Pisgah Stage Race: The Transylvania Loop (Day 4)

The fourth and final day of the Pisgah Stage Race came early as we shuffled out of our tents to find freezing temperatures in the 30s (record lows again).  We got through breakfast and rode to the start line, rest stop bags in tow.

Once we lined up, the race organizer, Todd, started the morning announcements.  He said that even though many of us would be disappointed, they would be removing the Farlow Gap loop from the ride today.  He was apparently out there at 2 AM that morning (we’re not sure when he actually slept during the weekend) and said it was completely frozen over with snow on the ground (and mind you that this was apparently the gnarliest and toughest trail out there even in the best conditions).  Applause broke out in the waiting riders and someone behind me shouted, “Look at all these disappointed riders!”  Yeah, we had been through the ringer already and finding out that the final stage would be “only” 40 miles and 9000 feet of climbing was a bit of a relief.  Here’s the map and elevation of the stage:

But as soon as we started the first gravel road climb of the day, I knew that today would be a struggle as my ankle was killing me.  I don’t remember injuring it on any of my myriad tumbles during the earlier stages, but basically my left achilles was just aching the entire day.  So our last day definitely turned into a test of survival, as David and I just rode along together at a steady pace (while I grabbed some Advil at every rest stop).

Since the organizers had removed Farlow Gap, this last stage was really a series of long fire road sections (both climbing and descending) interspersed with some great flowy singletrack.  After a 6 mile fire road climb, we  descended back down to a paved section of highway and then dove back into the woods to hit the Cove Creek and Daniel Ridge Trails.  More gravel road riding dropped us down to the Davidson River Trail, which was a beautiful stretch of fast singletrack by the river; we even stopped riding for a minute just to take in an awesome view of a huge waterfall cascading down the hillside next to the trail (we figured that we might as well enjoy the day).  But then it was back to more fire road; in fact, it turned out that the way back to the finish involved riding almost all of the fire road we had ridden that day, except in the opposite direction.  Great, just what my ankle needed.

So back we rode, spinning along and churning up the miles.  We had one last blast of classic “It’s like… Pisgah” action when we tackled the Bennett Gap Trail.  It was rocky & rooty fun along a ridgeline, and then (of course) you hit death-defying rock ledge dropoffs at the end.  We’ll have to go back and try this trail again (maybe with my GT Force Carbon next time) but on this day we just wanted to make it back in one piece.  That left us with one last (and really long) fire road climb up to the top of Black Mountain, but then it was all downhill (well, except for that last hike-a-bike section) to the finish.

David and I crossed the finish line together with a time just over 5 hours, exhausted but proud of hanging in there to complete all the stages.  And the best part about finishing when we did was that they already had the grills all fired up and the beer nice and cold.  Here I am getting ready for my burger and hanging out with Harlan Price, a super-fast (he was sixth place overall, but he was also blogging and documenting the race for Mountain Bike) and super-cool pro rider:

After getting cleaned up a bit, we headed back over for the awards ceremony.  On our way over we ran into fellow racer Denise, who, in addition to sporting a sweet Pisgah jersey, we saw a lot of during the race as she finished in about the same time as us most days (although she was second in her category, while we finished fifth in ours):

There was also the requisite pack of dogs at the finish as well (as with most mountain bike races).  Here they are tied down and acting well-behaved (mainly because they are tied down, of course):

We soon crowded around to see the awards presentation.  Despite losing the last stage to local hero Sam Koerber, Jeremiah Bishop held his overall lead to bring home the big check for his efforts:

“Retired” pro rider Susan Haywood left no doubts about her “post career” fitness by winning every stage on her way to the overall womens’victory:

One of the great things about being at an event like this is that it’s too small for the pros to hide afterwards.  Here we are ambushing Jeremiah Bishop for a photo op after he got his award.  He, like everyone there, was super friendly and was all about posing with his comically large check:

Here we are with Susan Haywood.  Having recently watched “Off Road To Athens” for the first time, I was super stoked to meet both of these mountain biking legends:

