[Part 2 of 2]

Part 2 of 2


I played it safe on the first section of singletrack. I knew I would ride more confidently here if I’d had any experience at all on this trail. I found myself picking wrong lines as I couldn’t see far enough ahead in the dark, but I wasn’t letting myself get frustrated. I turned my headlamp from low to medium, and I used my handlebar light as well to cast shadows behind the rocks to better understand their contours. After about 2 hours of picking through the rocks, I had to stop and look around. I realized I had been thinking about nothing for two hours. This riding required extreme concentration. It was past midnight and I hadn’t taken any caffeine yet, and I wasn’t sleepy at all. I looked up at the moon, now gray-white, and it appeared that the clouds were getting sucked into the moon. Days of moving forward had given me that tunnel movement illusion. I heard some gunshots in the woods uncomfortably close, and kept moving, hoping the hunters were responsible.

I expected this to be a very challenging section so I had divided it into very small chunks on my mileage sheet, mostly by intersections with highways. My avg speed goals were around 4.5 mph, and I was happy to see that I could keep this pace even with hiking up steep technical bits. I was out of water again but was delighted to find a tiny stream even up on the ridge. I squatted to get water and found the stream teeming with minnows, tadpoles, and frogs. Real estate was tight up here! I filtered with one hand and wolfed down the Arby’s sandwich with the other. What a treasure. They don’t have Arby’s in Vermont. I followed the Arby’s with dose one of my caffeine drink.

I was happy to make it through the big corners of the Snake on my GPS. The unique zig zag of the trail made it easy to comprehend from a map and gave me discrete, achievable stretches. I was feeling good and was sometimes surprised by stretches of dirt road. Free miles! Then the singletrack returned, including another rocky section. I felt like I could do this all night.

But the Pinhoti here is relentless, and after a few hours my spirits waned. Between Pocket Rd and East Armuchee Rd, in the rooty rhododendron depths of the Pinhoti, I found my low point. The climbs and descents were short and punchy and seemed to twist around pointlessly. This was the only stretch during the entire TNGA at which I wanted to stop. My thought was generally: night riding sucks, I want the night to be over, I could just sleep until the day time. I am still not sure what kept me going here. Maybe it was that I had committed to doing well in this event, maybe that I knew I had loved ones watching me on trackleaders. Maybe it was that I had devoted so much time and energy to training, and to driving down from Vermont for this event. In the future I need to have a good default “Keep going” reason so that I don’t need to think of one in the moment. (Kurt will realize that I didn’t do my mental preparedness homework). I put my headphones in and cranked up the volume, listening to weird electronica that reflected the bizarre and mysterious landscape around me. I pushed my bike up more short, steep climbs. My hallucinations grew stronger; I would get surges of stress as I turned my head to see what had moved in the corner of my eye, only to find nothing. Then, even with the music, my head started to get stuck repeating weird or negative or pointless thoughts. It felt like my brain was ridiculing me. I recognized this as something that needed to stop. I turned the music off, but I was having auditory hallucinations as well. My brain seemed to be personifying everything. I snapped myself out of a genuine conversation I was having with my Garmins. They were arguing with each other and I wanted to help them sort it out.

The trail grew gentler and went by some bizarre grassy clearings that were somehow comforting to me. Then I looked up to find an enormous tree. The tree was giant and welcoming and made me feel safe. I looked for a spot under the tree without poison ivy. I leaned my bike against the tree, and I propped my legs up against the bike. I kept my helmet on, which did a nice job cradling my head like a pillow. Medium-sized ants darted across my arms and legs. I told myself not to care about this. I set an alarm for 20 minutes.

I remember snapping awake twice. I decided to get up before my alarm went off and noticed that my head was pretty clear. The cyclic thoughts were gone. I got up and moved forward, feeling a little disoriented, but happy in my ability to execute a power nap.

The Pinhoti had more challenges in store for me, but I was mentally prepared. My face nabbed spiderweb after spiderweb. I wasn’t 4 hours behind Toone – these spiders must have been very busy. I had spiders riding along with me, building webs between Garmin and handlebar light. At one point a spider repelled from my helmet and did a little aerial pose right between my eyes. I didn’t mind the spiders; I only worried about the big ones.

My forearms took slashes from thorns at high speed. There were some downed trees and some sections with very thick brush. Now I know why other riders wore long sleeves. I recognized poison ivy and was not excited to brush against it. There was a random dirt road climb that was uncharacteristic for this stretch and was pretty difficult with loose dirt. Following this was a section of very overgrown trail.

