 12:38 made me smile.  Much to my relief, Anna was there with chocolate milk in hand, icewater, and a soft seated truck.  (note to self:  riding in wet chammys is way bad for the butt).

Some interesting stats:  ride time was about 11.5 hours.  That means I spent about 1:11 on hike-a-bike, water filtering, and pee stops.  The later was happening at an alarming frequency the first 6 hours...dang was I ever hydrated.  Post ride CTL is 158.  Pre-ride TSB was -10, about as high as it's been for 3 weeks.

Those are some downright silly numbers, even for my standards.  After last weekends white rim binge I knew I wan't ready to taper yet...but today?  Yea, I'm ready ;)

It's been a helluva season, and there's only one thing that could make it any better.  Time to let that taper work it's magic.

There could have been no better way to begin a Grand Loop solo TT than to stage from Mike Curiaks home.  He's a machine both on and off the bike - the way he was putting wheels together as we talked exuded the sort of expertise you want from the person building the most important part of your bike.  I haven't spent a lot of time talking to him and have usually had the impression his hard earned lessons in endurance racing were closely guarded from a competitive stantpoint.  Such is not the case - he understands that the most valued lessons learned are those learned through trial, error, and pain.  Those are things you won't forget, and things you will cherish.  To freely hand those out is to cheat the new ultra rider out of a good part of the experience. 

As we chatted and my understanding of his motivations became clearer, more pieces of this ultra puzzle were clicking into place.  As I write this goose bumps are coming up because I realize in retrospect the time with MC for a coupla hours had a large impact on the outcome, the decisions I made, in this GL TT...

As we roll out to Loma on pavement, we chatted about a lot of things and at times I was in stitches.  Mike is a cunning rider; you don't set long distance records by luck or chance and some of his strategies had me getting an early ab workout.  Rolling into the Kokopelli TH at Loma we met Pete Basinger who I had not met before.  

The more multi day ultra riders I meet, the more I'm convinced it's a big boy's game - literally.  Pete, Mike, Scott M., Stephan - all are considerably bigger than my 140ish lbs.  The reason is simple - there's a fixed amount of gear required to get these done, and the larger the rider the less the percentage of body weight of the gear.  No matter what my w/kg is, it changes drastically when considering my beginning gear weight was ~ 1/2 of my bodyweight.  Rather significant when a route entails some 40k+ feet of climbing, eh?

Just before sunset I head off down the Kokopelli trail, alone in my thoughts for the next 3 days.  This was a great feeling.  I was on the Yeti, recently tuned to perfection by Andy at Desert Cyclery in StG.  In addition, I'd asked him to get as many water bottle mounts on it as possible and it came back with 6!!!  This is 5 more than the bike has mounts for.  Impressive work my man.  This was great.  It meant I didn't need to use my pack bladder at all, and therefore didn't need the rear OMM rack to haul extra food/gear.

Before I knew it, I was at the top of the hike out from Salt Creek.  MP3 on, I was ripping along in a moonless night under the power of 500 lumens of my custom lights.  Rabbits and mice were everywhere.  Now there are a few less.  As many times as I'd ridden this trail in the past year you'd think I could follow it blindfolded - but I was in such a great groove with the tunes and vibes of riding through the night that just past Rabbit Valley I made a left down to the river instead of heading upwards towards Westwater.  I almost made it to the river before I figured it out.  DUH.  An hour later I was back at the missed turn, slightly aggravated with my error - and hugely aware that this wasn't a "paint by numbers" endeavor and I better wake up and start paying attention.

The rest of the night was heaven.  There is a lot of flow in the desert section of the Koko and I enjoyed every bit of it.  Next up were the shandy climbs of the Entrada bluffs road beyond Dewey.  The last time I rode these loaded I ended up walking a couple of times to relieve the grind...but conditions were great, it was still dark & cool and they seemed much easier this time.  At the top of the second one I stopped to enjoy the sunrise unfold over the Uncompaghre plateau.  That looming monster was to be the challenge of tomorrow...

I really dislike missing sleep, and that's one of the bigger challenges of multi-day racing (for me) and of the timing of this route in particular as it starts when I usually fall asleep.  To my advantage though, I can take a quick catnap at the drop of a hat and rise refreshed.  The periodic napping began somewhere after Rose Garden Hill...

Working my way up N. Beaver Mesa I was astounded by the flowers.  The building billowy cumulus clouds, blue sky, greeness spring was really accentuating the bloom. 

Shortly thereafter the route leaves the KT behind and follows the Paradox trail through the La Sals until it bombs down Carpenter Ridge to Bedrock, CO.  This section, although  non-technical, is above 8,000' and never flat.  It wore me down some to say the least, but I was bouyed by new scenery...and even saw a big brown bear running down the road.  It was suddenly there no more than 30 feet in front of me, running from me, and I had no idea where it came from.  It must be naptime again ;)

I really enjoyed this new region and I'll be back in a non-race setting sometime...sadly, this is the last picture my camera took the whole time.  The next time I went to snap a shot it was dead as a dodo.

A while later I'm pushing throug a decent size storm, getting really muddy and the roads turned to muck.  It was slow going for a couple of hours.  Finally, getting near Buckeye it was drying out and getting fast, just in time to descend to Bedrock.  By then I was tired.  I'd hoped to make it to Tabaguache creek tonight, but Bedrock would have to suffice.  I phoned Mike with my progress and was slightly dissapointed to get his answering machine.  In retrospect, it was prolly a blessing in disguise as he could have easily played on my weakened mental state ;)

160 miles done, I made a little nest in the sand and slept like a baby.  A few hours later I awoke to sky sparkling with stars and the rare sound of a live, running Dolores river.  Suddenly I was ALIVE.  Oh man that was a fine time.  I slammed some breakfast, packed up, and started off in the dark.  The river canyons were lively as both the Dolores and San Miguel were running high.  Lots of class II stuff to listen to as I rode by.  Next up was the Spring creek mesa climb which was relatively uneventful.  Cows early on made for some poop dodging as I had a water bottle in the crud catcher position. 

Arriving at Tab creek it was time for some calories to go down the hatch while filtering enough water for the most challenging section of the Paradox, Tab Creek to Hauser road.  Having pre-ridden it with CP and DN, I knew what was coming, at least to Pinto Mesa.  It got fairly hot here and I did stop under a tree once or twice, but still made good time.  Arriving at the top of Pinto Mesa a very light shower blew over to provide my own personal misty cooling system - manna from heaven.  Actually, it was from the Uncompahgre plateau, that great weather cooker.  Each day I'd see clouds form over the top of this beast of a landform.

Then something special happened.  Glencoe Bench.  This is the section north of Pinto mesa, and for me, this was terra incognita, beyond where our pre-ride had taken us.  The vegetation, the views, it all changed in a heartbeat from p/j high desert to ponderosa, aspen, marshy ponds, and so green it made your eyes hurt.  Enormous views down into Tabaguache creek,  it was overwhelming, and to be in new country after so much effort (my GPS was telling me I'd climbed well over 20K feet by now...) was priceless.  It made me re-think the concept of pre-riding courses for this type of event...made me consider why anyone would do these events.  Is it for the result?  Experience?  Escapism?  Just to ride unfettered?  I don't have all the answers, but one I do have is this:  I don't do it for the results, and that is the best argument for pre-riding routes.  Pushing hard through unknown territory forces one into a heightened awareness of ones own existence - survival - and pre-riding demystifies this.  I like mystery.  Hmmmmmmmm........

Hauser road.  Upward and onward.  Soon I reached to Divide road at nearly 10,000' and was somwhat alarmed by the quantity of snow still remaining.  It was a dry, warm March that had snowpack much reduced from normal levels and I had guessed it would be OK by now, but now I wasn't certain.  A few miles later, heading up the powerlines everything was dry and snow free.  Where the tab singletrack heads into the woods, it was not so dry and I was dodging snowbanks and fallen trees, but the going wasn't too bad.

