If you've ever participated in this rowdy New Year’s Day ride, you know that
the event follows the law of natural selection. Stay in touch with the group or
die. Not comfortable blowing through stoplights in Metro Richmond? Then fall
off the back and hope you can catch up. Get a flat somewhere in the first 50
miles of mountain bike, and you are likely to pick up the pieces yourself. Oh,
and the pace at the start, it’s pretty damn fast.
Once you’ve got the initial 50 miles out of the way on your
fat tire sled, it's time for the 50 road miles. Better hope you can trade paint
pulling the train, find a wheel and slum it out in the back, or get left
somewhere in your spandex clown suit begging for a sip of malt liquor from a
wino’s 40, because you've long since blown through all your food and you have
no clue where you are. That’s about how civil the other three 50/50 rides I’ve
completed have been. How else can you whittle down the 50 or so eager beavers that
gather at 7:00am into the handful of whooping sticks worthy of the metal?
This year there was a noticeably lean start group, several of the usual
suspects and surly instigators were not present. Steve Justice and JMAC were nowhere
to be seen. For 2015, we had a change of venue from the traditional concrete
and JRPS trail jungle of RVA to the much milder and easy going trails of Pocahontas
State park. Maybe a change of heart was in the air as well. The mornings MTB
session was… well… civil. I called it the Brady Bunch 50/50 because it seemed
so wholesome. No one got left behind, and the pace was reasonable. It was very
cold. Stopping was not the most enjoyable option, so I routinely busted out pushups
to stay warm. Yeah, a kinder and gentler 50/50 start. It was also incredibly
slow going, with a comedy of flats, crashes, and other snafu's. The pace was
turning the 50/50 into what I'll dub a Metric/Standard. We barely got 50k
dispatched on the MTBs but that gave me time to enjoy a can of suds.
I snacked on PBJ refills in my car as I tried to warm up and get motivated for
the 50 miles of road. Our crew was a little lighter, with some folks plain MIA (odd
for such a tame 50/50), and some folks throwing in the towel, typical 50/50 behavior.
Once you get on that road bike and head off with the motley crew, you’re in for
a long haul, better hope no one is feeling squirrely on the road! I put on
extra leg warmers, stashed lots of food, and a beer in my pocket, and got rolling
on my skinny tires.
We had a solid group rolling out the road 50 on a route penned by the ride
organizer, Foghorn Leghorn. The inaugural Chesterfield route started with a
tour through several busy suburban roads ripe with hung over suburbanites, who
were comfortably getting irritated in their warm cars. We missed a turn and
tacked on an extra three miles as the ride ventured further into wilds of the
county. Plenty of hunting trucks buzzed us and the cheerful sounds of gunfire
lined the road. Blaze orange and tap out stickers, like carrots and peas. We
rambled through a very high end neighborhood none of us could afford to live
in. Oddly, the whole big and excessive housing/castle development had almost no
signs of life. We stopped at the main entrance to re-fuel and reload for the
final miles back to the cars, and victory.
Our Metric/Standard had a pleasant surprise at the end when we missed a turn
and cut out some miles, thus balancing the extra we had gained from our earlier
missed turn.
The after party was hosted by another local legend. Hanging
out with the men who ruled the day at Church Hill’s Brown residence was a
proper way to wind down the first big ride of 2015.
It wasn’t the toughest 50/50 I’ve done, but the
Metric/Standard was great fun, even if it was a little wholesome.
The pounding my body was taking was starting to piss me off.
Frustration was the dominant emotion flowing out of my core as I fought my way
through each rock strewn switch back nearing the big rock garden on the Pilot
Mountain descent. I took a wide line on one of the last switch backs and a
menacing Rhododendron grabbed hold of my left hand and I flopped hard to the
ground. I cursed… a lot… remounted, and hurtled myself towards the rock garden.
Scene from Blue Ridge Adventure's awesome event videos
I sped by film maker Eric Crews who was shooting video of a
chunky section and wondered if he heard my tirade from just up the hill. No
matter, the rock garden was at hand and oddly enough seemed to be the easiest
part of Pilot for me this day. I was actually looking forward to the few miles
of gravel grind that would lead me to the finish.