Soon though the trail got easier. The grade reminded me of cross-country ski trails in the Northeast. I could feel the night waning, and I was picking up speed. But I wanted to sleep. I felt I would be unable to face the morning without some REM sleep. I kept my ears open for running water. When I found it, I stopped, climbed down to the creek and rinsed off my arms and legs and face in an attempt to clear the poision ivy (unsuccessfully, I would find out a few days later). I hiked back up to my bike and laid out my bivvy on the soft grass beside the trail. It was warm enough that I opted to stretch out on top of it, plus I was entirely wet from sweat and washing and preferred not to cocoon myself in mylar. I kept my shoes and helmet on, crossed my hands across my chest, and just slightly aware of the grass bugs fluttering around me, quickly fell asleep.

I woke to my alarm 1hr15mins later. I felt very refreshed. It was about 6:30am and the dawn was just getting that dull lightness. I packed up and got on my bike. Slow going but my knee still felt okay. I must have had some food but I can’t remember. In the ensuing sections of brush, the insides of my elbows were so raw that I found myself pushing out my chest to take the brunt of the slashes. I knew I must be getting close to the horsebarn water supply, and when I saw the power lines, I rejoiced a little. The water spigot was exactly where Honcho said it would be. The haybales cast an aura of dry warmth, and I wanted so badly to take a nap in the hay. Two naps in three hours and still I felt sleepy! I ate some more and finished the caffeine drink.

The caffeine and the growing daylight lifted my spirits, and before I reached W Armuchee Road I was ready to get serious again, ready to put the night time struggles behind me. I checked trackleaders and saw that Brandon had closed the gap quite a bit! Was he only an hour behind me? Did he sleep at all? Surely he must be more tired than I was based on how much I slept on night 1? Regardless, I was now motivated to get after it.

I was still having low-level visual hallucinations – my heart would start at the sight of a skinny sasquatch sitting on the trail, but it would be only a log, or a rock.

I made quick work of the ridges going down to highway 27. It was nice to stand in a high gear and fly down a ridge, good to have some pavement, and good to leave the snail’s pace of the night behind me. Near Narrows Picnic Road I missed the turn to the Pinhoti, but didn’t let that discourage me and just turned around to it, cost me 10 minutes at most. While climbing on the Pinhoti here, I heard the sudden dreaded pop of a spoke breaking. This was a low-level fear I had the whole time. I build my own wheels, and I’m not great at it yet, but I knew that this particular wheelset was overly tense, which makes them feel nice and stiff but on the other hand leads to occasional breaks right at the J-bend (unless it was due to a burr on the eye in the flange? Again, I’m still learning this craft). I was in luck though that this break didn’t cause frame rub. So I wrapped the spoke around some neighboring spokes and kept going. Dodged a bullet there.

The day grew hot and the ridges continued, but I felt better and better. I had plenty of food so didn’t need to stop for breakfast. I made sure to keep fueling with sugar and electrolytes. I was happy to be moving fast and really wanted to put a gap between myself and Brandon. The doubletrack turned to singletrack and I was elated to be flying through the trees. But again, I needed water. I should have known there would be no water on a ridgeline!

I remember distinctly reaching the “High Point” mountain right over highway 100. The drop down to 100 was so visibly steep and the trail so benched that it felt to me like a trail from Colorado or Utah. It was thrilling.

At the trailhead in 100, I stopped and rested – it was hot out! – and I checked trackleaders again. Brandon was still in hot pursuit. When would this guy get tired? I needed water before Coosa. I saw there was a creek crossing at the rail trail and beelined to it.

At the creek crossing I repeatedly rinsed my infinity scarf and wrapped it on my head. It felt incredible. I drank a bottle of water, a bottle of water mixed with Tailwind, then filtered four bottles and mixed one with tailwind. I was planning to transition to gels, gu’s, and tailwind to finish this sucker. I aired out my chamois again, with high visibility down either side of the rail trail to make sure the coast was clear. I cleaned my sunglass lenses and let them dry in the sun. I raised my saddle slightly. I killed my chamois cream. I got everything ready for what I wanted to be a final push to the finish line: rail trail and road for ~45 miles. I could do that.

Before long I reached the gas station in Coosa. It was dang hot, 93 or higher and 100% humidity. I went inside the gas station just to cool off and have an ice cream and a Gatorade. I chatted it up with some locals, checked on Brandon (still closing the gap!) and then set out into the heat.

