Big Mountain Riding

We’re off to Moab, Utah again! So wired to get a chance to rail Porcupine Rim Trail again, to tackle the ledges and sand of Amasa Back, and to sample some new-to-us trails like the M-O-A-B Brand Trails. Dig and I will be out there for at least 5 days of riding, and we hope to have a shot at The Whole Enchilada, a 27 mile trail with more than 7K of descent!

Watch next week (Oct. 25-30) for pics / vid and debriefs on some epic big mountain rides.

©2010 Big Mountain Riding

Serving up a true EPIC race – the 2010 Wild 100
WARNING: Contains dangerous acts, stupidity, pointless stubbornness and rude animal behavior. Not suitable for impressionable youths or those who see the bike solely as an expression of two-wheeled serenity.

Read Part 1

Story and photos: Randy King

CP 3 to CP 4 – A long, muddy climb

In a point-to-point mountain bike race, the choice of routes can make all the difference; through the optimal trail choice, a bold rider can build big margins. Getting to CP 4, located in a lean-to shelter plopped in the middle of a bunch of squiggly contour lines on the “Difficult”-rated Bear Pen Trail, presented this opportunity. Riders could travel via the “Extremely Difficult”-rated, and “Not Recommended”-labeled Tea Creek Trail to climb up Bear Pen to the CP and continue on to Gauley Mountain Trail and out to the Mine Road. This 5-6 mile route presented some gnarly creekside riding and crossings in its 2,000+ of vertical gain. Given the deluge, the crossings had to be gonzo. Alternatively, riders could climb up the 7 miles of Bannock Shoals, a verdant double track, and then put it in a bigger gear on the Forest Service Road for another 5 miles of gravel road climb to the entry into Gauley Mountain Trail, and the climb up to Bear Pen Trail and to the shelter. One or two loco souls soldiered up the contour-crossing Turkey Point Trail to Bear Pen. The trail runs perpendicular to the contour lines for 1,000 vertical feet!

I opted for the “safe” route, thinking that I wanted to avoid the dark depths of the Monongahela’s worst. Thus began my lowest leg of the race.  Slogging up a ten mile climb is never going to rank in the fun things to do list. Add in a deluge to slop the perpetually-damp doubletrack of Bannock Shoals and soften the gravel road, and I’m pushed to the edge of my morale.

Fortunately, no one passed me as I sat Indian-style on the wet ground, tightening the SPD cleats on my shoes. I hopped back on the bike and began the long climb. A swollen creek bellowed down the rocky valley to the left. Each pedal stroke pushed my tires into the muddy trail surface (and moved me slightly forward). I could see my front tire squishing into the muck with each crank, and it angered me. With the bike’s suspension locked out front and back, I was still losing so much momentum.

The climb up Bannock Shoals felt like it would never end. Each turn in the twisty, tree-arched trail brought only a limited vista of another stretch of grassy doubletrack disappearing into the darkness of the woods. Finally, I snapped. I roared out a primal yell at the top of my lungs. Immediately I felt better. And the next turn brought a break in the trees – the gravel Forest Service Road. The Fusco brothers were snacking at the gate marking the transition to a full road.

“Yeah, we heard you,” they responded. “We thought you had crashed.”

“I was just practicing primal scream therapy,” I said.

“Show-off.”

We continued up the gravel road, and soon the two Cannondale riders, Iggy Baron and Matt Lough, caught up to us – riding in tandem. Together we all ground out the long climb, seeking the connector from FS road 135 to Bear Pen Trail. None of us ever saw it. We eventually intersected with Mine Road and made our way to Gauley Mountain Trail for the second time that day. The puddles were much larger now, and we slopped and slid along the climbing grade. Eventually the Cannondale riders passed, and I followed shortly after, moving past the Fuscos who were struggling through a low point.

