Trucker's CTR report -2013

This is my story from the 2013 CTR.
My second time participating, which means that twice I've gotten to participate in one of the coolest things on earth. Thanks Stephan for putting it out there, you inspire in many ways.
No pics...lots of words though
Day 1- 4am roll-out. Over seventy racers lined up in DT Durango for the start. Friends and family milled around while riders cinched their straps and bantered about. Our organizer/leader Stephan made a brief speech and then said “go”.
Off we went. I stayed up front with the big boys hoping to match their pace. I’ve learned that on a ride like this I’ll be fried by the afternoon no matter what. Being fried was a given...the question was, “How well do you ride while fried?”
The route starts with sweet ridable single-track, mostly climbing, but good stuff. Then comes the climb up Kennebeck Pass. I left Junction Creek at 8,500 and climbed stupid steep trail up to the high point on Indian Ridge at 12,300. This was brutal, but it brings you to an amazing knife edge ridge with endless views of the Rockies in all directions (not a rare event along the CT). Catching my breath was disguised as looking at the view. The trail stays high from there and rolls along in a tough, barely ridable manner. The bike felt heavy and the clock seemed to be on meth. Before I knew it, the sun was setting and Silverton (my goal before a bivvy) was a long ways off. Sunset was amazing...of course. I was having light issues and riding with others...mooching their light when possible and enjoying their company. As real darkness fell, I knew getting dinner in Silverton wasn’t going to happen, so I pulled off trail to get my headlight working and have a rest. I was tired and decided a cat-nap was in order. So I crept into my bivvy sack sans sleeping bag and slept for about an hour until the chill of the evening got to me. Then as the full moon rose, I cruised the final miles to Molas Pass and the road to Silverton. I arrived in S-town at a bit before midnight expecting a totally dead town. Instead I met a local who let me get water. Then as I rode on I heard music and saw a bar type place was still open. I stepped in to find a whiskey fueled group of folks. I asked the bar man if he had any food to sell and he said he had just shut the register down and was done for the night. He then proceeded to give me a half-eaten bag of chips, all his left-over cookies, a pile of sliced cheddar and two oranges...gratis. He wouldn’t let me buy the stuff. Man I was stoked. I rode out of town and used moonlight only to guide me to the base of Stony Pass, where I slept for 3 hours.
Day 2-
I awoke to the same moon that put me to sleep and immediately started going the wrong way. Oh I felt so good and the hill was so easy. Too bad it was the wrong hill. When I got back on track it was a hill from hell. Too steep to ride, rocky and unwaveringly tough. After close to 3,500 feet of climbing I was wiped and crawled back into my bivvy until the sun came up. Already the sleep monster was rearing its head.
The next sections of trail are absolutely amazing. Amazingly hard...and amazingly beautiful.
Riding and hiking in the tundra is unlike anything in CA. Often the trail doesn’t exist. Instead rock cairns guide you across rocky high meadows. Not easy to ride but very easy to love. I’d been there before so I never succumbed to the false hope of “this must be the last hill’. Instead I always assumed there would be another and was thus never emotionally crushed at the sight of yet another steep unridable climb.
This led to the second road detour which I rode until close to midnight. I was going stupid slow on easy gravel roads....so I bivied beside the road. I slept for 3.5 hours and then got rolling again.
Day 3-
I climbed Los Pinos Pass (small) and caught up to Brad from N. Carolina. I was going by moonlight alone so he had no idea I was approaching.I watched him swerving all over the place and realized he was falling asleep in the saddle. I spoke and he didn’t respond so I turned on my light and whoa! surprise!
We rode together for a bit. Eventually the cold started creeping in and I had to pick up my pace to stay warm. Riding by moonlight was fantastic. But the cold got to me after a few hours and back into my bivy I went, wearing every layer of warmth I had. I arose at sunrise and made my way to the end of the road detour, where I found the “trail-angel” Apple’s camp. He was not there but had left full jugs of water, coolers of soda and boxes of snacks. I stopped just long enough to grab a coke and eat a package of nutter-butter cookies and fill up on water. The snacks were nice but the water was crucial. The next section was hard and dry.
After some great trail I missed a turn and went way way off course. Arghh.
Back on course I made it to what all agree is the suckiest part of the CT...Sargents Mesa. Brutal, rocky, steep, unridable, hot, dry. I soon was out of water and eased up on my effort to compensate. After an eternity I got through and rested a few minutes at a lovely creek crossing. Brad showed up and we rested for a few.
Back on the bike I had my first afternoon of “super-legs”. I just felt great. I got to the base of Marshall Pass at sunset and went over the pass and down to HWY 50 by moonlight and bike light, joined by a few racers. Bivied at HWY 50
Day 4-
Started with a small group of racers and slowly fell behind. Legs were not “super” at all. I crept along to Princeton Hot Springs where I stopped at the store for an ice cream sandwich and a frappuccino. A great way to get 700 calories into the system.