The route sent me up on an on-ramp, and I thought – really? Then I saw the Pinhoti sign and felt reassured.

This was by far the hottest stretch. I felt like I was in an oven. I had to squint behind my low-light sunglasses. It was uncomfortable, but I had plenty of water and electrolytes, so it did not exhaust me.

As soon I wished for a rainstorm, I heard the thunder. The clouds grew dark behind me and to the northeast. I saw that my turn was coming, and I wanted it to rain on me while I was still on the hot pavement! But the rain didn’t come, instead the sky just grew darker. I pulled over on the highway and put all my electronics in my waterproof bag, still excited for the rain. A highway work crew was frantically loading up the last of their equipment. I saw some plastic garbage flying through the air and then got hit with a gust of wind that I had to brace against. The wind was cool! Then there was lightning and stronger thunder. I started to question my plan. I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I should probably get off the highway. I was now 100% cooled off and had a new problem to worry about.

I headed West down Blacks Bluff Road with the tailwind of my life. Just to my right I saw a Baptist church – with a lightning rod – and I turned in. At first I settled down under the main entrance awning facing east, but it became apparent that I should find a different spot because of the strong winds and sideways rain. I nestled down under a north-facing awning on top of a door mat, in between some hedges, and put on my arm warmers and jacket.

The rain came hard and cold. I quickly opened my bivvy and got inside. I could feel the rain drops pelting me through the bivvy, but I stayed dry, and my still-exerting body kept the bivvy warm. I laid my bike on top of myself. The church awning didn’t help much as the rain kept lashing harder and harder. The thunder came instantaneously with the lightning, the kind of thunder that sounds like the sky is tearing open like paper. I was frightened and glad the steeple had a lightning rod. Then came the hail. With my head sideways on the doormat I could see the balls bouncing off the ground. I pulled my bivvy even further over my head so the only part of me that felt the water was my hair through the helmet. I was worried about Brandon, and everyone on the ridge. I would hate to be on a mountain in this. You might die. I hoped they were okay. What if I had been on the highway in this storm, like I had wished? I imagined myself crouched off the shoulder of a highway in the muddy grass among the garbage and the raging rain, crying like a little kid. A humbling reminder of the power of nature. I was grateful for this church and for my little doormat. What an adventure. I couldn’t wait to tell my friends about this.

I snapped awake – to the sound of a freehub? Was that Brandon passing me?? I frantically unzipped my bivvy and looked at the road – I reasoned it was too far away for me to hear a freehub... or was it? The air was still and the sky was wringing out the last of its raindrops. How long had I been out for?? Could he have caught me in that time? Was he even still alive after that storm? I must have imagined the sound. Right?

I packed up and headed out. The road was a mess. Tree debris was everywhere, and power lines were down. I passed another Baptist church with a grandiose and spacious front porch. Then I saw a tree missing huge chunks out of its canopy – it had been struck by lightning. Sections of it were sheared off in every direction, and one of these had taken out a power line. Amazing! As I pedaled on I saw more power lines down and cars carefully navigating the downed lines. Ambulances, fire trucks, and power trucks made their way through the streets.

About 20 minutes away from the church, the roads were noticeably clearer. It occurred to me that this storm was probably very localized.

I was trying to do the math for how much distance was left and I settled on about 30 miles. (I had kept clearing my Garmin at every checkpoint so I didn’t have total trip distance). I then came upon Cave Spring which was a very charming town. Should I get some hot food? 30 miles road, some singletrack ~ 3 hrs. Maybe yes, hot food. I set my bike on the bench outside and set my SPOT tracker where it could more easily face the satellites.

I ordered a barbecue sandwich and some fried mushrooms. I charged my dead phone and twiddled my thumbs. I soon discovered two fun facts: 1) Cave Spring is 15 miles from the end and 2) Brandon was about 10 miles behind me. I regretted my decision to stop here.

After a million years the barbecue sandwich and mushrooms came out, I paid hurriedly, told them thanks, put the mushrooms in Styrofoam in my jersey pocket, and started pedaling out of town while wolfing down the sandwich. It was incredible. They don’t do it like this up north. I un-regretted my decision to order the sandwich.
I wondered how well my SPOT would transmit from the singletra-

My SPOT! I had left it at the restaurant! I cursed out loud and beelined back to town. There it was. Back in place, I started pedaling away from Cave Spring again, expecting Brandon to sneak up behind me at every turn.