I was hoping to make some good progress on the Rubidau section before a short bivvy, but man this was looking grim.  Then it got worse.  postholing through crotch deep drifts, dragging a loaded rig, is just a lot harder than riding a bike.  And I was moving inches per hour, not miles...after a few  hours of this it was clear I wasn't going to get through this section before sunset.  There was  no way I'd make it through here in the dark, if at all. 

Decision time:  should I bail down transfer road and call it quits, and if so, then what?  Should I skirt the singletrack section via Divide road?  Should I cry for mamma?

Truth be told, I was damn tired and didn't trust my decision making ability in this situation.  So, I backtracked out of the snowy area to find dry ground, built a white man's fire and made dinner.  Slept like a baby again, and since there was no need to start before daylight had lots of time to sleep too.  I'd hit the snow puzzle in the am with a fresh pair of eyes.

It froze up there overnight, so the snow was crusted.  I could make easier progress without postholing.  But eventually the trail sidehills on a steeply sidehill slope in deep, dark timber.  This was my undoing - there was not a patch of ground to be seen, it was all 5-10 feet of snow and trees.  Trail?  What trail?  It was winter.  I tried to guess where the trail would go and followed that route for a few hours, but realized I had gone about 1/2 mile in 3 hours - doing the math, it was going to take another week to finish this 7 mile section.  Stick a fork in this GL attempt.  Game over, film at 11.

Getting out of there proved no easy task.  The sun was up, the air warming, the snow's crust softening.  Where I was able to walk on the crust earlier, I was now postholing again, but I was much farther in than yesterday.  To complicate things, coming in I didn't make lasting tracks and navigation in those dark woods is rather disorienting to say the least.  The GPS saved my bacon in this area as I was able to follow my track out of there.

6 hard hours later, I was back to the Divide road.  I started pedalling...soon thereafter I came to the road that shoots down to the Roubideau trail - and it looked rideable.  Soupy, but totally doable.  Yet another decision to be made.  Do I head down this road, pick up the tab and do the remainder of the route?  I had been salivating over the idea of doing this trail for a long time.  It started last summer, and really heightened when laid up this winter.  Mapping it out intensified it further.  Yet, I was now a DNF for the GL, which could mean only one thing:  I would be back.  To ride the tab would be in essence to pre-ride the tab, and I would cheat myself out of the intense experience back on Glencoe.  I held a straight line, sticking to the Divide road, and never looked back.

The Divide road did not dissapoint and affording sweeping views of at least half the planet.  At one overlook, you could look down on Glencoe bench and the route up to Pinto Mesa.  That in itself was a real sense of accomplishment.  Funny, I felt probably better this day than all the previous two, and tapped out the ~100 miles back to GJ in no time.  I got to see the Uncompahgre plateau from the top; it's deep dark timber in the south, giving way to aspen and open meadows in the north, and eye popping canyons descending to the Gunnison river drainage.  Deer, elk, bear, porcupines, a blind rodent crawling in my bag, wild turkeys are just a few of the wildlife encounters.  After it's all said and done, I covered 345 miles in under 3 days time and was flooded by many emotions, thoughts, experiences. 

Of the entire experience, my favorite part?  By far, that left undone.

See you June 1. 

The training plan calls for one more epic weekend before moving on to new things.  This may be taunting the weather gods, but I'll head to the Moab area one last time this year.  On deck is another White Rim loop and the Dewey Bridge to Moab section of the Kokopelli Trail:

Curiak puts on an "unofficial" self-supported race on the full Kokopelli trail in May.  Looks brutal, so of course I'm interested.  This is a scouting mission, the primary task being find out where water is available!  The race hasn't been completed by a woman yet so guess who has set her sights on the event?  Must be a super slow course with a lot of sand in the lower sections as the course record is just under 15 hours.  Maybe 2 hours of that is filtering water. 

As of last weekend it was clear sailing at 8500' in the La Sals, but the weather is getting increasingly grumpy...so it could turn out to be 2 WR rides...or less if old man  winter shows up in full force.

This weekend will have CTL rising to the 135 range.  I don't spend much time at these levels outside of race season, so it'll be time to dump some of that and trade it in for some good ol' L5 block work, which will lead to the final build for Old Pueblo.  What is this dribble, you ask?  More details on that in the near future.

The Smoky Mountain road between Big Water and Escalante covers huge expanse of remote, lonely, beautiful country.  The road surface is actually quite good for the most part.  Water availability is not bad either.  It's been dry for a good long while yet we found plenty.  The area lends itself nicely to an ambitious 2 day or ambling 3 day bike trip - I highly recommend it so I'll post a few more details than normal for this one.

A lot of these pics ya gotta click for the big version...

Near the start of the route (starting at Big Water) this sign looks so new and official.  Not to worry, the man was nowhere to be seen and every other sign was bullet riddled, old and illegible ;)

After a bit the climbing comes on in earnest taking you up to the southern end of the Kaiparowits plateau.  Initially steep, it rolls a lot through drainages and contours in other spots.

Lake Powell in the distance, Smoky Mountain road contouring below.

Ion working it up the final grunt to the plateau.

Other signs of life.  This was the first (but not last) time I would hear yee-haw! this trip.  Cowboys are grumpy.

We took a diversion.  At Collet Top we headed over the Left Hand Collet canyon to descend to Hole in the Rock road.  The Grand Staircase site said the road conditions were "unknown."  In the future I'll know unknown means non-existant.  The conditions were unknown cause this rockslide prevented vehicle traffic and the road was later abandoned. 

For the most part we traveled a stream/canyon bottom for 11 miles.  Most of it was rideable but very slow.  Sand, water, big rocks and boulders, a bit of slickrock - a real cornucopia of conditions.  Slow going, but it really put a smile on our face anyway.  It's not everyday you get to ride something like that.

A cruise on HitR road took us to Escalante.  It'd be easy to get lodging there and not take the overnight gear...

But you'd miss out on this.

You'd also miss out on the redneck locals.  For future reference don't ever camp in the open near towns on a Sat night.  Holy crap...repeated high powered rifle shots overhead scared me beyond belief.  And here I thought I was afraid of nothing in the woods....drunk johny reb and his 12 half brothers were playing all sorts of antics.  Big spotlights looking for gawd knows what, they spotted us in our sleeping bags.  Shit.  Nothing like being the evening's entertainment for local drunken idiots.

Yea, nice sunrise pic but note the atv track in the lower right corner.  This shot was taken from where I was camped.  They came by within inches in the middle of the night spewing rocks and hoots and hollers.  The episode lasted at least 2 hours...

Heading south from Escalante on the Smoky Mtn road takes a nice climb to the ride's high point.

Beyond this point there is a wonderful section of rolling road.  It skirts several canyons, crosses others, big views abound.  You'll have to ride it to see it, I was too enthralled to stop ;)

I took a spur to the SW on Heads of the Canyons road.  It goes in and out of several drainages.  Plenty of up and down and road conditions similar to the Kokopelli trail.  I kept having deja vu...then I realized riding this was remarkably similar to the White Rim - except much less traveled, more tech and more climby.

It drops through canyons on it's way to Big Water.  This looked old and abandoned but there was food in the cupboards - oops!

Everywhere to the north is wilderness study area - no motorized vehicles allowed.  Nice ATV tracks here, not one of them turning around at the signs.  What is about ATVs that requires disrespect for land and your fellow man plus mass stupidity to ride them?  My disgust is complete.

Strange black hearted canyons on the way into Big Water.

So there you have it.  This may be the off-season and all...and I think I'm chilling out but I've got quite the string of 25 hour weeks going here.  It's just too much fun to stop!

Mon-Fri the past month this is the only bike I've touched.

Darn ghetto, eh?  I've had this 9.8 frame for maybe 5 years now and it's seen all sorts of use, but has never been set up for long at any one time.  It's current lifeform is w/ the Surly singleator + SS conversion kit.  About 3 days after Moab I knew I had to get this thing singled out...had the parts since '05 just hadn't done it yet.  The surly instructions start out with "1.  Take off all that gear crap and toss it in the trash..." 

