it was a good feeling to get back into mountain bike racing after a 3 year hiatus — the taste of mud, the high-speed dodging of trees, the sting of prickly brush scraping my lower legs, the agony of defeat (remember ABC’s wide world of sports???… the ski jumper falling off the end of the ski jump in the opening credits?).
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saturday i drove down to the capitol state forest south of olympia for my first race of the season — the “peak to creek #1”. this point-to-point race was billed as a “gravity-assisted cross country race”, as it started with a bus ride to the summit of capitol peak (elev. 2658’), and ended 14 miles later at the middle waddell creek parking lot (elev. 250’). the course was fairly technical singletrack with not much chance for passing, so riders were started at 30 second intervals to spread everyone out.
i was about the 20th rider to start out of about 80 riders. as i hit the trail, i tried to remember when was the last time i had done any serious mountain biking… maybe 2 years ago?! but just like riding a bike, one never forgets… and what luck… i was on a bike! the first couple miles ran through dense forest and consisted of long zig-zaggy and very fast downhill sections, punctuated with 180-degree switchbacks. after about 15 minutes, my forearms were throbbing from squeezing the brakes hard every 2 minutes to maneuver the switchbacks.
twenty minutes into the ride i was feeling good, if somewhat cocky – which cost me dearly. i went into a right-hand turn way too fast, causing me to swing wide and run up against the side of the rutted trail. my front tire dug into the side of the rut, blowing the tire. consequently, with no control over my direction now, i was bucked off my bike and suddenly introduced to a lovely pine tree which helped arrest my forward bike-less motion.
i picked myself up, checked for bleeding, and came to the realization that i had neglected to pack a pump or patch kit. sooooo…. i shrugged my shoulders and began the long walk down the mountain. about every 30 seconds, i’d hear “TRAIL!” or “COMIN’ THROUGH!” yelled to me as i scrambled to pull my bike off the trail to let others pass. this was, after all, a race, so i didn’t want to eat up another rider’s valuable time asking them for assistance to make up for my poor planning.
after walking for about 30 minutes, a kindly samaritan stopped to see if he couldn’t lend a hand. he rooted around in his small backpack for his pump and tire patches but, like me, he was equally unprepared for such a simple repair (unlike me, he had two operable wheels).
before he rode away he offered a suggestion: “try stuffing some shit in it.” i thought briefly about finding a private spot in the forest and dropping trou’, but then i vaguely remembered reading something in a mountain bike magazine long ago. in desperate situations, one could fill one’s tires with leaves and get just enough buoyancy to limp back to civilization. ‘tis worth a try…
i looked around the forest floor and decided ferns were the ticket. the long leafy stalks of two full-grown sword ferns packed nicely into the tire. so much for “leave no trace”. i fastened the wheel back onto the front fork and away i went… for about 10 feet. “i’m going to need a lot more ferns.”
i scrapped that plan and took to hoofing it down the trail again, when another rider stopped. “i’ve tried that before with similar results” he said. he generously loaned me a new tube and his pump on the condition that i find him in the parking lot to return his gear after the race. sounds good to me. as i pulled the useless ferns out of the tire, he sped away trying to make up for the couple minutes he lost helping me.
in a jiffy, i was back on the trail trying to make up for the 45 minutes i had lost. the trail opened up into a clearcut, with smooth, dry and relatively straight hardpack. this lasted about 10 minutes before it dove into the trees and turned muddy and technical again. two or three tight turns later, i found myself ejected from my bike again as my front tire folded out off of the rim, leaving the inner tube fully inflated but now bulging out from underneath the tire. in a flash, i deflated the tube, wrestled the tire back onto the rim, pumped it up again, and pedaled away once more… only to have it do the same thing about 100’ feet later.
upon closer inspection, i found that the wire bead on the tire had been destroyed (probably on crash #2), making it impossible for the tire to stay on the rim, even on a smoothly paved road. i’m fucked.
riders kept passing me in roughly the 30 second start intervals, every now and then asking if i needed assistance. “no, i’m ok” i’d say, waving them on… “not unless you’ve got a spare freakin’ tire on ya” i’d mutter as they disappeared around the bend. after a while it became painfully obvious that i was not being passed anymore.
with about 30 minutes of actual riding, i figure i had enjoyed two-wheeled transportation for about 6 miles… leaving a hefty 8 miles of slippery, muddy and sometimes boggy trail, wheeling my bike by it’s rear tire.
three hours and 41 minutes after i had started the race, i crossed the finish line. eric, the race organizer, was there to hit the stopwatch and write down my time. dead fucking last. luckily he knew the guy that had loaned me the pump and tube
next saturday is a race in beautiful seatac, just south of the airport. i figure it couldn’t be much worse than this one. plus, the course is a 5 mile loop, so worst case scenario i’d have to walk about 2 1/2 miles.
Posted by jason at March 31, 2003 12:12 PM