I’ll bet no one totally bombs and shreds Pilot. I’ve raced
it several times, some much better than this day. Each time it’s a duality of
attack and survival. It’s like a boxing match where you cannot KO your
opponent, but you have no choice to be fully in the fight..
Scene from Blue Ridge Adventure's awesome event videos
I know of at least one racer’s bike that blew out a rear
shock on the Pilot descent.
My heal was throbbing, and I knew I had earned a fresh trail
tattoo on my right shoulder that would come into its own a few days later. I
felt a bit defeated as I rolled through the timing gate at the end of the
Enduro segment. You gotta respect the mountain.
Stage 4 of the 2014 Pisgah Stage Race was nearing the end
for me and through the fog racing a I
smiled while gasping for air as my thoughts drifted back to earlier parts of
the stage. It had been an awesome stage race so far and I tucked in tight and
pedaled for all I was worth. I craned my neck looking back at each major
straight to see how hard I would have to fight to keep my 4th place
position, a theme I had gotten used to this week with my inauguration to the
stiff competition in the 40+ masters category.
We had started from the Cradle of Forestry earlier in the
morning. I’m not sure how many racers knew, but there is a tree on this site
that was grown from a seed that has visited the moon on an Apollo mission with
an astronaut.
Scene from Blue Ridge Adventure's awesome event videos
B Rad pushed out hard from the start and was chasing the
pace Subaru. The race pack turned left in chase onto the gravel and soon were throwing
ourselves into the climb up Club Gap. Black Mountain’s steep and rocky side was
tough because the trail is pretty ‘dirty’. When I finally got on top and
started rolling the trail towards Buckhorn, my front end took a vacation in a
turn that was traction challenged. Somehow I saved it, yelled out with a big
hoot, and got right back on the gas, braaap.
I came across Evan Plews, who was hobbling along with his
bike. Lacerated knee… that sucks. Then I got ready for the steep ‘stair’
section that ended this portion of Black. I slowed a bit and plopped down it
much easier than I had thought I would. Dropper post rock!
Soon I was rolling down Buckhorn in my biggest gear and
caught up with Aaron Albright and then we caught Garth. I took the lead and we
sped down the rest of Buckhorn and South Mills River towards the slipperiest
suspension bridge I’ve nancied across all year.
My front derailleur refused to budge as we started up Squirrel
Gap and I had to kick it…to drop into my little chain ring. I was relieved to
have the smaller gear on the 1st steep and relentless section of Squirrel.
During Stage 1 I had felt great and really attacked Squirrel
gap well coming from the opposite direction. This day the trail was much wetter
and there was 3 days of racing in my legs. I rode well and finally caught Garth
near the end of Squirrel, just after Jon Stang had passed me. Jon was riding
very well this day, just like he had been all week. I managed to keep him in my
sights as we zoomed down Laurel and Bradley creek trails.
As I closed in on the top of the climb on FS 5015, I thought
it odd that Garth had not passed me yet. When he did, I asked if he had gotten
a flat. I think he thought it was giving him shit, but I was serious. He rode
off into the distance and flashed me the bird. If only I could have mustered
more strength to pester him on the techy bits of Laurel Mountain.
Climbing Laurel was fairly enjoyable, very nice temps and
some cool foggy mountain scenery. That pleasantness disappeared during the hike
a bike. Just when you think the hiking’s over….well that’s just when it really
begins. Finally I arrived at the Enduro section start, but was bummed that it
began with a fair bit of climbing made harder by my thoroughly spent legs.
At last! The descent started and I discovered my dropper was
stuck in the fully extended position. I fiddled with it while ripping down the
top section. Not an advisable thing to do there because it’s hard just to hold
onto the bike through that speedy chunk on top. At last, the post ceased to be disobedient
and I entered the ring with the Pilot Mountain descent… and so it went.
The gravel seemed to just keep going. Surely this was the
slight rise followed by the right hand turn that would lead to the pavement…I
had stopped checking behind me a few turns ago. My legs were giving all they
would. I don’t know if I could have pushed harder, even if a coked up black
bear had been in pursuit. It had been a tough day, but overall my race had gone
pretty well. Sure, I went a few rounds on Pilot, but some days you take a punch
or two.