SS riding is so...different.  Maybe it's the crappy old SID noodle I'm running, but it really seems to make me pay attention to lines more.  Momentum is your friend, and losing it is costly.  Then there's the matter of torque.  Cadences range from near zero to as high as you can go.  When cadences are super low, it takes a lot of torque to get over that next obstacle.  This is unlike geared bikes where you can spin on up and keep torque fairly low.  In other words, it just might be possible that strength can be a real limiter for SS climbing - and some strength training could be in order if I was to get serious about SS riding.

Which, BTW, I am.  I'll do a Kokopelli trail ride on the SS in '08 - underground race style.  I'm considering some other big events too on the SS but we'll see how a few small ones go first ;)

So that means the powertap is going on the SS.  Some quadrant analysis will give good ideas about the amount of strength required ... once I see some of that data I'll thinker on whether or not time in the gym is going to get the nod.  It's hard to imagine as when I stopped lifting in the winter I started to get a lot faster.

What's the consensus in the SS crowd?  Y'all do any strength training?  Looking at Dicky I'd guess not, but hey looking at Kenny Jones maybe so.  2 fast SS guys with opposite builds.

What started as a whim is sparking new interest - and that is a ton of fun.  Something new to deconstruct/reconstruct. 

Just hope the knees and elbows hold out.

So this year I've been testing Ergon products.  Last year I put some Ergon grips on the bike before TransRockies and haven't used anything else since, so when Jeff asked me if I'd like to fly the Ergon flag for '07 it was a  no-brainer.  Let me see...a German company that puts lots of engineering thinktank time into cycling products...duh!

In the chaos that I'm calling '07 - the year of the Golden Pig - I've fallen behind on what I intended to post about a few products.  So let's play catch up.

I've been using the Ergon gloves since early spring. 

This critical piece of equipment is often overlooked, at least until you end up with intolerable blisters or the tips of your fingers ripped off.  I'm not one to give glowing reviews, generally speaking.  I am learning to bite my tongue though if I don't like something ;)  Well, these gloves rock, plain and simple.  I've used the same pair for 2 grand loops, 2 Kokopelli rides (oh wait, make that 3), BC Bike Race, Kaibab monster cross, and all the training to come between those events.  They are still intact - a record for me.  Tough, tough gloves.

I've modified them a bit as I like to have some fingertips open so I can find that gu in the bottom of a jersey pocket.  All the fingers (not the thumb) have been clipped.

Initially I didn't much like the semi-hard plastic velcro over the back of the hand.  When removing the gloves, you pull the plastic velcro bit apart but it snaps back onto the velcro, holding the gloves in place.  I've since learned to be smarter (at least as smart anyway) as the gloves but attaching the velcro bit so it is loose - that keeps it in place and you can pull a glove off with your teeth.  That's something I do quite a bit while riding long climbs for the cooling factor.  Try it, it makes a big difference.

The palm material is minimal - no padding.  Unlike some other gloves though, the material is thick enough so that it doesn't bunch up and pinch your hand.  Oooo I really hate that!  It's a perfect blend of toughness and minimal design to make a perfect match with Ergon grips.

Next up:  I've been testing the BD2 pack and GX grips.  Stay tuned.

Since this is my blog and entropy has not yet been conquered...you gotta check this out:  https://buy.garmin.com/shop/shop.do?pID=10885&locale=en_US.  Surely this is going to send a few of you into a terminal tailspin and firmly establish the trenchnlines (hi DN and EdE), but talk about the holy grail of geekness.  Garmin is all over it.  Their new Edge unit is not only upgraded to do all the stuff of a mapping gps + cycling computer + HRM, it also can receive information from 3rd party compatible devices.  What does that mean?  It means, for instance, that the new forthcoming Quark powermeter that is ANT compatible will be able to feed the Garmin display.  This is an entirely new level of geekness not seen before.  It's hard to imagine any limits to data collection with this system. 

A single setup good for Grand Loop, general exploration, and structured training?  If it works on an MTB, I'm all over it.  Someone, sometime, some year, is going to make something that works off-road.  I'm still waiting.

Impatiently.

The morning of the Grand Loop Race I was relaxing in the lobby of the GJ Super 8, enjoying some "free" raisin bran and reading the paper.  I turned to the horoscope section just for fun and found this:

You will have abundant energy the next few days but it's best to pace yourself - you can't do much with a pile of ashes

Let's just say the pre-race vibes were as good as they get.  I had a rare day to relax before the start.  While that may drive some nutz, that's a luxury I never have, and it set a great tone and mood for the start.  MC read it as overconfidence, but in truth I was oh so relaxed, content with the prep I'd done for this monster, and was downright excited to get going. 

Planning

I'd ridden much of the course already.  The Koko obviously has seen my tracks a few times, and 2 weeks prior I'd attempted a solo GL venture only to be turned back by snow at the beginning of the Tabeguache trail.  So 2/3 of the course I'd already ridden; I'd generated routes via mapping software to be loaded to my GPS for all of it, knew the profiles and elevations well, had done my homework.

Weight and heat were big concerns.  I wanted to minimize heat exposure because in late spring/early summer I'm not adapted to it yet.  If there was a way to hit all the big climbs at night or early in the day...and lighter than 2 weeks ago...

Putting these concerns in my pressure cooker lead me to a plan of a fairly aggressive start with minimal food supplies, relying on the Bedrock store for resupply.  Then move on to Tab creek for a short bivvy, getting some much needed rest - before making the big push to attain the Uncompaghre plateau in the darkness before the heat set it.

The other key piece of the puzzle was the Roubideau section of the Tabeguache.  Difficult routefinding, difficult trail conditions - I had to be through that section before dark set in on Sunday, otherwise I knew I'd end up having a forced bivvy.  Beyond that, the plan was to go until I blew.  I expected routefinding and trail conditions to be much easier after Roubideau.  If I could keep going to the end, great - if not, so be it.  Sleepytime is good too.

As it turned out, I stuck darn close to that plan and had very few problems.  The big push from Tab creek all the way to the end was a bit over enthusiastic, but I was still able to finish the loop in record time.  Here's how it went.

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Planning for 3 days self-supported is new to me.  I've been on one very steep learning curve since doing the first overnighter back in March.  I started the GLR at least 25 lbs lighter than my first overnigher (!).  It turns out you don't need slippers, a coffee press, a big coffee mug and who knows what else I was hauling.  My equipment was pared down to this (not shown is my sleeping kit that attached to the bars).  About 14 lbs before water but including food.

We (all 7 of us) met at the Tageguache trailhead in GJ with MC to head to the official start at the Kokopelli trailhead in Loma.  At 6pm, it was fairly warm and arid, but not so much that we didn't chat like schoolgirls for the entire 20 miles.  We rolled along at a nice easy pace; Stephan & I compared notes on our "secret" weapons, homebrew LED light systems that threw huge lumens but burned few watts; MC and I chatted about all sorts of stuff - he's a real "idea man" and the more time I spend with him the more I want to; Chris and I chatted about bikes, tires, prep - ya know the geeky stuff.

One gent made the haul from Washington for the race, Dave Kirk.

Dave had the most unique bike setup/gear choice.  Everything was on his bike, he didn't even have a pack.  That had to be comfy, at least on the rideable parts of the course.

By comparison, Chris had almost nothing on his bike.

MC ambles up the course a few minutes ahead of us so he can snap some shots of us coming through.  We are left to make our own start.  As we head up the first hill out of the parking lot, I move forward and hear Stephan say something like "well I'm not holding that pace" and that's the last I heard of anyone.  Solo time from there on out.

As I came by MC, he said he bet Scott a pint of ice cream I'd take 6 hours off the record and wished me a good ride.  Considering he held the record, I found this remarkable and a real testament to his character.  It was a great sendoff, and added to my already building mojo by providing a concrete goal to shoot for.  I wasn't gonna be responsible for MC losing a bet if I could help it!