The Gualey Mountain and Bear Pen trails to CP 4 bordered on riparian.  Water flowed down the trail, creating murky puddles of mysterious depth on Gauley Mountain Trail. Bear Pen Trail, with its steeper terrain, had water flowing strongly enough to create white water foam in the places where it dropped over roots. I saw river foam in several places in this rutted trail.  Almost all of this trail section had water either standing or flowing across it. I marveled that my chain was not binding, yet I pushed several sections of the climb up from Gauley Mountain Trail, rather than risking a ride-ending chain bind or a bad leg cramp. Once atop the ridge, I put the hammer down through the root drops and around big puddles between the trees.

At CP 4 the youthful volunteer said that we had probably taken the best route. The connector between FS 135 – which we were all so bummed at having missed – was unmarked and unmaintained currently.

“Upper Bear Pen is really sketchy,” he said, having ridden in on it on his moto.

“The rocks are really slimy and wet, I almost dumped it on the creek crossing.”

CP 4 to CP 5 – The soloist

I found out that Iggy and Matt, the Cannondale riders, who were at the CP as I arrived, were Solo Male racers. Blast! I had dropped to 4th, mysteriously. Grabbing a Clif Bar for the trail, I mounted up and headed back out of Bear Pen as the Fuscos arrived at CP 4. At the steep section dropping to Gauley Mountain Trail, I encountered a traffic jam. Rolling down the rutted, rocky and loose terrain, I weaved through hiking racers (the cheaters from CP 3) and a moto coming into the CP in support of our race. Thanks to that moto rider, for his cheer of support as I railed down the slope. Little stuff like that serves as a shot of high octane in an almost-empty tank.

The ride out on Gauley went fast, as it is mostly downhill. Still, I had grown tired of the mud; everywhere the mud! Slopping through those puddles for the second time in 40 minutes, I looked forward to the relative dryness of the gravel road.

What a long, grueling roll along the ridge by myself. While my tires sank into the soggy gravel of the road, I tried to keep pushing a taller gear even as my energy drained away into the muck. No riders caught up, but I couldn’t catch Iggy and Matt either. One 100 Plus racer met me coming back to his extra CP. It was Clay Faine, another PMBAR-star from Asheville, who I would hang-out with later that evening at the survivors bash. We gave each other a shout-out – I had also encountered him as he rode out from CP 4, on the wet and gnarly Bear Pen Trail. I headed into the mist on the ridge.

Arriving at CP 5, I refilled on Gatorade, downed a bar and learned that I was seven minutes behind the Cannondales.

“You can catch ‘em on Prop’s if you hurry,” said Gil.

“Or Prop’s can catch me,” I said, soberly remembering its physical brutality.

“Yeah, or that could happen.”

I had originally thought I would take the gravel road back and bomb the Mine Road’s 1,800 vertical feet descent to finish up on pavement. However, after having slurped across the ridge on the way to CP 5, I didn’t know if I could maintain the necessary speed to out pace a normal descent of Prop’s.

And then the game changed yet again! A racer rolled up out of the mist – someone I had not seen all day. I wriggled into my CamelBak and picked up my bike with my soaked gloves.

“What class are you?” Gil asked.

“Solo Male,” the mystery rider confirmed. I mounted up and pedaled around him.

“Hey, what class are you?” he queried.

“Solo Male,” I said. “I was just trying to sneak out of here quietly.”

“Aha! And so the hunter becomes the hunted,” Gil chortled evilly.

CP 5 to Finish – The hunter becomes the hunted

Prop’s Run is a nightmare. I pride myself on my descending skills. It was all I had going for me when I started epic racing. However, Prop’s has my name and beats me every draw. I have picked up silver-dollar sized blisters on my palms from descending it at the end of a long race. I have flatted after its rock-lined water bars and dropped a place in the last minutes of the race. One of my best Wild 100 moves was the year I took the Mine Road all the way to the bottom instead of descending Prop’s.

Now I faced my worst Prop’s scenario. The soggy gravel road meant that another transverse of the ridge was too much of a gamble. My nearest pursuer was only a minute or so behind me. I knew I struggled with this descent. The pressure wouldn’t help.