My race house mates and I stopped by the Barbecue joint
where our Australian import ignored Carolina BBQ tradition and ordered a
hamburger and fried pickles. Cheesus and I dispatched some Barbecue platters while
B Rad did the same while also taking fire from a couple of Torpedoes from the
Sierras. We noticed an odd juxtaposition provided by the cute stuffed pigs and
cartoon drawings colored in by artistic little carnivores. It would be like
Chick Fil A replacing the Cow campaign with Chickens saying… eat more chicken.
I guess you’re the butcher or you’re the pig. The barbecue was delicious, and
of course there were a few obligatory Pulp Fiction quotes.
Next up was a stop at the Oscar Blues brewery where we
grabbed a couple of pitchers and sat our tired buts down for a few pints. It
didn’t take long, but soon our table was flanked by other groups. Packs of Bro’s
stoked about their rides, EPIC trails, and no doubt some Sick Edits, Brah!...
Fist bumps abounded.
The Dale’s Pale Ale was great, but the day was quickly
departing and I had a bike to clean, maintenance tasks, clothes to wash, wounds
to lick, and beer at the house... all Bro free. Cheesus and I stopped at the Ingles
market and picked up some much needed re-supply.
We returned to the house we were renting, greeted by the eclectic
décor that B Rad described as “leaving no culture unmolested”. Claire thought she
saw a weird bust of Jesus popping out of the wall, but realized it was the face
of a creepy polar native seemingly birthed through a strange furry apparatus.
In her room there was a wall hanging with a figure… whose eyes seemed to follow
you around the room. I have no idea how she slept in there!
Somehow we seemed destined to run into Brevard’s finest. A
day or two before while we were eating a late lunch, some odd young ladies
pestered us trying to sell cleaning products door to door. An hour or so later,
the cops showed up and were escorting them out of the neighborhood.
Garchiapet’s wacky GPS phone had gone missing and she was
convinced someone had stolen it from her car parked in front of the house. So…
she called the police after the insurance company told here a police report was
needed to cover the phone with insurance. In a Flight of the Concords style of
dialog, she told the police she wanted to ‘get a report’ and they asked her
when she had filed one… “ No, I need to Get a report because someone stole my
phone” …classic. Later the phone’s mysterious disappearance was solved, fortunately
before the local constabulary had dispatched to our temporary residence to get
a report.
Mayor McCheese and I had also taken in some local flair at
the aptly named Food Matters Market. The sandwich lady running the take out
operation was keenly efficient and to the point. Like a carving knife… she was all
business. I made sure to know my bread and cheese selections after witnessing
Cheesus’s interactions with the curt maiden of cold cuts and Panini. Next, a
completely different interaction graced me in the checkout line. I proudly waited
to buy a six pack of Green Man IPA. The fella in front of me said I should go
ahead of him because I was young and had things to do. He then explained that
he had been speculating about how many times his heart had beat over the last
92 years. I was grateful for his kindness and patience… and he let his big
heart beat a little bit extra so I would not have to wait… while “lightning”, the
gabby checkout clerk, queried him on all his purchase selections.
There were a number of Bee incidents for racers during the
week. Fortunately I escaped without a single sting. I had my EpiPens with me
the whole time, but I’d much rather leave them in my jersey pocket, and not test
the effectiveness of my venom therapy... at least not during the stage race.
Saturday morning arrived all too soon and we headed over to
the Brevard Music Center for the last stage. Farlow Gap was beckoning and I
recalled the long bumpy ride in a Cheese Wagon from last year. I took care not
to drink too much water before getting on the bus. It’s funny how just riding
in a school bus can make you feel like a kid again.
Hitting the climb up to Farlow really smacks you in the face
on day 5. It’s long and fairly boring, but there are some nice views if you can
pull your head up from the rigors of climbing. I charged near the top even
though my legs were not in agreement. Nabbing a few positions afforded me a
nice clear entrance rolling into Farlow. I was able to ride more than I have
before, but got unclipped and discombobulated about ¾ of the way down the main
rocky trail steep, where it seemed the mountain itself had vomited.