Riding to Salt Creek in the daylight was a treat.  I'd done this section 5 times this year, each time loaded, each time in the dark.  I never really liked it that much.  But in the waning light it was a hoot!  It only took about 1:45 to hit the top of the hikeabike, and Plesko was close behind.  He was looking quite strong.  I changed into clear lenses and fired up the deisel.

Everything was flowing like butter, the desert landscape crunching under my wheels at a nice clip.  I don't know if there were tailwinds, but it felt like it.  A nearly full moon was casting light and shadows all over, the temp was perfect, and damn was it good to be cruising steadily.  At the top of the Bitter Creek climb I looked out and saw all the riders lights close together.  It let me know this was a race, not a solo TT - and the sensation made it completely different.  I realized that with competition present, I was riding considerably faster than 2 weeks previous.

And so the desert section went - quickly.  I had a flat spot between WW and Cisco, but the McGraw section started to wake me up and by Yellowjacket I was on fire.  The turbo kicked in big time here and I knocked that bit out in 1:05.  When I hit Dewey bridge the moonlight was making the white stanchions glow so bright I busted out the biggest cowboy howl I could muster.  I was just overwhelmed.  Riding across the bridge, somebody was camped on it.  A group of sight impaired teens (as I later learned) were camped on the bridge.  No wonder they were so confused as I stepped over them and informed them there would be 6 others behind me - this was a race.  "Whhhaaaat?"  Just past the bridge, somebody comes running my way - it was Lynda, my crack buddy who was camping there.  She was on a family rafting trip and wanted to get some shots of the riders coming through.  We chatted a bit, I ate a lot, a quick hug and it was off to the shandies.

I had not been looking forward to the Shandies.  These steep sections of Entrada Bluffs road are super loose sand with rocks, traction is tough and when loaded it can be really draining.  Not tonight.  I was making good time, so did all the Shandies in the dark.  The sun didn't come up until after Hideout actually.  That was perfect timing for a breakfast stop - time to make coffee and have a bagel with hummous - yum!  I was stoked to be here so early and was way ahead of schedule.  Taking 30-40 minutes for breakfast was just fine.  I learned in the solo ride that going sans coffee is suicide for my GI, so I brought lots and lots of the black gold on this trip.

All caffeinated and fed now, the climb up North Beaver mesa went quickly and I began the Paradox trail by10am or so.  The goal to do the climbing before the heat of the day so far was on track. 

I really love this section of riding.  There's a lot of climbing to it, and it hurt me some last time.  This time I was mentally prepared and and just cruised along soaking up every view the east side of the La Sals could offer - and that is many.  This is a  hidden wonderland...

Flowers were everywhere.

It's all gravel road - the surface at least isn't very tough.

Just before dropping to the paradox valley (named so because the Dolores river carves across it, not through it as every other river in the world does in it's canyon) Buckeye res was oh so inviting.  I now regret not spending some time going for a dip here.  Beauty spot.

The descent down Carpenter ridge is steep!  It's a real brake burner and I felt my levers getting closer to the bars.

Headwinds in the Paradox valley, and they were pretty warm.  Nonetheless, I hit Bedrock store at 2:18.  I was shooting for 4, so I had some time to kill.  First things first:  get some ice cream, a Frappaccino, and a V8 and put it all down the hatch.  That done, I considered the next move.  It was in the mid 90s outside and no clouds.  If I kept moving I'd be at Tab creek by 5:30 or so - then what?  I don't like dry camps, and the next spot beyond tab creek with water is the far side of Glencoe Bench - 4-5 hours when feeling good from tab creek.  That just was way more than I wanted to do - and I don't think I could have.  It was hot.  Plus, I was a bit sleepy...and there was a comfy chair in the Bedrock store...and a swamp cooler...and as it was built in the 1800's it was as if time was standing still - peaceful.  I sat in that chair and had a great, cooling nap.  The gal in the store didn't say a peep and I thanked her when I woke.  She was completely unfazed.

Next, get the supplies to finish the route.  Some of that included pop-tarts, but I didn't want the entire box, only 3 of the 4.  A group of Prescott college students had drove up, on a boating trip by the looks of their gear.  I asked them if they wanted the extra pop tart and one guys eyes really lit up.  Sweet tooth in the group, eh?  We chatted about what I was doing - they were fascinated.  Then, one of them offered me an orange.  I'm a real fruit bat and to my dismay there was no fresh fruit at the store - my mouth burst into watering mode.  "Hell yea!"  As he goes to get the orange, it dawns on me that could be construed as support - strictly against the rules of this event.  This was the hardest decision I made the whole race, to tell this guy no thanks I really don't want that orange. Relating that story to MC post trip it turns out it was within the rules to accept it since it wasn't planned...oh well.  Next time I'll accept!

In the meantime, it had clouded over a little.  Still warm, but the ride through the Dolores canyon to the confluence of the San Miguel was quite pleasant.  Intermittent shade from canyon walls made it much cooler.  I was in no hurry here since I was only going to Tab creek.  Once at the creek at about 7:30, I soaked my legs in the creek a bit before making dinner.  The leg soak trick worked well for Lynda & I at TransRockies last year, so what the heck.  It sure felt good.  I was snoring solidly before the sun went down...

I hate alarm clocks and never use them.  I let my body decide when it's time to get up - and it usually tells me it's time darn early.  Sun at 12:14 am is precisely when that happened this time.  And holy moly did I feel good - no stiffness, soreness, just ready to get chomping on a big day.

Since I was pretty tired arriving at the creek the night before, the first order of business is something I did an awful lot of - filtering water.  My filter choice was based on weight more than speed.  I think I got those priorities wrong.  Oh well.  Note the coffee is already made.  Seeing a theme here?

I'm embarrassed to say how long it took between waking up and getting rolling, sometimes I just don't know where the time goes.  But anyway, there were still many hours of darkness left.

This section of the Paradox is a bit of a bear.  It starts out well enough, but quickly turns to one hike a bike after another - both up and down.  It is not well marked either, but thanks to my GPS work and previous rides here I made short work of this difficult section.  It was interesting to see how many signs there actually are, they show up so much better in the dark under lights!

The rough, sandy, nasty conditions give way to grassy meadows and ponderosa forests on Glencoe Bench, still one of my favorite sections of the Grand Loop.  This was the site of breakfast/coffee # 2.  Often the trail was only defined by dead dandilions.

2 weeks ago it was much wetter in all the meadows.  This time conditions were much, much faster.  It was a blast cruising this section this time.

Big views into the upper reaches of Tabeguache creek.

Next is the magical Aspen forests of Hauser road.  The road is well graded most of the way, but does get steep towards to the top.  At this point I'd been riding, oh maybe 5 hours but was feeling really good.  I kept having to check myself:  "back it down harris, remember the horoscope - can't do much with ashes!"  It started to get really cool as I approached Divide road.  Finally, I hit the top at about 10am.

After a quick spin down the Divide road, I'd hit Transfer road and quickly enter the beginning of the Tabeguache trail.  This is where I was turned back by deep snow last time - only 2 weeks previous.  What would it be like now?  There wasn't much snow left on Divide road and that was encouraging.  But the real trouble spots were north facing slopes that receive little sunlight.  At least I had most of the day to work it out....

As it turns out, the snow was GONE.  There were a couple of drifts to go around, and plenty of swampy areas, but it was really all rideable.  I was surprised, and relieved. 

This was as far as I got last time - there was no exposed dirt AT ALL.  Now there is no snow.  That was fast.

The singletrack was actually quite tech - lots of roots, steep in spots and demanding.  Even with good conditions it wasn't very fast going, and I was beginning to feel human.  Just in time, I hit the Roubideau trail proper, a fast, rocky descent of about 1000 feet on two track.  This is where conditions really take a turn, and the beginning of what I figure would take a lot of time - must finish before dark.