The hill out of there is paved but stupid steep. Then as I got closer to the top a t-storm closed in on me. Water-proofs went on and I kept on truckin’. I was well below the tree line so the lightning did’t scare me too badly. Slow and steady, I made my way to BV for a resupply and some hot food. On my way out of town I stopped to replace my rear brake pads and of course struggled a bit. A burr on a bolt was keeping it from backing out. Luckily a local had stopped to check on me and this happened while we were chatting. He went to his truck and got a tool to help me....lucky me. Soon I was moving again and made my way up past Twin Lakes for that night’s bivy. I had decided to sleep 5 hours with hopes of feeling OK in the morning. I set up under a clear moonlit night.
Day 5-
Three hours later it started raining on me. So much for 5 hours of sleep. Oddly the sky was mostly clear, mine was the only cloud. I was feeling really zonked. When I saw a gnome tied to a tree I figured I should rest some more (there was no gnome). I sat against a tree in the woods, shut down my lights and sat in the dark resting. I may have napped, or not. The “R” stirred me and I slogged my way to Leadville. My throat was sore and swallowing anything hurt. My energy was really low and a hot breakfast in L-ville didn’t help. I actually fell asleep while riding to the next trailhead. Once at the TH I set up a yard-sale with my gear so it could dry out. I ate my second apple fritter of the day and napped while my gear dried. (At that point in the morning I’d eaten french toast, bacon, and two apple fritters...yet I was still low on energy.)
After that I was recharged enough to ride again. Amazing passes, trail and scenery ensued. Eventually I landed at Copper Mtn. Resort which only offered a fancy dancy bar & grill. I passed and instead ate some bread and cheese at the bottom of my next big climb, the “ten-mile”range. Just as I started up the trail a t-storm rolled in. The flashes and bangs were practically simultaneous, the thing was right on me. So I crawled into some dryness under tree protection and put on my layers for the wait.
This being Colorado I was barely settled with my warm layers on when the storm passed and sunshine ensued.
And so I zipped up the ten-mile at sunset on my evening “super-legs”. 2,700 feet of climbing in four miles....all smiles. This was a joyous CTR moment. Without the push of the “R” in CTR I’d have probably waited for the morning to climb the ten-mile. Riding at sunset, at 12,000 plus would please many cyclists, but the Ten-mile has an ugly side too. This was the descent to Breckenridge. If I were riding a DH bike I’d still call it rocky and sketchy. If it was light out I’d have still said it was a gnarly descent. As it was, I was on a hardtail XC bike in the dark (before moonrise) with lame lighting. The rocks in the trail were mostly white quartz. They looked like giant marsh-mellows stuck into the ground under the pale illumination of my light. So I followed the marsh-mellow brick road to the outskirts of Breck , where I bivied.
Day 6-
I slept a mere 10 feet from the trail on a rare dry spot under a tree. While sleeping I heard the buzz and zip and saw the receding glow of riders passing me in the night. This was a cool thing, being passed didn’t bother me. I was just stoked to see and hear these wanderers of the night. Had I a cow-bell I’d have rung it hard and loud for them.
I rose as soon as it was light and got on a section of trail that was new to me. In 2011 it had been closed for logging and I had obediently skipped it. It was a ‘ripping’ trail. After the marsh-mellow trail of tears it was joyous to ride a good trail. In 2011, I skipped probably three hours of trail riding when I detoured around this segment. Eventually I got to the last big climb, Georgia Pass at 11,800 feet. The high country in Colorado is really special so it was with mixed feeling that I accelerated to mach-3 down the other side to Kenosha Pass. 10 inches of packed dirt swooping and carving through a vast meadow of wildflowers.
Kenosha Pass was where another unknown section began for me. In 2011 the route used the highway to skip wilderness. It would have been 12 miles of downhill and 8 or so rolling gravel miles to get back on trail. Instead the new route stays on trail for 5 more miles and then does 70 + miles of dirt, pave & gravel until you are back on trail. This section was missing from my GPS route since it was a recent change. So I used my Trail Data Book to guide me. The book was written for people going southbound. I was going the opposite direction, and so I had to reverse all the directions. I did poorly at this. I knew I needed left turns but miscounted intersections and made a left where I needed to go right. It was up hill, and long, and steep, and THE WRONG WAY. I grunted and grinded and struggled up a mountain towards Lost Park. I estimate I was off course for 15 miles and 2,000 feet of climbing before I got back on course. On the plus side it was a very fast return to the route...bonus shredding!. The actual route was super easy in comparison, but my spirit was badly bruised. At this point my food supplies fit into my hip pocket. I had a cliff bar and cookie. Dark thoughts entered my mind. “I wasn’t going to be able to finish!” I had totally screwed up on my food logistics.
Then I saw neon...huh...beer signs?.....an open sign?....HELL YEAH I’m stopping!