Then Farlow opens up a bit with some fast, steep, and
challenging trail that reminds me of riding in Squamish BC. It is ride able,
but you need to commit.
The majority of hike a bike sections were over and lower
Farlow’s fast, technical, and surprisingly pedaly single track, takes you to
the steep stairs, switchbacks, drops, and rocky trail that ultimately crosses
on the top of a waterfall. I walked the waterfall. Anyone ride it?
Daniel Ridge was up next and I was a bit distracted by
camera flashes while trying to float over a bunch of rocks and roots at speed.
However, the photos posted by Icon Media Asheville were well worth it! Near the
end of Daniel Ridge, I hesitated and walked a silly steep little hump and blown
out whoop dip. I got heckled by a spectator, but like Kenny says…“You got to
know when to hold em, know when to fold em”.
Passing by the Aid station I felt a little guilty as I
dropped my water bottle like a torpedo from a dive bomber, hollering about which
bag to please put it in. Sorry fellas, race brain was not thinking to clear.
Upon turning right into the Fish Hatchery, I took care
speeding towards the next double track climb. There were a lot of moving cars, people,
and non-race signage everywhere, all in a whirl of activity.
The double track climb up to Bracken Mountain just never
seemed to end. I pushed a solid pace but was saving some braaap for the Enduro
segment at the end. But Rick Hatfield from Michigan had other ideas… and soon I
was battling with him over 4th place. It was tough, but the battle
certainly made the last couple of miles of
double track go by faster! Some chain woes stuck his bike, and I punched it
towards the final descent down Bracken Mountain.
I declined the whiskey hand up as I rolled through the
Enduro start. I was going to need all my focus to try and win this Enduro
segment! My ride down Bracken went well and I rallied through much of the
trail. In the middle of the segment there was a moderate, but unwelcome climb.
I gasped for air, looking a fool, as I
passed by a course marshal. Soon enough, I was heading back down and into the pedaly
blaze red section of Bracken. I left my dropper post up because I wanted to maximize
my pedaling power and still stay efficient. I dropped it back down for the
final blue blazed decent and put on full steam, balls out, till I reached the
finish.
Later at the awards dinner, I had reviewed the results and
was bummed that to not have gotten a podium spot… Then later, I heard someone announcing,
“… from Richmond, Virginia… racing for Design Physics…”Hey, what the?“...Jeff Plassman” I was sort of dumfounded.
I walked up to the podium and asked Heather if I was supposed to get on the top
step?… I was! Finally! I got on the Podium at the Pisgah Stage Race for the 40+
Enduro Win for the Stage, and it sure felt great after 5 days of hard charging.
After a great dinner, awesome awards ceremony, and plenty of
good libations, the pie eating contest got under way… The skinniest volunteer up
there decided to take off his shirt in an odd display. So… one by one all the racers
who were volunteered by the MC Tyler Crotts, came to the pie table… through
peer pressure, or some odd ritual energy that had entered the room … all went
bare chested and commenced pie eating… on one side of the table kids eating
pies, and on the other side… beefcake! It was like a train wreck, you just had
to watch as it unfolded, no matter the cost to your psyche. Some things can
never be unseen.
Popeye joined us for the festivities as well. He was just
one of the many awesome folks guiding us through the stages and just plain
taking care of business. One of my favorite things about Popeye was that he never
seemed to break character, no matter what the situation was.
I graduated to the 40+ masters racing category this year. There
was a lot of heat in our category. I traded paint with Garth Prosser, Bruce
Myer, and Jon Stang all week. These guys are all class acts and super-fast to
boot. Some days I could get my wheels out in front for a while, but they always
reeled me in. The three of them had a battle royal going all week, often
finishing within a minute or so of each other. Other 40+ stand outs that kept
me honest were John Kuhn and Rick Hatfield.
Blue Ridge Adventures really knows how to put on a stage
race. The routes are planned very well, marked clearly, and staffed by a great
crew. Not to mention the pre-stage dinners and happy hours where Todd guides
you through the upcoming stages and lends valuable knowledge and advice. There’s
an awesome printed race guide for each stage, top tube/handle bar elevation
profiles, stocked aid stations, friendly volunteers, and incredible race videos.