The Uncomphagre plateau is massive.  Now that  I've seen it from the Divide road - a dirt road that  follows it's spine - and the Tabeguache trail, it's still hard to wrap my head around just how immense this landform is.  The Roubideau section drops away from the spine of the plateau and crosses 15 (!) drainages before climbing back up onto the spine.  The Tab trail designer is a bit twisted methinks, and I thank him/her for the demensia.  It goes something like this:  rocket down some steep eroded scary ash hell trail to the bottom of a drainage, cross a creek getting your feet wet, then hike out the other side with said wet feet.  A few of the ups are rideable, most are not.  From canyon bottoms you have no clue where on earth you are, other than inside your cloistered forest home.  In between drainages are mesa tops where the world opens up to massive views and the riding is oh so easy and pleasant.

Typical  trail conditions.

The last 3 of these drainages were huge with 15-30 minute hikes out of each.  This is Potter canyon, filled with marshes and small lakes, it was absolutely gorgeous.  It was tough going but is there a better place on earth to be?  Despite my dislike for hike a bikes, there was no complaining coming forth.  The pics just don't do this spot justice.  It's a real "have to be there" place.

I was a bit unsure what conditions were going to be like after the last drainage crossing.  My GPS routing was telling me to turn left where there was no trail or road, and I was loathe to leave the nice track I was currently on.  Unsure what to do, I sat down and pulled out some food, something I almost always did when unsure of which way to go.  No coffee this time though ;)  Then I looked up and saw a Tab trail marker pointing right where my GPS was telling me to go.  Well I'll be.  The GPS routing work saved the day once a gain.  I thought about Fred who didn't have a GPS and how it was going to be so confusing for him at this spot, especially since I had overshot the turn leaving tracks in both directions. 

Heading off into the grass, a trail began a 100 feet later.   It was faint, slow, bumpy, and prolly my least favorite part of the whole Tab.  I was ready for some fast moving roads and this was a slow boat to China.  Oh well.  Finally, FINALLY, this slow piece of semi-trail mostly grass led to a major dirt road.  Just before the intersection there were all sorts of aspen logs tossed across the trail and no trespassing signs - and a Tab trail marker sign.  Access issues on the horizon here for sure.

A short while later I came to Cottonwood road.   Fast, scenic riding.   Oh yea!  I had made it through the Roubideau with plenty of light to spare - it was about 5pm.  I celebrated the day with a 2 hour nap, dinner, and coffee.  A large area of stately ponderosas and the soft pine mat underneath was too inviting to pass up.

It's just amazing how much coffee & a nap can bring me back to life.  Cruising the ups and downs of Cottonwood road in the waning light was truly magical.  The evening light was filtering through the fresh greeness of apsen trees.  John Denver's "Rocky Mountain High" was doing loops through my conciousness.  I know according to most of the reports I've read of folks doing this loop I should have been deep in the pain cave right  now, but honestly, euphoria was closer to my state of mind.  I almost feel like I should be apologetic.  Almost.

Climbing up 25 mesa the ponderosa gave way to spurce/fir as I gained  ~ 1,500' towards the high point of 9,600'.  It was now dark and almost spooky here - this was new terrain, the first time night riding in unfamiliar terrain this trip.  A huge canyon or drop off seemed to loom off to the left and I wished I was there in time to catch that view in the daytime, but the nap was worth it.

Soon I'd be hitting the Divide road, and shortly after that stretch came the Dominguez section.  It was all new to me and not knowing where the next water would be I stopped and filtered to capacity.  It's a good thing I did this where I did, because there was some climbing afterwards and it was getting cold.  I needed the warm up.

Divide road was fast and easy and mostly with tailwinds.  It was a rush to descend at 30 mph through deep forests in the dark.  Eyes were everywhere, picked up by my homebrew lights.  However, it was getting cold.  I stopped several times to put on more layers, and before long I was going homeless style - I was wearing everying I had.

Dropping down off the top of the Unc towards Dominguez creek, it's all downhill.  And it got MUCH colder.  I was beginning to have some difficulty - I couldn't see very well and was shivering.  The constant descending offered no relief to the cold.

I was hoping to make it to the finish in one push through the night, but I'd been on the move for roughly 21 hours at this point and it didn't feel at all safe to continue.  Time to concede and bivvy.

I was soooo cold.  All chammied up, wearing everying I had with me, I crawled into my bag.  As always, I put some calories down the hatch before sleeping, but not much this time.  I had to get some heat going.  Coyotes were howling away all around me, but that didn't keep me from drifting into deep sleep.

I didn't budge until daylight, about 5.5-6 hours later.  First thing I did was check the trail for tire tracks - something I always did after bivvying.  With no reports coming my way, I had  no idea if anyone was close behind.  I half expected to see Plesko's tracks - but there were only my own.

Damn was it cold!  A water bottle had frozen, my bivvy was covered in ice.  This wasn't the expected weather...and meant the extremes of this event were something like upper 20's to mid 90's.  As always though, coffee and food snaps me right into action, and after sleeping for what seemed forever, I felt like a  million bucks.  It's time to knock this thing out.  I only had 55-60 miles left to go at this point and ~ 15 hours to do it to best the record pace.  Only a catastrophy was going to stop me from ensuring MCs ice cream!

Yesterday at the end of the Roubideau section I left my chain lube somewhere...luckily I had a bit of olive oil with me.  It makes good chain lube, FYI!

Clipping into the pedals today was a little different than the day before.  I was a bit tight and it took some time to warm up.  Fortunately, Dominguez road has some great rolling climbs after crossing the creek.  It is wide open sage plains, big views in all directions but the sort that a camera just doesn't catch well.  Flowers were off the charts as well.  It wasn't long until I was back in the groove, and since this was the last day I was raising the pace some and loving it.

Before I knew it the road was dive-bombing down to Dominguez campground.  A real ripper of a descent and the scenery was turning towards red sandstone canyon country.  Then it hit me - BAM!  I was so choked up.  This is when I knew I'd finish strong, that 3 days of hammering away was within my grasp, that I was on the final leg of the most difficult cycling journey I'd ever done.  And, that I'd set a new course record in the process.  But it wasn't so much these thoughts that triggered it, but the scenery, the sensory overload.  Tears began to roll...just as they had done on day 7 at TransRockies last year.

Holy crap Harris, there's people at the campground, pull your shit together man!  I hate it when folks interfere with a white moment...

The campground is an awesome oasis, fully equiped with vault toilets.  Ah, the good life.  After filtering a bunch, rolling up the road a couple hundred yards there's a pipe coming from a spring..doh!  I filled another bottle just for good meaure.  After a short steep climb out of the canyon, it's on to the Cactus park section.

Cactus park was a blast.  There's a slightly descending road, very sandy, that you can just fly down.  What a surprise that was, moving 20+ in the sand for miles.  In general, the Dominguez road and Cactus park sections have a  lot more descending that ascending as you go from 8900 at Divide road to ~ 5000 at Hwy 141.  That isn't to say there isn't any climbing, it's still the Tab after all.  But nothing too tech or demanding.  Cactus park proper was very green and I was pushed by massive tailwinds coming across it.  Just before the final descent to 141 is this spot:

An awesome limestone ledge with big views, much like Murphy's on the White Rim.  I christen this the Murphy's of the Grand Loop :)  I stopped here for 2nd breakfast which consisted of a bagel, almond butter, and cold soup.  Odd combo, yes - but after the descent to 141 I was going to be hitting the 9 mile  climb "no mas hill" in the heat of the day.  Salty soup seemed like the thing to toss down.  My options were a bit limited now anyway.

I started up 9 mile at 11:30.  At under 5,000 initially, it was hot.  At first it is techy singletrack, most of which I found unrideable.  This was seriously bumming me out - I didn't know if it was going to be like this all the way or not - but it quickly turned into jeep track with improving conditions.  As it turns out, it was mostly a middle ring affair.

This was the homestretch in my mind.  Only 22 miles left!  Time to drop the hammer, and that I did.  I was maching up that hill.  It was effortless, I felt weightless, I was grinning ear to ear.  And I was sweating like a glass of icewater in the tropics.  About an hour from 141 I hit the 6500' mark (the climb goes to 7200), and at the same time got the gurgling sound of an empty camelback bladder.  NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!  Things could get real ugly out here all of a sudden.  I backed the pace waaay down to conserve that last bottle of water I'd grabbed from the Dominguez pipe.