I stepped into the bar and asked if Tarryal (20 miles down the route) was a “real” town. The bar folk indignantly said “ of course” and then added that it had no services or stores. However the bar had a little store next door and they opened it up for me. It was nearly barren, stocked with random necessities. The food was mostly junk. For me though, it was nirvana...I was going to finish! I turned to a local guy next to me and said, “This is the greatest store I’ve ever been in!” Four giant packaged muffins, four Payday candy bars, four Mrs. Fields cookies a bottle of gatorade and two small bags of fritos (all they had....so alas only two). Then I went back to the bar and had a sandwich, chips, beer and whiskey. After my wrong turn I wasn’t feeling much of the “R” , hence the beer and whiskey. I knew I was going to miss a sub 6 day finish so I might as well enjoy myself a bit. The bar-man had been expecting me. Earlier racers had clued him in to the trackleader website. He said to me, “We saw you going off route earlier”. The Spot lets the whole world watch your stupidity was my response...ain’t’ that great. He was a cool guy though and the bar folk all were curious about the race. It was nice to chat over a cold beer while sitting in a padded chair. This was the type of place where the owner’s Pit-bulls had free reign over the bar. When my food arrived, one of the dogs became my best friend.
I slipped out and buzzed down the road to Tarryal at sunset. When I saw the volunteer fire station I knew I was at my bivvy...I like fire stations. I crept around back and slept in the gravel. No it was not ‘comfy’ but at that point horizontal is more important than soft.
Day 7-
I awoke soaking wet from the dew and then rolled right past the turn I needed. Close to ten miles later I hit a highway and knew I was $^#%ed. Back up the road I went. It was consoling that when I found the right road it was not an obvious thing. The sign was small and set way too far back to be seen. (I later learned that other racers had missed the turn as well). The next miles were steep and gravel, sometimes freshly graded to boot. It sucked. As the sun got higher it became hot, dry and suckier. The nice views and cool rocks couldn’t quite compensate for this.
I eventually made it back to trail and it was there that I rediscovered “joy.”
Not only was it all ‘trail’ to the end, but it was a net loss of altitude. That is not to say it didn’t roll a bit. And force me to my feet often. It was fun. As I fed and watered at the start of the last segment, two racers came past. Guys I hadn’t seen in many days. It was cool to see them. The fact I was losing two places in the ‘R’ didn’t bother me. I lost to these guys when I got way off track those three times. Besides, unless you’re at the front, this event is really a race against yourself.
The final miles of trail were great. Rocky technical descents, shady swooping turns and more down than up!
And then it was over...Waterton Canyon. Six miles of gentle downhill would have been perfect, except for the headwind which forced me to pedal my way down the road. For me it was poetic, we don’t do this because it’s easy.
Then I won. Timing is everything and Angels are just that. I pulled in to the lot and found not only the riders who were ahead, but also their “crews” and Brian and his Angelic Wife.
They gave me good pizza. More importantly I got a ride to the camper van, many miles away at the Denver Airport. All this while a huge storm dumped, boomed and banged overhead. My journey to the van would have been hellish without their help.
So I finished. I felt OK. I felt OK? Weird.
I had just finished with food and water and mild temps. Of those three I had had one...water, when arriving in Durango in 2011. That time I was shelled....a withered zombie. This time I felt OK.
Of course my body hurt and another day would have been a day too many. The butt pain was a given, but additionally I had a hot spot of sorts on the ball of my right foot which was excruciating.
So I won in my own way. I crashed zero times. I had zero flats. I had zero mechanical problems. I replaced both sets of brake pads without much trouble.
I rode hard.

Final Thoughts

Was it worth it ?
I put a lot into this thing. It was fun. Tons of riding and three overnight trips to get tuned up. But the race wasn’t ‘fun’. It was a challenge to be overcome which has some fun parts sprinkled in. I don’t regret doing it and I’ve smoothed out a burr in my brain by completing it again. So in the end, yes it was worth it.
Was it harder going Northbound?
Definitely yes. The first day alone makes the difference. Despite being fresh, the hills are crazy hard going up and rather gentle going down, especially towards Silverton. Going southbound takes advantage of this.
However the finish is an order of magnitude easier when you go northbound. Ending in Denver means an easy and fun finish. Logistically it made no difference.
Was I better prepared?
Definitely yes. Spending three weeks at altitude in advance made the high country much more fun. I probably rode a bit too much right before the race but I got a chance to ride Crested Butte, which was priceless.
My route preparedness was lacking. I definitely could have done better navigation and logistical preparation. ‘nough said about that.
Did my sleep plan work?
Definitely not.
I need to sleep. I now see clearly that I can make up for lost time by riding faster when I’ve slept. My plan of 4 hours per night never quite worked out and I felt sick with tiredness a bit too often.
Will my marriage survive another trail race?
Hell yeah!