Other teams fly to warm locales for spring training camp. Not Mighty. We drive through snowstorms to ride in near-freezing temperatures on dirt roads while eating face-fulls of grime and avoiding rock falls in the middle of nowhere.
The views were worth it though.
It's been two weeks since MFG Woodland Park and the official end of my race season. With the last VCXC race being postponed until January, I think most 'cross racers find themselves in the same boat: ready for a change of pace. For some, it means bolting on fenders and starting base training for the spring road season. Others will hit the velodrome, Zwift it up, bring out the squish bike, strap long wooden things to their feet in search of snow, or just sit around drinking eggnog and gorging on Ferrero Rocher. Hey, I'm not judging; I'm sitting here munching on a Twix bar as I type this.
This is one of my favourite times of year; almost everybody has wound things down after a hard year of pursuing whatever competitive goals they've set for themselves and have no problems exploiting this tiny window of time where they can remind themselves that chasing Q/KOMs or trying to set new power bests doesn't have to be the driving force behind their riding.
For me, this means heading out and getting lost, reconnecting with folks I don't get to ride with as often during the busy summer and fall months, looking back at the season that was, and starting to layout plans for the season ahead.
There I was, sitting in the back of a car on the way back from a spectacular failure at the Oregon Gravel Epic. On top of feeling bummed because that event didn't go the way I had wanted it to, I was also feeling the anxiety of being in the middle of nowhere, relying on somewhat spotty cellular data coverage to try and register for one of the most-anticipated events of the upcoming year. Given the sheer volume of hype in the coverage of last year's Grinduro, I was expecting it to sell out pretty much instantly. I was able to snag a spot, although was somewhat surprised that it took about a week before the number of entries dried up.
For those who haven't heard about the event, it's a 100km gravel ride with about 2,500m of elevation gain. The difference between it and most other gravel grinds is that it uses the enduro format, with four timed sections (1.9km gravel climb, 10km gravel descent, 10km rolling pavement TT, and finally a 5km singletrack descent) sprinkled throughout, allowing riders to participate in a rolling party ride for most of the day with the option to fire up the afterburners should they so choose.
Fast forward five months...
I flew into SFO on Thursday morning, fit in a short ride in the evening, and then drove the four hours (more like six in traffic) to the event venue in Quincy to set up camp with a small contingent of other riders from Vancouver, unload the gear, and check in for my swag bag. Friday night was pretty uneventful, so I'll spare you the details about drinking beer, cramming food into my face, and climbing into my sleeping bag. Actually, those were all the details...
Fast forward eight hours...
Shit. it's 6:00AM. My alarm hasn't gone off yet, but I can hear people in the camp area around me beginning to stir in their tents. I have a very urgent need to pee, but am loathe to emerge from my warm, downy, cocoon and face the dark of day. "Can I squeeze in another 30 minutes in bed without wetting myself?" runs through my head. I decide to chance it, but the pressure on my bladder is preventing me from actually dozing off again so I decide I might as well get it over with and start the day.
Food trucks were on-site the entire weekend, and all meals were provided to riders on event day. Off to find myself a breakfast burrito and coffee generously provided by Verve Roasters out of Santa Cruz before heading back to the tent to try and figure out how to dress for the start of the day. Did I mention that it was cold? The morning started with temps in the low single digits, but would warm up with the combination of the sun rising and the first climb. The debate came down to how cold you were willing to be and for how long. The organizers did promise us a clothing drop at the top of the climb, but given my history of forgetting things at events, I didn't want to repeat past mistakes. Besides, this is exactly why I bought a bar bag for events like this! Like the majority of riders, I started with arm and knee warmers and a vest and my normal full-fingered gloves. Even as the effort ramped up, I couldn't feel my hands until about an hour in. That's fine. Who needs fine motor control anyway?
The first timed segment came about a third of the way up the opening climb. I definitely under-estimated how long the section would be, went out harder than I should have and faded a bit towards the end. Do your course recon, kids! I kind of wish this first segment was either a little bit longer to be a sustained 15-20min threshold climb, or shorter to be true vo2max effort. Our group of Vancouverites had wanted to stick together as much as possible, but the difference in climbing paces meant that the group ended up splitting up after Segment 1. After a brief stop at an aid station, my group continued climbing. And climbing. And climbing. And climbing. Ad nauseum.
Fast forward two hours...
Boy, that was a long climb. Garmin says my longest to date. It wasn't particularly steep, nor was it technical, but it kept going. I was running a 38x36 low gear and that was more than enough to keep me turning over a decent cadence in a Z2/3 pace. The toughest obstacle was the clouds of dust being kicked up by the hundreds of riders. Sure, it made for really pretty sunbeams, but my lungs don't really care about that. You know what would have been really handy? That bandana that was so kindly included in the swag bag that I didn't bother exploring until after the ride. Or the bandana that I snagged from the SRAM booth in the gear expo. Womp womp.