The camaraderie shared by all of the riders in an event like this can really make the experience.  Here we are with one of the other teams, Stephen and James (or “The Brits” as everyone took to calling them).  Nearly every day we touched base with the other team riders just to check in and see how everyone was doing.  In my experience this is one of the principle differences between road racing and mountain bike racing: even at the top levels of the sport, mountain bikers are essentially out there to have a good time.  Sure, there are exceptions to this rule, but for the most part we all enjoyed the company of our fellow sufferers stage racers:

Here are the Brits grabbing some face time with Susan Haywood:

Another cool thing about this race was the trophies.  They had custom trophies made for all of the top finishers.  Sadly, we didn’t win one of these (this year) but here’s Denise showing off hers:

The podium wasn’t exactly built with the team finishers in mind, so it was a bit cramped.  Unless, of course, you took 5th place and got to stand on the ground.  How about that!  I’m sure you can see the jealousy in the eyes of the other teams:

With two large burgers consumed and our awards collected, we loaded the car and started the final leg of our journey by heading home.  As we were leaving, people kept asking us what we thought of the trails and if we would be back.  “The trails were incredible,” we assured them, “and of course we’ll be back, we haven’t ridden Farlow Gap yet!”

Pisgah Stage Race: Land of the Waterfalls Loop (Day 3)

Another day, another 6am wakeup call.  It was cold, wet (it had rained during the night) and dark in the morning when I rolled out of bed (near record-setting cold as it turned out, but we didn’t know that yet), but we had a race to get to so we had to get going.  After a gourmet campfire breakfast cooked up by Chris, we pulled on our chilly biking gear (which for me involved many layers but oddly no tights or kneewarmers—just my Performance Elite II bib shorts) and headed over to the start line.

Everyone was giddy to get started, and not really sure what to expect from today’s stage, when the race promoter, Todd Branham, got on the microphone.  First off, he said today’s stage should be easier than yesterday (already, warning bells were going off in our heads—when we factored in the “It’s like Pisgah” factor, we knew we were in for an adventure).  The stage would start with a 7 mile section on the highway, followed by a long gravel road climb and then a “sketchy” descent (again, remember that “It’s like Pisgah”!)  Ah, but wait, there’s more.  Soon after the descent we would encounter a stream crossing that was “waist deep” and about 40 feet across; they don’t call this the “Land of the Waterfalls” for nothing.  Then the kicker: “Get used to this,” he said “as you will then do this seven more times.”  Of course, all of this was going to happen in the first 15 miles of the day’s stage—so the rest of the day would be a slog in cold, wet shoes!

Here’s a map and elevation profile of the day’s stage:

There was no time to rethink our sartorial selection (or sanity), as the race was on; albeit with the aforementioned 7 mile police-escorted road section.  With road spray kicking up into our face from the rain-slicked roads, we soon found a small group (including a grateful, and hilariously spinning, singlespeed racer) and pacelined our way to the gravel road climb.  Up we spun to finally reach singletrack on the Vineyard Gap Trail (although my legs were already feeling spongy from the day before).  Then it was down the “sketchy” descent towards the stream crossings; basically we were flying down a gulley with drop-offs and slick, diagonal waterbars, and just hanging on was the order of the day!  We made it down, but then it was time for the real fun to begin:

Here I am fording crossing #1, from the perspective of an extremely dedicated race volunteer (in hip waders) standing nearly waist-deep in the middle of the stream, directing traffic.  As you can see in this shot of Chris, the water came up to about mid-thigh and it was (technically speaking) really cold!:

As soon as you made it through the crossing, the payoff was a steep, slick, ankle-deep mud bank:

1 down, 7 to go!  This became our rallying cry as we repeated the stream crossings.   Scramble and slide through muddy trail, splash into the icy creek (thankfully not as deep after the first one) and then slog up a muddy bank on the other side; 2 down, 6 to go!  Here’s a video of a particularly tricky crossing across a little rapids section:

That’s me giving a rather premature thumbs-up there in the middle of the crossing; I had no idea what was coming for the rest of the day!  And the other guy crossing the stream wasn’t even in the race; he was (of his own volition) just out for a ride on his singlespeed!  You’ve got to love the folks who come to Pisgah.

