Bay Area Super Prestige #2: Sierra Point Night Race

This was not only my first ever sanctioned race, but this was also my first time even attending a cross race. I wanted to ride out there early, see the course, and watch some of the early races, but some personal stuff happened and my friend Nat and I drove in about an hour before our race. I was so glad Nat was there to show me the ropes of how to do racing (where to put my jersey number, when to do lap warmups, etc.), I would have been so lost otherwise.

We kept loose and tried to get one more lap of the course before we were called to the line. Like before any race I let my nerves go (it helps build adrenaline, which helps me go faster). The whistle blew; and off we went. I started middle of the pack, probably closer to the back. I tried not to eat shit in the pack (riding in a group is new to me), we bottlenecked on the first turn, but bottlenecked worse on the mud where there is only one line. I ran it to try to take a few places only to hop back on for another bottleneck (I wish I had seen some more of the course, because now I know that was a place to run too).

The first lap was tight, but by the time we rounded the final bend the race opened up some. I tried to focus on picking off the people in front of me, which it felt like I was doing. I honestly only really remember people passing me when I put my face on the ground (note to self; it doesn't belong there). From there I rode pretty clean and picked people off slowly but surely. I pushed it hard to the final bell. There were three folks I followed the last lap that I just couldn't quite catch, oh well, I still felt good about my race; that is, until I saw the results, 46th of 73rd. I guess I can't complain since it was my first sanctioned race ever and besides one spill, I rode pretty clean and safe.

Our race ended right at dusk. Once the sun set below the peninsula hills the beer started flowing. Being a sucker, I had work at 8 AM the next morning, so I opted to drive and not drink, but it didn't matter the party gathered up on "Heckle Hill" for some shenanigans. The race, the party, everything, I cannot wait for the next cross race. I'm hoping to make it down to the Surf City race next weekend in Santa Cruz. We'll see!

Dollar handups!

Stop smiling, this is racing, it's not supposed to be fun.

Jortz!

The Everchanging Cross Check...

 

 ...will get a new change tomorrow (well, some minor tweaks). The last time I updated what I was riding was for the Trans Am Race. Well, the night before the Trans Northern California I took some boutiquey shots of the bike before I left (does the self consciousness of being a total and huge bike dweeb ever wear off in taking these photos?).

This was the big difference, big, meaty, Kenda Slant-Six's.

Good hardpack profile, with some decent grip.

They juuuuuust squeeze in.

This was a headache. I would come to find that I would need that little bit of extra room in the dropout, so it was me and Jonathan strangling this thing the night before in our hotel room in Boomtown.

See that word Sealant? These are Kenda's that are latex friendly, either way, I went latex free and Slimed 'em.

I did not opt for dirt drops. That was stupid, my back hurt on these bars. I also think having a more up-to-date 31.8 clamp might have helped the bangs and also helped with control, but live and learn. (Also, pink makes you go faster).

I recently learned that the XT 9-speed derailleurs work well on 10-speed XT cassettes and have the same pull length as 105 10-speed STI shifters. That will be an upgrade eventually. Also, that is a road Tiagra triple up front, what a poor choice for this race. 

It's not really all that different from the Trans Am build, mostly just changed the tires out and got new cranks, but either way, it looks pretty killer no? 

(Note: I did not edit any of these pictures because I was lazy and my camera decided to shoot in .JPG instead of .RAW. So be it)

Reno to Mendocino: A Cross Eyed Perspective

An Introduction to Beating Yourself Up

It didn't take me long to push myself. The beginning of the race was a 2,000 ft climb, starting on fire road before turning to dual track. Riding a cross bike, I knew this was where I needed to shine, faster on the ups, slower on the downs. I pushed hard. When I hit the dual track I was by my lonesome. I wasn't solo long though. When I stopped to peal off my jacket, Blake and Kurt rounded the corner behind me. Back wheels spun out over the babyhead sized rocks (a Sierra specialty), the sun gleamed on the two racers, backdropped by the far reaches of Eastern California and the beginning of Nevada stretching out in the valley below. It was framed so perfectly, I wanted to snap it and save it forever, but I wasn't here for the photographs. It was time to race.

As expected, over the top, Blake and Kurt shifted quick and rocketed down the craggy descent. I'd catch Kurt on the dirt road; but Blake would be nothing but tire tracks for the remainder of the race. Kurt and I would end up matching paces and navigating this new course. Some bikewhacking ensued and a fair amount of general guessing of where we should go. I tried hanging on with Kurt as long as I could,  over gravel roads, skinny rocky fire roads, dual track, and even the occasional pavement. As the day wore on the heat started to get to me. The thought of eating was revolting. I tried to force things down, but as they touched my tongue they were immediately the worst tasting thing ever. I had to let Kurt go, get off the bike and take a breather. The breathers were longer than I wanted, but hanging with Kurt put some distance between me and those behind me. After some snacks, I mustered up some energy and pushed onward. From there things only got worse. It was singletrack time. My speed would drop, further extending my time til Burgee Dave's. The single track was fun, or at least would have been, had I not been totally spent from 70+ miles of riding. I tried to find rhythms and groove. When I finally found it I saw a piece of granite on the middle of the trail and I thought I'd be badass and hop that granite. Well; lesson learned, don't do that if you don't know what's on the other side, because it was a 2 ft drop, my front wheel kept pointing downward and my rear upward. Rubber side was the wrong way. I hit the ground hard. I dusted myself off, pushed my lever back to where it should be. Recollected and took the rest of it at a more sensical pace.