All of these made for a cycling adventure in Pisgah that should be on everyone’s
bucket list! The Pisgah Stage Race is one of the best ways you can do it. Put
it on your list, and I guarantee you be glad you did!
Man there is a lot of heat in the 40+ category this year!
Garth, Wes, John, Bruce...all super fast!
I'm hoping I've got a chance to touch the wood
today...that's stand on the podium in common parlance. It's gonna be tough with
all these fast guys though.
Here is a video recap:
This morning at 9:00am we kicked off the 1st stage of this
years Pisgah Stage Race. Thankfully a certain Toronto team was not here to
force a sprint on the road
prologue. A nice civilized warm up on the highway to Turkey
Pen Road.
Turkey Pen came soon enough and that's when things get real.
We charged the gravel towards the 1st descent. The 1st descent is no joke with
water bars, some small
drops, and classic Pisgah character. I bombed down it and
gained positions I had lost on the gravel. Soon we crossed a suspension bridge
and started up Mullinax which led to a lengthy and technical ride on one of the
tightest trails in Pisgah. I really like riding Squirrel Gap in this direction.
I gained a few spots on the last 3rd of Squirrel chasing
down Bruce. At the turn for the climb up Horse Cove, Popeye gave directions...
and I ascended.
Garth Passed me back on Funnel top and I would not see him
again till I finished.
A quick stop at the aid station and I hammered some water on
the way to the climb up Buckhorn. I knew I needed extra hydration to avoid the
cramps on the hike a bike
up Black Mountain. Buckhorn was long and mild as far as climbs
go, but the real punishment awaited on Black. I sure which I could hike
faster...
Finally, after what seemed like an endless series of hike a
bike sections, the real challenge began. The descent on upper black is totally
blown out. There is a 3 foot ravine with "holes within holes" (Brad
quote) and I wiggled down as much as I bombed. I smacked my wide bars and
almost bought the farm but managed to save it. This is one descent that I think
everyone is gad when it's finished.
Now the last section of the Stage! Up and over lower Black
Mountain, and it's a timed enduro section. The short but steep climbing section
is killing me because I know I'm losing a lot of time here. I'm just trying to
keep my legs from cramping.
Finally, the big descent down Lower Black and home to the
finish. What a fun day of riding.
There is always something appealing to me about a road trip.
I think a lot of people also share in the same need for setting out on some
type of adventure.So it begins as my latest adventure unfolds with the start
of my 4th Pisgah Stage Race.
I've been completely consumed (obsessed even) with getting
my gear and bikes ready for this event. Some of the tasks are routine maintenance
that I've put off too long, and others are just part of prepping for a race. Re-tensioning
wheels, truing rims, fixing those nagging cable problems, replacing wheels
bearings I found were bad, and … well the list goes on.
There are also some nonstandard items such as testing and
setting up one of my race bikes as a Franken bike. 650b in the rear, and I grafted
a 29er front end on for Pisgah. It actually works pretty darn well, much better
than the whole 26er with a 650b front wheel escapade I tried for a couple of
years. Oh yeah, that's 27.5 in street terms...God bless Pacenti!
There were other experiments as well, such as inverting my
front shifter to the right side so I can have my precious dropper post switch on
the left. Other things were ghetto rigged as well. No integrated down tube
protector on my Turner... Pisgah's got some big ass loose rocks, and I felt it
would be pure neglect if I did not develop some solution. I fabricated one out
of some vinyl floor baseboard material using a cardboard pattern of the down-tube
shape I prototyped.
I spent some hours organizing my ramshackle assortment of
bike tools into a respectable mechanics kit and also organized the cleaning tub
and spare parts bin for two bikes and five days of stage acing. Like most bike
racers, I'm my own mechanic, medic, and coach.
What about 5 days of race kit, spare shoes, spare gloves,
did I pack those extra cleats? What about spare tires, do I have enough tubes,
was my saddle this high last race? Crap that cable is frayed… oh these pedals
need grease… now I’m trimming the steer tube that I’ve been putting off… Uh oh,
that rear tires got a sketchy looking sidewall scuff…does that brake need
bleeding, Arrggggghhhhh!!!!!!!!