The stream crossings finally behind us, we took our soggy and frozen feet and slogged our way up another seemingly endless gravel fire road to the first rest stop of the day.  My DeFeet Wool Blaze Socks were trying their hardest to keep me warm, but there are limits to the wonders of wool!  At the rest stop the ever-friendly volunteers refilled our Camelbaks as we tried (in vain) to warm ourselves by the fire (yes, they had fire pits at the rest stops too).  It was here that we heard the first rumblings of what the weather had in store for us.  But we wrenched our tingling feet from the fireside and pressed on to Laurel Mountain.

The trail started out fine, but then started to tilt skyward.  Chris still had the legs to climb, but I was soon off the bike and pushing/pulling/dragging my bike up the trail.  Then it started to get cold and the clouds rolled in around us.  What started out as sleet soon turned over to, yes, snow!  As we trudged upward, a springy grey-haired guy came bounding down the trail in running shoes and shorts (seriously, the really short kind) and off-handedly said “It’s really snowing at the top.”  Great.  Here I am pushing up what felt like a near vertical wall:

Once we finally made it to the top of the hike-a-bike section, it was actually quite beautiful with the dark trail arcing away through the freshly snow-covered forest:

Luckily we both also brought along our packable Performance Cyclone Jackets as we were searching for as many layers as we could find as we rolled over the top of the mountain in the snow.  Of course, it probably would have made more sense had I brought along some leg warmers:

We made it through the snow, to be rewarded with the famed Pilot Rock downhill.  Weather conditions improved as we hit the switchbacks down the mountain, but the trail was still epic.   High speed descents were punctuated by sketchy, rocky hairpin turns, all with sharp cliff drop-offs on one side (along with some stunning vistas).  Near the bottom of the descent we started to hear cowbells and screaming, and soon enough we came upon this crazy bunch of locals that had set up camp by a nasty rock strewn stretch of trail:

Chris made it through unscathed, but as soon as he passed by he heard the crowd go “Ooooh!” in unison.  The cause of the exclamation; yours truly taking a sweet headfirst, bike-flipping dive into the rocks.  Relatively unharmed, I collected my bike and got riding again with the exhortations of the crowd ringing in my ears.

At the next aid station Chris loaned me his ridiculously blue leg warmers (that’s what teammates are for!) that he had fortunately sent ahead to this rest stop (another nice perk of the race).  After a loooong fire road stretch, it was back into the woods, on steep singletrack leading to the Avery Creek Trail.  Chris was still climbing away while I was just trying to survive. Another rocky, rooty descent and then it was time to climb yet again.  Up and up on the fire road leading to Black Mountain we climbed; Chris throttled back so I didn’t get separated from him (since if we finished more than 5 minutes apart they would add an hour penalty to our time, plus he’s a good teammate).

We were relieved that at the top of the road we only had to suffer through a short section of “The Miserableness” from the day before ; the hike-a-bike section was merely unpleasant this day.  The descent off Black Mountain couldn’t have come soon enough for me, and I just held on and let the GT Marathon bail me out on the way down.  We finally crossed the finish line, a mere 7 hours and 15 minutes after we started (in case you’re wondering, this day covered 44 miles with 9500 feet of climbing):

After a quick pit stop to get cleaned up, we came back for the best part of the day, free beer from New Belgium Brewery and a free 30 minutes of massage (oh, pity the plight of the mountain bike stage racer)!  Honestly we needed this after the day’s stage, plus I got the perfect spot on the massage table right in front of the heater.   Here’s Chris looking mellow after his massage:

We grabbed a pizza in town and headed back to the campsite to eat by a roaring fire.  We tried in vain to dry out our sopping clothes by hanging them inside the GT tent, but this was pretty much a lost cause since the air was just damp at all times:

Finally we just gave up and tried roasting our wet duds by the fire.  Here’s Chris trying to dry out himself and his workhorse Shimano SH-M086L MTB Shoes with a crackling fire:

With word of a freeze advisory overnight, we packed up our gear for the next day and stumbled into our tents.  3 grueling days down, and 1 more to go.