The Pinhoti singletrack right before Santa Claus Road may have been the most fun I had on the entire course. The pine-straw-covered ground was remarkably dry after the rain, and the woods were cool. The singletrack has good flow and berms. It was easy to fly up and down. The singletrack lasted past two road intersections. Then I got to the long dirt roads to Alabama. I passed some locals chilling at their car, drinking beer and watching the day fade in the cool air. The sun was breaking through the clouds and the roads felt wonderful: long, straight, easy-rolling hills. There were some nasty dogs with friendly owners. My legs felt good. I made it to the Chief Ladiga trail and realized I was pretty much done.

I crossed the line at 59:47 to the kudos of Brian from Mulberry Gap (and his puppy Bro) and one of Brandon’s friends who had dropped out earlier. “He should be rolling up right behind you any minute now,” Brian said. Tell me about it, I thought.

I pulled out the fried mushrooms and snacked on them proudly.

* * * * *

When I got back to Mulberry Gap that night, there were a few riders including Jason Shearer, and there also were Mikey Intrabartola and Peri Garite. It was great to see my buddies from the Northeast. Just the previous September, Peri and I had experienced The Adirondack Trail Ride together, which is the route that Mikey created and the event he puts on. Peri and I had banded together with Kris Dennan to make it through the final night, crawling uphill at a snail’s pace and having pointless conversations to keep from nodding off. Peri had just made it to Mulberry Gap, had just scratched, and was still in his kit, and Mikey had scratched when he made it to Mulberry Gap the day prior. They weren’t used to the heat – I suppose that I still was, that growing up in the heat, the tolerance has stayed with me. That makes a difference.

Palmer, one of the MG staff, equipped me with a bathrobe and a towel and pointed me to the bathhouse. What a treat.

Around midnight I fumbled around with my gear and built my tent. I was having trouble with conversations and with simple tasks.

With my tent built, I went and showered.

I came back and crawled inside my tent and passed out for 11 hours.

* * * * *

I was very slow-moving in the morning. Jason commented that I looked better the night before.

Mulberry Gap made me a delicious breakfast. I enjoyed chatting with Brent Marshall and Jason. It was cool to hear updates on the Birmingham road riding scene, which is how I got started cycling in the first place, also about Brent’s experience hosting a cyclocross league. Jason’s wife and Mikey talked vans – Westfalia vs Sprinter.

There was Brandon Lee. He had finished on his singlespeed the night before and had some blood on his face. I asked him about the storm, if he had seen any debris in the road. He shrugged his shoulders. A man of few words.

* * * * *

Leaving Mulberry Gap was a challenge. The community there is so strong, and it’s great to be posted up with riders coming through every few hours. You want to encourage them but also to acknowledge their struggles. They may not need encouragement at that moment.

For the record, right after I finished, I hung around to watch Brandon Young cross. This was one of his first (if not his true first?) cycling ultra, though he had experience with trail run ultras (which he says are harder). He said that in the storm he was on the ridge, that he sheltered underneath a tree. Like a boss.

On the drive back, Mikey and I relived some of our best moments. He didn’t seem too disappointed about his SCR. He was also genuinely happy for me for placing well, which is a sign of a mature rider and a good friend. I knew too that he had two more Grand Departs this season: The Adirondack Trail Ride and the Vermont Super 8. I expect him to do well in those and will be lining up with him for one of them.

After a few hours on the interstate, Mikey and I were hungry. I scoured the Exit signs. No sign of an Arby’s.

[Part 1 of 2]

Trans North Georgia Adventure 2019 Grand Depart: 17 Aug 2019
finishing time: 59:47
Read at your own risk!


Part 1 of 2

I had been lying down for an hour and still hadn’t slept. I was trying to ignore the ant in my bivvy. It was 3am and I was at route mile 142. I wasn’t sleepy, but my plan was to sleep 3 hrs on night 1 to be fresh for the challenges of night 2. And I had to trust the plan.

The trees above me grew brighter from the headlamp of another rider about to overtake me. I heard the buzz of the freewheel, the rustle of leaves under rubber. Then the light vanished. I thought: I have been keeping ahead of these folks all day and now I am just lying here in the dark, not even sleeping, just letting them pass me like it’s nothing. This is ridiculous. I am wasting time. I should get up. How do I feel? How does my knee feel?