Countless hour prepping and stressing so I can get it to all
go smoothly, at least that's the plan. We'll see.
So finally, Fri night before I leave, the car is all packed,
and I'm finally ready! I'm so relieved to have the last week and a half of
prepping done.
I watch Ace Ventura Pet Detective, drink beer, laugh my ass
off, and sleep soundly knowing the adventure starts in 6 hours...
Ramble On
5:00 am and it's time to get up, eat breakfast, feed the
bottomless beasts I call cats, and bug out! The light from the sunrise bathes
Richmond and I watch the skyline of my hometown fade in the rear view mirror.
The road trip is special because it's a transition to the
non-normal, the new and uncertain adventure. Even though events are well planned,
you never know what will happen. It’s different every time, both in the good
and the not so awesome. World class stage racing like the PMBSR is cool
because, you will make new friends, from all over the USA and the World. You
will also find unexpected challenges and often transcendence.
Early into the drive, the old playlist I dug up has me going
sentimental. I burned this one in 2011 when I was travelling back and forth to
Huntington WV while my wife was teaching at Marshall University.
I learned that year of travelling 6 hours one way, back and
forth from Richmond to Huntington every other weekend, what this saying really
means: "You don't really know where you’re from, till you leave it all
behind." You see, there was a very real possibility I would have been
moving there and leaving RVA and everything I know behind. Those long drives in
the middle of the night made me realize how much I love my home town, how much
I love my wife, how much the everyday means... and how easy it is to get bogged
down in the familiar grind we all get accustomed too and forget how good we
have it.
I seek adventure to escape the mundane and be in transition.
Transition creates an instability that's exciting, dangerous, and a valuable
counterpoint. Transition helps highlight the good in the cyclical every day and
provides an opportunity we all have to transition and explore our world.
Mo Bikes, Mo Problems
After arriving in Brevard and getting my campsite
established, I head over to Dupont to spin the legs out and identify any bike
set up issues. The 1st loop I make of burnt mountain left me feeling
a little insecure of my set up. I try different settings, realize it's probably
me to some extent, try both of my bike out, and ultimately discover my head game
was a big part of it.
Having two different bikes to ride can be very handy, but it
can also mess with you if they are not identical. Riding downhill fast in
Pisgah will often have you riding close to the intersection of control and not
control. That’s when subtle differences in how different bikes handle really
become noticeable.
It’s the People you
meet on the Way
While getting my whips dialed at Dupont, I passed a group of
guys a few times on the climbs and the descents. We traded places, and I zoomed
by a couple of guys as they let me by or were waiting for one of their riding buddies
to catch up. I was focused on how my bike was riding and did slow down to chat.
Sorry guys, I was on my own little mission.
As I cleaned up at the car, the three riders rolled up and
were parked right next to me. We said hi to each other, and then chatted a bit
about the ride. They were a cool bunch of guys from Grenville SC. They offered
me a beer and we exchanged bike stories and descriptions of riding in our home
towns.
I was really glad to have stopped focusing so much on my own
ride and have the chance to relax. That’s the thing about riding mountains
bikes. You are almost always guaranteed to meet some really cool and friendly people
in just about any corner of the world where there is mountain biking.
Local Flavor
The next day I spent some time pre-riding / hiking a trail
that turns into a huge ravine. I figured out a line for the last 1/3 or the
section, but determined first 2/3 are basically not to be ridden, at least not
by me. Later I found out this part of the course had been changed and would not
be included. Oh well, I was satisfied that I figured out the line I did anyway.
Afterwards I traveled over to Asheville for the best Shrimp
and Grits to be had in the south at Sunny Point Café. Mmmmmm….so good.
Next up was a stop at the local bike shops. Sycamore Cycles
always has the gear I need. Then I went over to The Hub and caught up with some
folks I’ve met before down here over a nice cold beer.
Home away from Home
I checked into the house we have rented out for the week and
got settled in. The décor is an "eclectic mix… leaving no culture unmolested" (thanks for the awesome quote Brad!).
It’s also a great place to stage from for the race.
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