Now I was a bit ticked at myself.  I had totally underestimated how much water I'd need in the final stretch, and what was worse in the heat of hammering that climb I wasn't even paying attention to how fast I was drinking.  Worst of all, I had to back it down.  That was just not what I was in the  mood for right then and there.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, I found water.  Manna from heaven?  When your mojo is strong, it can sometimes make up for stupid mistakes, but it's best not to count on that...anyway, I was oh so relieved.  And hydrated.

The next few miles were quite technical, but more down than up and before I knew it there was my little red truck in the distance.  I rolled into the Tabeguache trailhead parking lot at 3:02 PM, for an elapsed time of 2:19:47, completing the hardest, most demanding event to date.  The satisfaction of completing this loop is as immense as the Uncompaghre plateau.  There are only a few of us that have managed to finish this one out.

That is the end of my ride story, but it isn't the end of the experience.  There's a lot more I'd like to say - in time - regarding MC's part in this ride and my continuing "education";  those that have helped me achieve this goal either through direct support or inspiration; a thing or tow about what I know of other rider's rides; and some about the state of ultra racing in general.

But it's high time I get something posted, the hits to this blog have been off the charts lately, so here ya go, thanks for reading, and here's to more adventures!

"Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. Security does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than exposure." - Helen Keller

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It's game time.  All the planning, training, anticipation have culminated in this moment.  Today I begin a solo time trial of the Grand Loop.

As you can tell lately, this isn't something I'm taking lightly.  This route has nearly destroyed tougher men than I.

For perspective in the profile below, the Kokopelli trail/Paradox (gateway rd) intersection is at mile 102.  It's actually about 113 to this point...my mapping produces shorter than actual mileages.  Lots of time in the desert, lots of time in the alpine.  The last 150 miles I know only by the maps...it is intimidating.  High elevation, uber tough trail conditions (by reports), abundant wildlife, as remote as any spot in the lower 48.  I am fascinated by this stretch...

Some comforting words came my way yesterday.

- Mike Curiak (who established this race) upon learning of my plan:  "sheeeeit, glad it's you and not me..."
- Sager:  "it's an interesting place you guys go."  He ain't talking geography either.

But I can take comfort in knowing it has been done before.  Mostly I'm just thrilled to have the health and fitness to contemplate such a ride.  It will be a great learning experience.  New limits will surely be found, and with luck, extended.

The schedule:  I'll leave GJ this evening about 6:30 pm, which should have me starting the KT about 8pm.  Just enough light to get through some techy bits.  I'll call Mike from Bedrock, CO and he may post updates to MTBR in this thread, or he may make a new one.  Not sure...

To all those doing KTR, good luck, play fair, and I'll (eventually) miss y'all, but I'll be deep in my own cocoon during your race.  If the plan pans out I'll be at the Virginian hotel in Moab Sun am, prolly dead as a dodo but willing go out for b-fast and swap stories.  Hope to see some of y'all there.

More and more I am becoming aware of a paradigm shift in my athletic inclinations.  For example, the Kokopelli Trail Race.  I did it twice last year, first, second.  Very different rides.  The first was a mass start event with 56 starters, the second was a solo training mission.

The mass start event was a blast.  Starting at midnight under a full moon was unforgetable, no doubt.  The vibe on the start line was thick as pea soup.

The solo mish was, without a doubt, my favorite 1 day ride last year.  Now why would that be I ask myself...

I could go on and on about this paradox.  Mass start events usually come with a goal of victory, and to be  honest, I have no desire to "beat" others.  I absolutely enjoy riding near my limits on a regular basis (duh) but don't relish the thought that doing so might diminish others enjoyment of their efforts.  I say this because when I am unsuccessfully chasing in an event, I usually find my limits before expected because sensations are muted in this instance.  I don't know I'm pushing as hard as I am until it's too late.  And that isn't very fun. 

If you've raced with me, this might sound like horseshit.  In the heat of battle, I am very focused, level headed, and will do all in my power to chase you down or leave you choking on my dust.  That's the rule of the game.  The shift is that my enjoyment of this game is waning.  More often than not, I find myself preferring to smell the roses.

Back to that solo mish:  now that's the sort of thing that turns my crank.  Why?  Because its me and the course and it's as simple as that.  It's pure.  The only external influence on my actions is the wind, sun, trail.  To me, this is the essence of athleticism - or dare I say the human experience.

The 3rd race would be team events.  In TransRockies last year I discovered a new type of racing, one requiring teamwork, synergy, and focus towards a common goal.  That is entirely different because with the right partner you will help each other reach new levels of performance.  Maybe that is the human experience.

In any case, as I look at my early season racing schedule there are some things that don't quite gel.  For one, the Payson race.  It's hard to get excited for lap races these days (thanks a lot Curiak) in general, but when I learned it was staged in a county fairgrounds (read:  animal manure and flies) and there is no singletrack - life is just too short to spend doing that sort of event, and I can't bring myself to ask a support crew to hang out in the fairgrounds for 36  hours swatting flies.  So, about 2 weeks after registering for it, it's off the plan.  That leaves a big hole, cause I have been building fitness for the event.  I'm shaking things up a bit like this:

This weekend I'll do a solo KTR mish.  So far no shuttle plans so I may park in Moab Sat, ride to Fruita via pavement, sleep a few hours in a hotel then blast away.  That will push the 16 day TSS total to ~ 3500, not a bad 2 week binge total if you ask me.  From there its a taper and sharpen period to the weekend of the scheduled KTR.  Depending on conditions, I will either do the GLR route or KTR that weekend.  I'd prefer to do the GLR route, but if the Unc is still snowy then I'll chase moonbeams & rabbits with y'all.

For certain, I will put everything I have into solo 24 hour worlds this year.  Time will tell whether or not it is a one-off event.  What really gets me excited for '07 is a solo GLR attempt and BC Bike Race.

Kudos (or condolences) if you've made it this far.  These are some concepts that have been rattling between my ears for awhile.  Hope it came out right, but I doubt it...

Remember this gal?

That's right, Lynda is back in action, and as far as I can tell she's as strong as ever - and oh so appreciative to be outside riding big climbs and taking in big views once again.  Having something taken away from you for awhile makes it all the sweeter on it's return.

It was the perfect weekend.  Sat was a solo White Rim mission.  I hadn't done the WR in the spring before, wow was I ever missing out.  It's green!  Flowers were in full force, the sand of January was gone, packed firm by the hordes of tour support vehicles and recent moisture.  Easy crusing in comparision - except for the wind. 

Sunday I teamed up with Lynda and Dave Byers to check out the Kokopelli trail from Dewey Bridge to Moab.  Adam and EdE had just done it the day before, and we met them Sat afternoon after they finished their ride and shuttle.  The ride is considerably more epic in this direction.  Except for the last major climb, the elevation gained is on sandy, rocky terrain as opposed to pavement/hardpack coming from Moab.  The climb from Cows Head Hill to Beaver Mesa is long but generally not steep and was really my favorite part of the day.  The views just keep coming at you and before you know it you're up in the pines.

Here's Dave on that climb overlooking Fisher Valley and Top of the World.

Weather - we got it all.  Sun, rain, snow, wind - it is definitely springtime!  But, there is no snow to speak of at 8500' in the La Sals.  When we got to the Paradox trail junction I felt a strong pull and started heading in the wrong direction...

About 14 hours of riding this weekend, every second of it heavenly.

The past week I've been in Backcountry Experience no less than 4 times.  The 3rd time one of the guys that work there saw me walk in the door and exclaimed "Buy me backpacking now!"  OK, so he didn't get the specifics right.  Bikepacking would have been a better term.  But I did buy it last week, LOL.  As it turns out, the Grand Loop Race is going to be more expensive than doing the BC Bike race this year.

1 lb down bag
Bivy
pad
stove and pot (7.3 oz!)
compression sacks
backpack
hydration bladders

Nothing left to do but give it a test run, so instead of doing the big group rimride pre-ride, I opted for a solo overnight of the Kokopelli Trail.  That route is just nothing but good vibes.