Earlier in the day my knee had started to complain. This was a relatively new pain that had surfaced late in my training, the week before my taper period. I didn’t know how to deal with it, but Kurt’s advice echoed in my head. “The body’s ability to recover is amazing.” Yes, body. You have amazing abilities. Trust the process.

* * * * *

At the encouragement of my friend Gabriel Doutreloux, I’d had coaching sessions with Kurt Refsnider in the months before TNGA. I had done 2 ultras in the past, but I knew early on that I wanted to perform well at TNGA, and Kurt happens to have taken first place in 2018. He had some course-specific pointers, but mostly we focused on heart rate training, which opened my eyes to a few key strategies. One was that I should take it very, very easy on steep hills to avoid exhausting myself. Day 1, with all its hills, was an exercise in restraint.

In the first 25 miles there were some crazy steep pitches, but only just enough to impress and not discourage me. I knew I had to restrain myself, and this meant sometimes that I had to pedal as slowly as possible without falling over. The morning hours had me in a great mood as I was thrilled at the beauty of the Georgia woods. Periodically I was snapped out of the trance by sudden tricky turns.

I spent about an hour on day 1 yo-yoing with Steve McHone – he would catch me on these ultra-slow climbs and I would pass him on the flats. He’s chill and we kept it light-hearted. Unfortunately he was having some nav trouble and I passed him before Dillard. Zooming down the singletrack through the rhododendron tunnels to Dillard really put a smile on my face.

The rest of Day 1 was enjoyable. It was hot, but the woods were cool enough, and it was easy to keep a positive attitude.  I had a fine time with the nutrition I brought although I was trying to ration my shot blocks to last the whole ride. Climbing up the Tallulah River gorge was pleasant, passing groups of Saturday swimmers and people fishing. There was some trail magic, and the guy handing out Coca-Cola’s said, “Wait, you’re on a Surly. Did you want a Miller?” Definitely not!

Towards the top of Tallulah my heart rate spiked. Even when I slowed down it seemed to stay way too high. It was really hot, and I was working hard, but I didn’t feel like I was redlining. I would dial back my effort, but then as soon as I started to climb again, my HR would ramp right up to numbers that I knew meant bad news. If I hadn’t been wearing my HR monitor at this point, I may have grinded through this section way too hard. I still don’t know if it was the heat or what. It lasted 15-20 minutes.

At some point in these climbs I caught up with 72-year-old legend Linda Sledge, who had started that morning before the grand depart. I remembered her from my time working at bike shops in Birmingham. Back then she had a Niner hardtail that must’ve weighed only 15 pounds. We would have to get it ready for her big rides in Colorado or wherever. It was inspiring to see her again. She was on a full suspension Niner, still sporting gripshift.

At mile 62 I went off-route a mile to the marina on Lake Burton. (I learned later that most folks stop at on-route at Moccasin Creek State Park, which apparently has an ice cream freezer? Dang.) Sure enough the marina had a store with cold drinks and ice cream. I filled up all my bottles, downed a vitamin water, and rode away still working on an ice cream sandwich. The best.

In the afternoon my knee started bothering me. I couldn’t tell if it was triggered by efforts up climbs or extended descents. I was worried and had no idea if it would get better or not. I decided to dial back my efforts just a notch.

Tray Mountain stands out in memory as a mega-hill. It seemed to last forever, and it had been recently graded and the dirt was sinky-loose in spots. At long last I crested it and peered into the oncoming valley in the late afternoon, knowing that Helen was down there, the first major resupply at mile 97. Coming down the other side of Tray was an adventure in itself. The descent immediately puts you on singletrack strewn with boulders, which my friend Jeff Mullen had warned me about from riding the previous year. I saw the sockets of the boulders in the red dirt on the uphill side – supposedly it’s bears that pull them out to look for bugs? I couldn’t tell if this was snipe-hunt kind of local hogwash or what, but I tried to dodge them as deftly as possible, keeping in mind the consequences of an endo or a broken derailleur- hanger. Soon enough the boulders ended, and it was back to zipping down singletrack to Helen.

I reached Helen at about 7:15 – 1hr45min ahead of my goal -- where I was thrilled to have caught Dave Chen, Brian Toone, and Joe Urbanowicz. Dave was inflating his rear tire and Brian was standing around eating. I had seen previous performances by these guys on trackleaders and knew they were contenders. A dot watcher informed me that Dunaway, the leader, had jetted 40 minutes prior. Dang.