It would be a lot of start and stop for me to Camptonville. On the final section of singletrack I felt like giving up. Everything hurt; my head, my stomach, my legs. I couldn't imagine pushing more. The following fire road was steep and had me pushing my bike up it; I was completely out of gas. While walking I heard gravel crushing behind me and saw a light wavering in the trees. It was the only single speeder, only woman, and all-around total crusher Alice Drobna. We chatted for a second and I told her I was ready to quit. She offered encouragement before we went back to our respective speeds. We'd meet up again at Burgee Dave's.

A vegan burger, salad, fries, and two Cokes and I was starting to feel a little put together. Alice left shortly before me, Sam and Troy would roll in and leave after me. The next bit was fun singletrack around the reservoir. Thankfully my Fenix LD22s were bright enough to keep me on the trail and not fall down the ditch. I'd roll up and down and pop out at the dam where Sam was waiting (he passed me on the trail). We agreed to push on to Oroville. He was moving faster, so I let him go. The desire for sleep was hitting me hard. My plan was to push on with no sleep, but the course was so physically and mentally draining that I had to lay down. At around 2AM I rolled over along the side of the road and took an hour or so off the bike. Waking, feeling slightly refreshed, I remounted on toward Oroville.

Give Up the Goat

Warmed by a vivid sunrise over my shoulder, I crushed under the wind of the valley. I'd make it to Maxwell around noon. The restaurant was closed, being Sunday, so it was more gas station meals (Fritos Bean Dip forever) then off again toward the towering climb of Goat Mountain. But even before the start of Goat Mountain Road was a windy assault through the last stretches of the valley and then a straight up wall of road riding before the dam. It was the hottest part of the day and I could feel the sun hitting me hard. I crested the road ride, only to start into the long grueling dirt climb up Goat Mountain. It would start easy, a fairly gentle grade, but as the elevation count went up so did the gradient. Nearing the top my road rings couldn't handle it and I was forced to walk. The sun was gone and I was walking a lot of the final 2,000 ft. I was so sore and beat that by the time I hit the summit I packed it in for 2 hours.

Waking up I once again felt only slightly better. It wasn't all that late, there was a lot of darkness before another sunrise. I began going down trying to keep my heavy eyes on the road and avoid the bumps and divets of the fire roads down the backside of the mountain. The climb was smooth and went pretty much straight up; the backside would not be so friendly. My arms and back cramped as I squeezed the brakes of my drop bar, being extra careful. My anxiousness to get off the mountain couldn't supersede my desire to stay upright. The road rolled up and down on unrideable gradients, I began to feel the darkness again. I would get on and ride what I could, walk what I couldn't, and take five to ten minute naps in between. Water would be scarce and motivation even scarcer, but what could I do but just make it? That was my motivation, that there were no options. I was moving slowly, but I was moving. The sun would peak up over the trees as I neared the final descents. With the morning rays my spirit and my speed lifted. I dropped into Potter Valley for more gas station resupply and onward to Lake Mendocino.

The Path of Most Resistance

Lake Mendocino was hot hot hot. I savored any shade there was and tried conserving water (I didn't bring much since it was only 30 miles from Potter Valley to Ukiah). The GPX was a little tricky to follow, so I followed the best track I could, some of it being some real flowy full single track. Onward to Ukiah where a sandwich shop offered real food. Only 70 miles left from Ukiah, I decided to check the Track Leaders, one thing I wanted to not do on this race (I was trying to imagine that the person in front of me was around every corner and the person behind me just around every bend behind me; which was actually a great motivator), checking I saw that the jig was up, Alice was ahead of me and Sam would roll into town any second.

I tried recovering on Low Gap Road, but I was hurting. My gearing made the ascent slow and my bars made the descent slow too. I focused on staying on the bike while the sun was out to help with the fast fire road descents which I thankfully did before hitting the last stretch of pavement into Comptche. The sun went down for what was the final night. I'd been to Comptche before and I knew how close Mendocino was from where I was standing, but our tracks would not take the path of least resistance, it was probably the path of most resistance. A steep climb up into a preserve full of overgrown fire roads that descended into the Mendocino Woodlands. After 350 miles, this was a real asskicker of technical single track and steep climbs. I wanted to finish before sunrise, but the constant struggle of staying on trail slowed me down. The sun peaked it's red rays through the top of the redwoods as I walked up the long steep climb around Manly Gulch, the last long uphill. At the top I remounted and started downward.