School was in session.  Packing for a self-supported overnight by bike took as much time as getting ready for a 24 hour.  Ugh.  That put me at the Fruita side of the KT at 5pm on Saturday.  I've got good lights and was looking forward to some time in the dark. 

The sunset was a beauty on the Troy Built trail.

It's getting green out there already.  Springtime is making an early showing.

So the big question for this type of effort is how much you can do without.  This I learned in retrospect ;)  Hiking up from Salt Creek with a 45 lb rig and wearing a 20 lb backpack felt a lot like work.  Reading various GLR reports I was wondering why nobody hit the Bedrock store before it closed.  Well duh.  Aside from the heat riders faced last year, it's a whole nuther ballgame with a loaded bike and backpack - everything you need for 3-4 days.

Yep, that's the Dos Niner all loaded up there.  Big, big revelations with this rig.  First of all, I've never got much suspension travel out of the softail design.  I'm too light to get it to move.  But - put a trunk on the back with my grub, and a heavy pack - suddenly the bike felt as smooth (or better) than the Fuel.  I was getting full travel out of it and it felt great!  Much to my surprise, the 29" wheels felt great with a loaded rig.  With this much weight it just feels like it holds momentum so well.  This bike was just about to get dissassembled and sold...but maybe not. 

So...how to carry all the creature comforts?  I put a small rack on the front and the Delta seatpost mounted rack on the rear.  The front held strong, but the seatpost rack was a no go.  For starters, I was riding conservatively on any descent cause I was afraid it would break my post while I was out of the saddle and I'd sit back down on a sharp dagger.  That'd be bad.  Turns out the Easton EA70 held strong but the rack didn't:

So...everything gets redistributed between my pack and the front.  No biggie. 

And the riding?  What a hoot.  Cruising through the Rabbit Valley area in the dark, I come around a corner to hear ~ 20 generators.  RVs on the KT?  And then the real treat, getting chased by dogs in the dark.  Sweet.

Speaking of dogs, the sheep (and their big dogs) are in the Cisco area right now.  That big pooch stood squarely in the middle of the road, waiting for me, but as I approached his tail started to wag and he was smiling.  If you encounter this fella, just say something nice to him and stay away from his sheep, no matter how lonely it is out there ;)

As the high points of the KT near Moab are still under snow, I opted to finish the ride with an out and back from Dewey bridge to Top of the World.  It was a good litmus test to see what a 3000 foot steep techy climb will feel like loaded after 5 hours of riding.  At the top of the climb, suddenly the trail ends and you ARE at the top of the world.  Breathless, literally.

Dead silence, that is.  As I seem to recall, the last thing I wrote on this blog was "damn I love September".  About 2 days later I got slammed by the other job (the one that pays the bills)...and since I don't have Martini's "check engine light" syndrome, with Moab looming that means an even more extreme bi-modal existence that usual.  Working and riding become the two primary activities, all else takes a backseat (or is chucked out the window, actually).  Even sleep becomes minimal.

That other life I lead is feast or famine, and suddenly it's famine time, leaving time to play catch-up on things that didn't make it out of the window.  This blog, for instance, in case anyone is still checking :)  Thanks for the emails of concern, BTW.

In training land, things are going great.  OK, beyond great.  A big CTL dump (aka rest) following the E100 left me with a lot of training reserves and I've been squandering the power like it's free.  Specific training mid-week and big riding on the weekends is the typical fare.  A few weeks back one of the rides was a road cruise to Mesa Verde.  I'd never been beyond the tunnel (about 4 miles into the park), but beyond the tunnel lies tons of great climbing, fun roads, and well, some bitchin' archealogy as well.  Great riding if you ever get the chance.  Just know ahead of time there's a tunnel of about 1/4 mile.  It's straight so you can see the light at the end...you just can't see the road beneath you.  Cool stuff.

I wasted no time getting back to the Utah desert.  Those that know me wonder why I live in Colorado because it seems I'm drawn to Utah spring, summer and fall.  There could be a move in my future...but that is another story!  Anyway, the following weekend was a camping affair in Canyonlands.  After a breakfast to this sunrise, the day held a quick trip around the White Rim, one of my favorites.

But wait...there's more!  This past weekend the Pocket Rocket (the real one) & I met in Canyonlands for what was originally going to be a day on the Moab course pre-riding, a day on the first half of the KTR route, then a White Rim day.  Ma nature had other plans for us though.  The beginning of the weekend saw some nutty cold weather for September - we even had a few inches of snow where we camped.  The KTR plans were nixed as the route goes over 8,500 a couple of times - it was pure white up there.  Of course it turned out for the better - we did back to back White Rim days and was it ever awesome.  Perfect weather and there was water everywhere as all the potholes were full. 

Lynda is flying.  Her combined times for the back to back white rims was something under 16 hours, and that's just silly. 

The past weekend put my CTL at an all-time high of 150, a mark I've yet to hit.  Funny thing though, there's more to give.  A lot more - yes, this is a manic confession.  Now that I've suddenly got a ton of time on my hands, I'm going to do one more big push this weekend (prolly Saturday) with an assault on the Kokopelli trail.  Between a couple blunders and bad luck on my ride there in May, it left me wanting to do it better.  It really falls in with my final long ride theory leading to a 24 as well.

One other thing the KTR weekend will do is some serious bike melding.  You see, I'm making the Yeti ASR the primary race bike for Moab, thanks to some huge support from Kong and Andy at Desert Cyclery in St. George, Utah.  They totally rock, which is yet another story...but anyway, the Yeti has received well over 300 miles of abuse in the last 5 days and it wants a bit more.  It climbs like a scalded duck and descends like no other bike I've ridden, and I'm pretty amped about that!

The old and the new come face to face:

With the Steamboat 24 next weekend, final prep & shakedown was the order of the weekend.  This was somewhat delayed by a bout of food poisoning, so now I'm extra rested and lighter than anticipated.  I'm making up for lost time at the dinner table though, but trying to hold back - the real fueling begins Wednesday.  A couple of interesting bits:

Lights, lights,  lights.  The LED project continues.  The previous version was solid as it got me through 7 hours of darkness on the Kokopelli trail, but turned out to be just a bit much on the helment for that duration (batteries were on my nogin too), didn't have as much throw as I like, and the electronics were integrated with the battery, not the lights.  I've made another creation, and it's considerably different.  The last version used optics, solid acrylic lenses.  I recently found a source for 3 different sizes of reflectors made to fit the Luxeon LEDs, each with different beam patterns.  Reflectors are what you see when you look at the business end of a flashlight - think chrome plated cone.  The beam pattern is two-fold for these, a tight spot in the center, and a wide dim portion.  In other words, perfect for night riding!  Loads of throw.  In fact, of the 3 reflector sizes, I chose the one with the shortest throw.  The other 2 were too much spot, more like lasers.  Combined with a 5W Lux bar mount with 10 degree optic and all bases are covered for minimal weight.  I think I'm getting close to the holy grail of lighting here...

Other features - square tubing provided just enough room to get the buckpuck inside of the light housing, although I did have to solder wires directly to it as the harness wouldn't fit.  No more battery mounted electronics.  I've also installed a potentiometer directly to the housing - made waterproof by spit and glue - for infinite power control.  Total weight is about 30-40 grams lighter than the last one.  6 hours of brightness for 240 grams system weight.  Here'tis:

Bikes, bikes, bikes.  The Dos is out for this one - it's a climbing liability.  In fact, it's been cannibalized to make 2 sweet Fuels.  The Dos has a SS setup in it's very near future...

I found a cheap but new Reba U-turn fork.  The U-turn allows you to adjust the travel on the fly from 85mm to 115mm.  Very cool feature as you can immediately feel how changing geometry affects bike handling, and let me tell ya, its a lot.  On the Fuel with ~100mm, handling was a bit off on a steep climb so I dialed it back to 85 and badabing, it settled down and tracked nicely, just like a hopey damper was installed.  115mm is fun for straight descents, but didn't feel right otherwise.  One thing I noticed is the air pressure must change when the travel is changed.  I set the pressures with the fork at 100mm, but when dialed down to 85mm it got pretty stiff.  Bleeding a touch of positive air solved that.