I took the opportunity to introduce myself to Brian Toone. I remembered him from Birmingham as well, before I moved up north. Brian – covered in dust -- would wheel in his Trek Madone with like 3 Garmins, wearing a huge backpack like he was commuting and riding 100 miles at the same time. Today he was crushing TNGA on a full suspension mtb with platform pedals. Still a legend and still an enigma.

“Really nice to meet you. I’ll see you later I’m sure,” Brian said. He would turn out to be wrong about that.

Dave Chen gave me the rest of his gallon of water before heading out.

I spent 35 minutes restocking at Helen, realizing I would need to buy breakfast here as well. Brandon Lee rolled up on his rigid singlespeed. I asked Brandon how he was feeling after coming down from Tray. He made some faces that I interpreted to mean: that was quite hellish but I can’t think about it too much because there’s so much riding left. Brandon is a man of few words.

I finished my dinner of barbecue chips, Spicy V8 juice, a Clif Bar, almond butter, a Twix, a Gatorade, and pecan pinwheels, and I set off from Helen in the fading evening, glad to be putting some pavement miles under me. I felt slightly too full from all the food but the slow pavement climb helped with digestion. Brandon passed me on the climb.

I reached Vogel State Park happy with my progress. I didn’t know what to expect ahead, but I had the mileages of two creeks written down for water if I needed as well as a tentative sleep area. I resisted taking any caffeine, which was difficult as I was starting to slow-pedal and I knew caffeine would help me go faster, but I knew it would inhibit my ability to sleep, which would hurt me on day 2. Trust the plan.

I came upon some folks walking back to their car by the light of their phones. “Nice night for a ride,” I said, which got them to chuckle. Easy jokes are worth a lot to show people that you’re okay, that you might be doing something crazy but you’re a normal person who means no harm.

I passed Cooper’s Creek Store, which didn’t open until much later. There was Brandon Lee, sitting at the picnic table. I’m not sure but based on comments he made earlier I think he really wanted hot food (this was the last chance in a while).

At about 1:45am I saw that I might be leaving good camping land so I stopped to check my progress. It felt premature, but that’s when I decided to pull out my bivvy, change into my jogging shorts, get to sleep early and then wake up early. For my knee, and for the plan. The body’s ability to recover is amazing.

* * * * *

My phone alarm woke me at 4:45am. I knew I’d slept for at least an hour, but I didn’t feel any different. The cicadas were much quieter and the ants seemed to have died down, and I wondered if it wouldn’t have been easier to fall asleep at this witching hour with the bugs calmer. I then did something I’m not good at: I got up and packed up in the pitch dark morning. I was in the saddle at 5:00, and by 5:15 I was zooming down the pavement through the Toccoa River valley, blinky lights on, headphones in. My knee felt about 50% better, and I was ready to take on day 2.

The sun rose on me at the Aska Trails. The singletrack was a joy. I was feeling good until I realized I had missed a turn onto the high trail. I stopped, took out my headphones, watched the sun come up, and had my Starbucks doubleshot can and honeybun there before Stanley gap. I was fine. It was a pretty great breakfast and the sunrise was beautiful. Then I bushwhacked up to the high trail without getting caught in negativity. I would defend my decision to bushwhack, rather than retrace my steps, as within the spirit of the event. I didn’t save myself any time or energy with this “long cut.”

Descending into Cherry Log was pretty challenging, and the knee pain started to return. I tried switching my uphill and downhill legs on the descents, tried (carefully) keeping one knee at 6 o’clock and the other at 12, unweighted. I raised my saddle slightly so I would have more extension in the stroke. I tried everything except moving the saddle forward and back on the rails. All these measures seem to have helped a little bit, along with keeping my efforts lower on day 2 than on day 1. I favored the inside at the top of my stroke -- this seemed to help in the long term. The knee pain would remain for the duration of the race, but never as intense as it was on late day 1. The body’s ability to recover is amazing!

By Cherry Log I was just about out of water. I looked at the post office – a spigot! But no knob. There was a community center and there was Jason Shearer, drinking a Coke. I had to ask him a few times for intel – like was there any water here that he knew of – and he may have had headphones in, but this is when I realized that I was in an altered state after riding through the night, that I needed to remember this and try a little harder to communicate with people. I knew I had about 10 miles to the auto body store with an honor-system refrigerator. Jason informed me that the 10 miles was pavement. Sweet! I didn’t care if it was climbing or descending; this early in the morning I had 10 miles of pavement in me without water.

I took about 20 minutes at the auto body store to rest and check my phone. I saw that there were only a few folks in front of me, including those who had passed me in the night, and I was determined to close the gap.