Once again the downs would be just as daunting as the ups. Technical windy singletrack kept me on my toes. Points were so steep I was walking downhill. I squeezed my brakes, hoping not to overheat my rims, I worried about slipping my rear wheel on the leaves. I tried to make sure I was on the pink line on my Garmin Etrex screen, so I didn't have to waste energy routing the wrong way. Towards the very end of the trail, right before Mendocino Headlands State Park, I was going down a steep bend, squeezing my brakes and my narrow rim/wide tire setup gave way, my tubeless tire burped and I lost all traction and hit the ground hard. I had less than 15 miles to go, this fall hurt mostly my spirit. I walked the last bit of descending single track. Crossed a final road, touched the Big River and realized; this is it. There was a section of flat single track that would lead to the final road.

I hit the road running. I was pressing on my pedals as hard as I could. I could feel it coming. I hit the beach and organizer Doug and third place finisher Sam were there waiting. 3 days 3 hours 46 minutes; 4th place. I held it together to finish and that's what matters. What a trip.

Final Thoughts

This was the first time that this race was run. I had no idea what to expect. I brought a cross bike expecting more fire roads and gravel roads; I was wrong. The rumored but not confirmed total singletrack count is 50 miles over 400, that's 1/8 of the course and I am sure that the road sections are about 1/8 and the uphill is probably at least a quarter of the course on top of that. It was extremely fun though, albeit extremely challenging on a cross bike. I would most definitely do this course again for all that sweet single track only on a better prepared bike. On top of that, so many of the views were so stunning I'd love to even tour this route with a camera and a few buds, especially since the end of the first section would lead to a nice long rest at Burgee Dave's where they serve gallon sized Bloody Mary's, how badly I wanted one then. Can't really thank Doug and Dan enough for putting this together.

Life Just Keeps Fucking Up

So here I was ready to be all coy about my next race and just make hints about what it was going to be and then just throw up a whole bunch of pictures. So I throw in my second memory card with all the pictures from the Powderhorn 24, Glacier National Park, and Seattle, ready to relive the moments by going through the photos, then the folder doesn't load. No pictures. Empty. I throw it back in the camera, the camera agrees, fuck you, you didn't take any pictures.

Well, what dumb fucking luck. This was also a day I blew three flats. This is on top of a broken smartphone and broken laptop. Does everyone's shit break as much as mine does?

Besides that minor tragedy, the good news is that come October 11th I will be participating in the first Trans Northern California from the Reno area to the Mendocino Coast. 400 miles, 40,000 ft, lots of dirt. Hoping to build an actual mountain bike for this shindig, but if that doesn't fall together in time, monster crossing it is.

Not an Instagram Filter: The Adirondacks, NY

After I returned to Long Island, my brother, who had returned from Europe  a few months before told me he still had to update his blog. I was polite and didn't say "What's the point if the time is so far gone?" Now here I am being back in Oakland for nearly a month and I've only updated once. Oh well, this isn't a full time job, so I gotta squeeze it in between working 60 hour weeks and moving across town.

Besides the now, here's what happened all those months ago. After visiting friends in Boston, Hartford, and Glens Falls, NY I stepped into the Adirondacks of NY. A place I've been very few times in my life but have always dreamed about. It's the little bit of West that NY has clung on to. It isn't as wild, or sparsely populated, but I still happened to find some pockets that were completely to myself.

This was like a portal into the hills. After crossing this bridge I entered the mountains and got out of the Hudson Valley.

Backwoods camp in the Moose River Wilderness.

This road is part of the Black Fly Challenge. It was extremely sandy.

Riding along these bumpy dirt roads didn't fair well for my camera. After it died I bought a disposable, so no, these are not some fancy filter, just shots with a disposable camera.

Whiteface Mountain

Loose Gravel, my favorite sign.

Whiteface from afar.

My final campsite was right along this idyllic lake.

I hopped off the bike and hiked up Mt. St. Regis. On top was this fire tower and quite the view.

I think I have more photos hiding on my broken phone (hopefully I can get them). Maybe I'll dump those when I'm all done with the rest of the updates.

East Coast Image Dump

Finally, a real update. Unfortunately, the organization is still a little bit lacking on my part (someone who is organized wouldn't have done the enormously stupid things I did at the end of this trip, but that's for later). For now, here is some image dumps from before I hit the Adirondacks. Covering from Long Island to Boston then out to the Hudson Valley before hitting Lake George where I'll pick up once my photos are developed.

For a while now I've been wanting to camp out on Orient Point and see the sun come up. Unfortunately, I was met with these clouds, so I grabbed the ferry and pushed north.

Usually I try to brave any storm, but when my mom called and told me about gale force winds and viscous lightning, even a tornado touching down, I opted for a room for the night. I grabbed this shot, but the rain never came. Oh well.

It would then continue to dump rain on me all the next day. At least a wet lens gave this eery effect on this ancient cemetery. 

Sunset over Quincy Bay.

Quincy Quarries.

Boston Skyline

Bog in the Quincy Quarries.

Fenway Park.

Putnam, CT

Fantastic coffee nestled in Putnam, Ct.

Covered Bridge, Berkshires, NY.