Now for some randomness...

The Grand Loop Race is going on right now.  This is a doosy of an endurance event.  Promoted by Mike Curiak, it takes in 340 miles and 48,000' of climbing in Utah & Colorado.  The course record is something over 3 days, and as Mike says, is the hardest endurance event he's aware of...and if he isn't aware of it, it probably doesn't exist.  It startes with an easy stroll of the KTR course from Fruita to the LaSals, then parts unkown from there.  Completely self-supported like KTR, only 10x harder.  I had considered this event for this year, but I'm not even close to ready for it.  Next year?  Check out Mike's updates & commentary on the event here.  3 of the 6 starters are still on course, but no finishers yet.  They started Friday evening and have been busting butt ever since.  Awe and respect.

If you haven't seen "Walk the Line", put it on the list.  I never really "got" Johnny Cash & his outlaw country style of music as it's pretty far beyond my musical boundaries, but the movie was so good it changed all that.  More good stuff to listen to Sunday at 3am ;) 

Mike Curiak is an underground Laird Knight, an enduro junkies pimp.  He's cooked up an unsupported race through 142 miles of mountain and desert.  Are you self-reliant?  Resourceful?  Smart?  Lucky?  It'll take more than good legs to get to the finish line of this epic adventure.  And those that do...and some that won't...will be thanking Mike for the crack fix he's cooking up.

The rules are completely foreign to me, and at first pass I thought "what the hell?  Does he want to see folks die out there?"  No outside support.  No drops.  Bring what you need or do without.  No drafting.

The funny thing is, as I was preriding the route over the weekend, I gained a good bit of clarity on why those rules are set up the way they are.  It is the purest of individual pursuits, the purest accomplishment to complete the event under ones own power, entirely.  It demands a certain toughness from which MTB riding has it's roots, but have gone the way of the dodo with the myriad of supported event formats. 

KTR may kill me, but it is a beautiful quest to consider.

Now, for those of you considering the event, you must decide right now whether to keep reading.  Reading this will help you prepare, perhaps...but may also take away some of the surprises in store.  If you prefer surprises over survival, stop right here X.
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There are a lot of tricky elements to this race.  It has some of everything, something for everyone.  Lots of climbing.  Lots of ledgy, rocky jeep trail.  If you like the Moab 24 hour course, you'll be right at home.  It's also got quite a bit of smooth dirt road and pavement, that if the winds are good you'll scoot effortlessly across; if headwinds are the order of the day add 2 hours. 

Some tidbits.  Consider the source - neither of us had ridden any of these trails before (except sand flats road).

• there is no perfect tire choice.  Anything you choose will have trade-offs.  I'll air on the side of floatation for sandy/rocky conditions.
• Water.  You'll think about it a lot during this ride.  Fisher creek is good, but way high up and early in the race.  The Colorado river is accessible at Dewey (albeit requiring a bit of a scramble under the hwy bridge), and 12 miles later the trail goes right alongside the river, easy access there.  It's muddy though.  Westwater has tap water, but will cost at least 10 minutes.  Salt creek is big, fast, and muddy.  The next 11 miles past Salt creek will be challenging with the previous 130 in your legs...so if you're dry...I'm sure there are other options I'm missing here, but the salty dogs that have done this before have earned the right to hold those cards closely.
• Lights:  don't feck around if you are serious.  Moonlight ain't gonna work in a lot of spots.  The lead riders will likely be to Dewey by sunrise - and guess what - the hardest terrain of the course (except the Fruita singletrack) is the second half of the Slick rock and Dewey section.  Part of that includes a 3000+ foot descent on jeep roads of varying quality.  Lighting will be a big issue here.
• Difficulty:  it varies wildy...but every time I was tempted to call it the "Kokopelli Road Race", some twist would settle me down.  There is basically no singletrack until mile 130 or so...but that doesn't mean it's easy.  The first 2.5-3 hours is mostly climbing, including one long paved descent (with some very sharp surprise curves waiting in the dark).  It gets more interesting as you descend out of the LaSals.  The views are great too BTW!  The surprise part of the course for us was the section past some biatch of a hike-a-bike, I think it's called Rose Garden Hill?  The two cottonwood canyons...lots of super slow, techy climbing in sand, that'll be challenging in the dark.  How rigid guys get through this is beyond me...I kept thinkng of Ed on his 34x18 29er rigid and going OMG as I was in my 22x30 full squish and thinking it was harsh...The 10 mile section past Dewey is also a bit challenging, mostly from sand.  After that the course is relatively easy, not nearly as much climbing...until Salt creek, anyway.
• Signage:  the route is marked quite well up to Rabbit Valley.  The Rabbit valley and Loma trails are poorly (or not at all) marked.  Pre-ride this if you can; finding your way through this area in the dark would be, well, impossible without GPS or prior knowledge.

In pictures.

The top of the first extended section of climbing.  8300' elevation.

Lots of these kinds of views.  We won't see 'em on race night tho.

Lynda isn't even peaking for this event, but damn is she riding well!  She's a tireless crackhead.

Funny story about this hill.  It's known (I think) as Rose Garden.  I've got a different name, though.  Lynda and I got separated at one point, and I had been planning on stopping at some water sources to filter...but by this point realized I'd blown right past them all.  Dumbass.  As I descending to the base of this nasty climb, a cocophany of magpies greeted me with their laughing ridicule "dumbass, dumbass, dumbass!!!"  For me, this will forever be Magpie Hill.  Strange mojo here, tread with caution.

It's all a hike.  Here's looking down Magpie Hill.

Flower season is on!

There are a few more pics here.

All in all, it is an enormous undertaking to complete this course in a day.  I did use a powermeter and scored about 850 TSS points over 2 days, and we had nuclear tailwinds both days.  Lighting, water, feeding, pacing, luck, karma, common sense, clear thinking under duress, and plain old brawn will all have to align just so to reach the finish of this one. 

It's an epic I eagerly anticipate.

Last evening I got a view of Durango that was completely new to me.  Sorry, didn't have the camera in tow...  Last weekend Walker mentioned the new singletrack heading up Missionary Ridge that starts under the Edgemont sign up Florida road, so it was time to probe something new.  To my surprise, this new trail extended roughly half way up the Durango Hills climb, cutting out much (almost all) of the residential riding and pops out onto FR 071.  Bumpy as new trails tend to be, but a great singletrack climb just 10 minutes from my front door.  Ah...it's good to be back!

But wait, there's more.  This is the route commonly ridden to reach the Haflin descent or Missionary ridge trail, but the ridge top is still a bit wet/snowy above 9500' (it should still be 5 feet deep in snow, be scared, very scared).  Rather than hit one of those trails, I looked for another route down along the southbound edge of the ridge.  That's where the big views came into play - the LaPlatas, Weminuche, Animas Mtn, Animas river, my house - all in plain view from new perspectives.  Evidently it's mostly private land - the amount of development up there was STAGGERING.  Most of that terrain is 20-30% grade too, they will develop anywere around here.

In other news, Lynda and I are doing a Kokopelli Trail recon this weekend.  Tomorrow is Moab to Dewey, Sunday is Dewey to Loma.  Really looking forward to this weekend, it'll be a lot more fun than the unsupported 142 mile backcountry race in 2 weeks ;)  Goals for this weekend:  determine where water access lies (but will they still be there in 2 weeks???); get a read on tire choice; figure out how to carry all the stuff needed for this race; get more acquainted with my new Hyper 2.5 Wingnut pack (review forthcoming).  Those are the strategic goals...on the training front, the weekend will finalize my base 2 (no, not Friel speak...first base ended Jan23, I prefer a 3 month repeating cycle for much of the year) with CTL 140 and a 30 day rolling of 5000.  I've been here twice before, but never felt this fresh - weird!

Pics, report, water source info to come.  Stay tuned.