At the auto body store I probably took more than I should have. I treated it as a full resupply. I gave them ample dollars in return, but I wondered if there would be enough water left for people behind me that day. I would later hear that there was a church across the street also giving out water to TNGA riders, but still. I wasn’t sure if this was in the spirit of the event and it weighed on my conscience for a little while, probably disproportionately due to whatever sleep deprivation does to you.

I felt good and energized through the forest service roads and I knew I was approaching Mulberry Gap, where I was not planning to stop. At the Bear Creek Trail trailhead I noticed immediately that I had been there before, years prior, for a friend’s bachelor party. This made me really happy. I flew down Bear Creek like I knew it like the back of my hand, even though I had only ridden there once. I even missed the same turn that we had that time. I stayed entertained by the details coming back from location- based memories.

I caught back up with Steve McHone. It was hot, and he was having saddle sores. He told me he hadn’t been able to sit for hours. I asked if he tried airing out, and he had, but to no avail. He said he would scratch at Mulberry and I encouraged him to get them to wash his kit and to take a day to see if his sores recovered. He said he didn’t have that kind of time. He knew when he entered the event that he would either do it fast, or not at all, because of his time constraint. This is a good reminder that although some folks consider SCR a defeat, in some cases it’s because someone has a hard stop to get back for work or some other obligation, and you have to acknowledge that even starting the event and doing a chunk of it is an accomplishment. DNF is better than DNS.

Navigating the Pinhoti near Mulberry Gap in the heat of the day was fun but tiring, and I found myself again out of water. My plan was to skip MG, but would that really be faster than filtering 4 water bottles? My inner voices – Kurt, Jeff, Gabriel, myself – they all suggested to skip MG because I would get sucked into the comforts. I stopped at the next stream I found and decided to filter. I also took the liberty of dropping my shorts to dry them out, as every part of me was drenched in sweat. I filtered with my Sawyer while keeping my ears on alert for any approaching bike or, God forbid, a hiker.

The filtering was successful. I only filled up 3 bottles because I was *almost* out of the woods and why carry the extra weight? (Should have done 4). I finished the pre-Mulberry Pinhotis and then started climbing out on P3. There was an older hiker gentleman hanging out on the side of the trail and somehow, he seemed to have all the intel on rider status. I would run into him at Mulberry Gap afterwards. He goes by Ben and had been hiking from central GA.

I knew it was only ~20 miles trending downhill from MG to Ramhurst (resupply before Dalton), but I wouldn’t let myself get excited as I expected this section to be difficult. I followed the tight singletrack uphill to a highway, then to a jeep road, then down (slowly tailing a caravan of jeep drivers), then bombing down singletrack again, watching the miles tick by! I screeched to a halt at a creek because I had run out of water AGAIN and was feeling like I wouldn’t make it to Ramhurst without water. Looking back now, that gap between water stops was 14 miles of mostly singletrack and 2.5 hrs. My rule of thumb is one bottle every hour, and you can see that this being the hot part of the day with lots of singletrack exertion, even on a downhill trend, I still needed more water than normal. Water stops will keep you humble.

My understanding is that in years past, this and the following sections of the Pinhoti have been overgrown and unkempt (“just wait til you get to the section where you can’t see the trail through the tall grass”) – I think this was supposed to be that section, but it had been mowed! Gentle trail cruising at this point. I passed recreators on ATV’s and found myself pushing steadily and excitedly towards resupply. One final singletrack section, then a short but angsty climb out, then bam, drop to pavement!

In Ramhurst there was a glorious selection of gas stations. My first hot food in 36 hrs. I stopped at the Sunoco and got chicken fingers and jalapeno poppers with dipping sauce (there were no mozzarella sticks left – damn you Toone!), also Frito’s, a Gatorade, a V8, a smoothie drink, and ice cream. I bought some candy for the road, including night crawlers (sour gummy worms, esp. Trolli’s, are my fav night food). I was going to get some 5-hr energies, debating between regular and extra strength, when the gas station attendant recommended something else. It was a scary looking bottle with clear liquid inside and warnings all over not to drink the whole thing at once. I read through the ingredients: besides the >200mg caffeine per serving and B-vitamins was yerba mate and some other herbal extracts. The rule of thumb is never to try something new during a race, but the ingredients list looked familiar enough to me, and I knew I had a strong stomach. So I did it.