What comes up must eventually come down, so the timed descent was next up. I've been riding my current Cannondale SuperX for three seasons now on various adventures, so I know how it behaves on this kind of terrain. The new variable was the new wheels I'd picked up this season from Woven Precision, based out of Ottawa. I'd grown tired of denting aluminum rims on rides like this and wanted something that would hopefully be more impact-resistant. I've had the wheels for about a month and have been riding them tubeless in local races, but this would be my first extended ride out in the wild with them. I had intended on swapping out the 35mm WTB Cross Boss with 38mm Panaracer Gravel King SKs, but knew that I was going to switching to mud treads for the remainder of the CX race season when I got back and didn't want to bother having to deal with yet another tire switch and sealant mess. Long story short: I am a tubeless convert, especially when it comes to this kind of application. I was probably running pressures a bit on the high side at 32/35 PSI, but better safe than sorry. The setup was faultless the entire day, including some pretty gnarly singletrack at the end. No burps, no punctures, and there was never a lack of traction when I needed it. There were plenty of other riders at the side of the trail, especially after the downhill segments or any time there was shale involved. With some challenging light conditions and the dust, I did hit a few square edges at inadvisable velocities, but the wheels didn't implode under me and I rolled along after hits that would have guaranteed pinch flats.
Almost immediately after getting to the bottom of the descent was the start of the rolling TT segment. There were six of us together at this point and we were all eager to get to the lunch spot afterwards. There was a bit of confusion as we rolled through the timing mat, resulting in the group almost immediately splitting in two with one rider, unbeknownst to the three of us in the front group, desperately trying to bridge the gap. We made some impressive time considering the wind in the valley, getting caught by Team Rock Lobster who started behind us, about 500m from the finish line/lunch stop.
At this point, I should probably mention that Grinduro is incredibly well supported with water and/or aid stations after every major section of the course and mechanical aid in the form of either supplies like tubes, sealant, tires, or neutral mechanical service. Given the availability of Clif product and other snacks at the aid stations, I probably didn't need to stop for as long as I did and it would have made it a lot easier to get rolling again. The plate of pasta salad probably wasn't the greatest idea, but it was better than the roast beef wrap I briefly tried to consume. Thankfully, the mechanic who was touching up my shifting was hungry and was happy to claim it for his own.
I wish I could tell you that the Coke I had loaded into one of my bottles worked as jet fuel, or that after 70km in the saddle that I was still feeling fresh enough to dance up the final climb, but I'd be lying. A little piece of me shrivelled up somewhere on that slope, but I had plenty of company. I rode what I could, but was never too proud to get off and push my damned bike uphill when I had to.
Fast forward an hour and change...
One segment left and I was cutting it kind of close to the final time cut off to make it to the timed section, but first, I had to make it down the first bit of singletrack. it was some of the gnarliest terrain I've ever been on: the majority of it being loose sand over hardpack, interspersed with wheel-crushing ruts and jutting rocks, made even more challenging by the ever-present dust being kicked up by riders who either had more skill or less regard for their bodies than I did. Oh, did I mention the super-contrasty light that went from overhead shade to full-on sunlight making it almost impossible to see anything more than a foot in front of me? At one point, I ended up with my wheel in the soft shale on the left edge of the track, looking down at a sheer drop off the mountain and needing to take a moment to compose myself after facing my own mortality. I finished pretty low in the standings for that segment, but I finished without breaking anything on my bike or my body, so I still consider it a win.
All in all, a super fun event with the right mix of camaraderie and party vibes with the opportunity to indulge your competitive nature if you wanted to, which sounds more appealing to me than slogging it out for 12+ hours at something like Dirty Kanza where overall time for the entire route is the key factor.
Some miscellaneous closing thoughts:
The last time I was in the SF Bay Area a few years ago was to follow the first few stages of the Tour of California up Mt. Diablo, Folsom, and Sacramento. My biggest regret was not having my bike with me and the cost of decent rental outweighed the amount of use I'd actually get out of it. It's a shame that it's taken this long for me to find my way back, properly equipped this time.
I flew into SF on the Thursday morning before Grinduro with the intent of finally experiencing a ride in the Marin Headlands, but the funny thing is how my interest has shifted in the intervening years; where I once dreamed of carving down the roads surrounding Mt. Tamalpais, I now wanted nothing more than to jam on some dirt single track.
Some Internet sleuthing led me to the Stammtisch Ride, a ~2 hour social ride starting at Rapha San Francisco up into the headlands and finishing with post-ride bratwurst and hydration at Biergarten. The routes apparently vary between tarmac and dirt-centric options, but with Grinduro coming up that weekend, it seemed like 99% of the folks who showed up were on knobblies. There were one or two who came on road bikes with slicks, but it wasn't a huge deal; the ride starts on some mellow multi-use path and asphalt and those riders had the option of continuing up on paved surfaces while everybody else took things off-road.
It's easy to take for granted the usual route(s) over the Lion's Gate Bridge here in Vancouver and the views from the North Shore. Crossing the Golden Gate felt both familiar and new at the same time and it was refreshing to see a different part of the Pacific Coast, especially as the sun set. With both WestJet and Alaska Airlines' more lenient policies regarding bikes as luggage, I hope to be able to come back to do more exploring in the area in the not too distant future.