Pisgah Stage Race: White Squirrel Loop (Day 2)

David did a wonderful job with that write-up of the prologue but he’s busy flooding your e-mail inbox with e-mails right now so it’s back to me (Christopher).

Day two of the Pisgah Stage Race started early. We woke up at 6:00 in the pitch black so we could be dressed and have eaten by the time the sun came up. The stages all started at 8:00 so we didn’t have much time to dilly-dally. A couple of packets of oatmeal later, we pulled on our new Performance Bicycle Race Kits and pedaled our way to the start line (which was only about a mile from our tents).

You’ll also notice my illumiNITE arm warmers which are quite warm but react strangely to cameras.

The whole field rolled out onto the road for about a mile before hitting the day’s first climb: a 7 mile gravel road (past a horse stable) which gained us more than 1500 feet of elevation right away.  By the time we were most of the way up, the field had thinned out with the lead group already long gone.  We would only see two or three riders at a time for the rest of the day.

At the top was the first rest stop which we promptly skipped. The resulting descent was exhilarating and very fast. We tore through tunnels of Rhododendron plants at break-neck speed and soon entered a very difficult section of trail. This trail went on for miles and was carved into the side of a steep slope (only about 6 inches wide in most places). Because of the massive amount of rain that we had experienced, every root was a chance for a crash and every rock was as slick as ice. I went down hard a couple of times over this section and David managed to break his left pedal. It still basically functioned but he had to find the side that worked every time he wanted to clip in. There couldn’t have been a worse place for this to happen as we were on and off of the bike every 2 minutes for over an hour scrambling over rocks and roots.

Rest stop 2 couldn’t come soon enough. We weren’t quite sure what to expect (other than food) but after another grueling fire-road climb we were desperate for a quick break. As we pulled into the stop, volunteers leaped to our attention holding our bikes, getting us food, even taking our packs off of our backs so they could refill them with water or energy drink. Luxury!

After consuming three complete PB&J’s and having David’s bike looked at (they didn’t have a spare pedal but did get his shifting smoothed out) we headed back out feeling much better and even got to enjoy some of the beautiful scenery (above).

After some more tame trail, we started up the backside of Black Mountain. This would be a recurring theme over the next three days as each time we finished by descending Black Mountain. Before we could get there though, we had to make it through the part that we started calling “The Miserableness”. Some course marshalls at the final rest stop told us that we were facing “just two quick peaks, a short hairy descent, then a punchy little climb before a HUGE descent full of rocks, roots, drops . . . well you know, it’s like . . . Pisgah!”

We of course had no idea what that meant. Oh yeah, it’s like Pisgah. It’s like a place we had never ridden before. Terrific. This became a theme for the rest of the weekend. Course marshalls or rest stop volunteers would constantly stop us to tell us what to expect next. They would describe a section and it would turn out to be about 10 times bigger/longer/harder than they had described. As we would reflect on this, we would shout, “it’s like Pisgah!”

Here I am at the top of “peak one”. With the leaves changing it was truly a beautiful vista. Not so much worth the 45 minute hike-a-bike that it took to summit the two peaks, but pretty nonetheless. We couldn’t believe that it was only the first peak and wouldn’t be convinced until the trail finally turned downhill.  The grueling climb was completely unrideable and we spend much of this hour pushing and pulling our bikes up the trail.  With this picture taken, we tore down Black Mountain (2-3 miles of descending with stair-step drops, gullies and ripping high speed sections) to the finish line exhausted but happy. All in all, we got in about 40 miles that day and it took us about 6 hours and 8 minutes (a mere 2 1/2 hours after the winner of the stage, Jeremiah Bishop).

Back at camp we were very happy to see everything as we had left it. We showered and ran out for some Mexican food before starting a fire to settle in for the evening.

We cleaned and lubed our drivetrains using the camp spigot before hanging our bikes to dry (not the recommended method, but you work with what you have).

Soon it started to rain but not very hard and the temperature also started to drop. Not to be discouraged, we set up the GT tent over the picnic table and roasted some marshmallows.

I fell asleep about 30 seconds after hitting the air mattress at about 8:00 and slept like a log while a gentle rain pattered against the rain fly of my huge tent.