I took my sweet time resupplying at this Sunoco in Ramhurst.: 1hr20mins. This is where I checked trackleaders and verified that I was squarely in 3rd place. I ate a lot, lubed my chain, put my feet up, let the sun continue to go down, had a little bit of Garmin trouble saving the previous 10,000-pt track on my eTrex, and talked on the phone with my girlfriend. About the time I was leaving, Brian Toone was climbing out of Dalton to take on the Snake, and Brandon Young (behind me) was making his way through the singletrack after Mulberry Gap. I felt good about my position but knew I had to get going.

After such a long break, it took my butt about 20 minutes to get used to the saddle again. I was patient and eventually was up to a good 17+ mph pavement cruise. Again, it was good to give myself a long stretch of pavement to help the food digest. Even though I couldn’t imagine eating again, I stopped at Arby’s in Dalton at 9:55pm and got a beef and cheddar sandwich and some bottled waters. I dressed the sandwich with Arby’s sauce, carefully rewrapped it, and stowed it for later in my feed bag.

At some point in Dalton I looked up and saw orange lights way up high, then it occurred to me that I was looking not at the night sky but at a mountain – the Snake looming over me in the dark! I was happy to find the climb out of Dalton to be pavement. I reached the turnoff at the top then hiked up steep stuff. The dirt was very loose, and I knew I had a rocky and technical singletrack ahead of me with high sidewall-tear risk, so I let some air out of my tires, knowing that I would keep my speed low and happy to roll on softer tires.

Riding the ridge before Snake was stunning. To my left, a blood-orange nearly full moon rose over sprawling Dalton. To my right, I could see the mountain fall away and scattered lights below. A cool cross-breeze made the trees whisper. The spooky landscape renewed my energy for the night riding ahead.

[This year's Super 8 Grand Depart on Friday, Sep 27 in Montpelier, VT]

The VT Super 8 is a 640-mile gravel bikepacking route in the shape of an 8 that covers the Green Mountain State. Check it out at vermontbikepackers.org/routes.

In 2016, @groundshine reached out to me and to another friend in southern VT in an effort to scout loop options for the infamous XVT Bikepack Route. Point-to-point rides are great, but the logistics are always an extra barrier, so why not loop? The initial plan was to connect as much singletrack as possible, but as the initiative grew -- and as gravel and monstercross bikes continued their foray into bikepacking -- it became apparent that connecting singletrack networks wasn't the best future for this route. Singletrack in VT is usually really twisty and hard to navigate on your GPS device, especially at night, and especially when trails are constantly getting maintained and re-routed by trail organizations (which is a great thing!). So we abandoned that idea and just focused on charting a huge, amazing route that takes you to some of the weirdest corners of Vermont using some of the most remote roads as practically possible. VT's "Class 4" roads are ancient town highways that are required to be cleared of deadfall by towns, but are not required to have their surfaces maintained... read: sweet, chunky miles. They don't close when it rains, although they are often torn up by ATV traffic. We continue to use the state's public road database to ensure the route is legal, which is no small feat considering the number of populated square miles per total state land area. We also capitalize on Vermont's unique human geography (small towns in every direction) so that resupply points are spaced strategically along the route, making this ideal for a light touring setup.

So the Super 8 is like the gravel cousin of the XVT. It's like the Green Mountain Gravel Growler, except it's bigger, hillier (fewer flat sections per mile), and it gets you away from the touristy bits.

We intend this route to serve as a basis for custom bikepacking trips. You can access the Super 8 from Amtrak train stations in Montpelier or Brattleboro (near Mass). Or you can travel to Burlington and take the Cross Vermont Trail or the Green Mountain Gravel Growler until it meets up with the Super 8. (Pretty soon you will be able to access it from the Eastern Divide ... who has tabs on that??). It has been written that "you can't really pick a bad road in Vermont," ... I would agree! But why not let us pick the best ones?  


This year's Super 8 Grand Depart on Friday, Sep 27 in Montpelier, VT will be hosted on trackleaders! If I remember I'll post the link here. We have approx. 20 people signed up at this point (and at least one ITT). Because the route is in the shape of an 8, riders have 3 mileage options to loop back to Montpelier: 260 (north lobe), 380 (south lobe), or 640 (full 8!). I know it's late, but if you're interested in joining, send a letter of intent to dan@vermontbikepackers.org.

Current FKT of any revision of the Super 8: Payton Macdonald in June 2018: 7 days, 3 hrs, 40 mins. Rumor is he is heading to the GD again this year.