I tore into the eight mile, 1,900 foot descent. Within 20 pedal strokes, I realized I had left my riding glasses at the CP. However, to go back meant losing precious time against my pursuer. I plunged on, knowing that of the entire race, these next eight miles were where glasses would mean the most. Eight miles of saturated, muddy downhill stretched away before me and my unprotected eyes. I shifted into the big ring up front.

Each horrid, rocky vee clutched at my slick tires. Mud spray-coated me front and back. Glops of black, West Virginia mud flew into my eyes and robbed my depth perception frequently until I could cry the mud free or swipe at my eyes with a muddy glove, risking a colossal wipe-out with these one-handed antics. Anger and frustration pulsed over me like the tide tearing down a sand castle. My goals were slipping away before my gritty eyes.

Riding beyond your limits is stupid. Riding beyond your limits with faulty depth perception and on an empty tank is beyond that. Still, I pushed beyond my limits as I sliced through the muck and slammed into the drainage features on Prop’s Run. Despite my effort, I soon heard the sounds of pursuit – the echo of rocks clunking as tires passed over them behind me. We raced silently like this for awhile; I knew any error of line selection on my part would open the gap for my hunter to pass. I rejoiced inwardly any moment I sensed he had fallen back for a second even. I knew he would have his moment. Mud kept preying on my left eye, and my hands relayed that my front tire was losing pressure slowly from all those poorly executed drainage crossings.

We darted up an embankment to pass one of the mires. I rattled down the roots and back onto the railroad bed. My pursuer yelled something, and I feared I had lost something from my bike or pack. I slowed, feeling guilty to just roll off if he had been nice enough to pick up my stuff.

“Hey, I have a flat!” He yelled.

“What?”

“I flatted again,” he said, rolling his bike up with a flopping front tire. My oxygen-starved and anger-squeezed brain didn’t understand what he wanted.

“This is my second flat on this wheel,” he babbled as I stared at him through bloodshot eyes.

“I gave away my other tube to Benji earlier, cause he needed it.”

“You don’t have a tube I could have do you?”

I looked at my own partially-deflated front tire. I had one tube.

“No, I don’t,” I said, making an ethical decision. “I can give you some patches.”

“I’ll probably never be able to find the leak in all this mud!” He cursed. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“I was in second place all the way through checkpoint 3. Then I took Turkey Point to Checkpoint 4. I lost an hour or more.”

That solved that mystery – how I had lost only one place after being passed by the two solo males on the Cannondales. I glowed at this random draw. I gave him two glueless patches and a piece of sandpaper.

“It’s most likely a pinch flat from all these rocks,” I said. “You should be able to find it pretty easily.”

I rode away, only going about 30 yards before I stopped to add air to my own front tire. Fully inflated, I pushed off and continued my descent of Prop’s, feeling fortunate and with a little breathing room. On the “flats” across the bottom of Prop’s Run, I kept one eye on my back trail, to make sure that some devil wasn’t catching up. My heart beat lightly and free as I rolled into the lodge to the ringing cowbells and muted cheers of a few faithful onlookers. 4th place in Solo Male. Well, 3rd, if you counted that the two Cannondale riders tied for second place. Either way, I had achieved my goals! The euphoria of accomplishment swept away the pain of the last 9 hours.

2010 Wild 100 Results

All that followed: Winner’s circle

“I know you probably don’t care,” said the girlfriend of one of the Cannondale boys as hosed off my bike and waited for my turn in the showers, “But your face is covered in mud!” I snapped my own photo to commemorate the scene.

Bike cleaner, self showered, I made my way over to the survivor’s feast. For awhile I hung out with the Cannondale groupies, relaxing with their banter and gibes at their friend who had DNF’d. They thought they had placed 8th or 10th, based on what the kid at CP 4 had told them. I told them they had done really well, and one of their group stepped over to the results board to confirm their placement. They left to get back home, and the Fusco brothers and friends showed up a bit later. The local brew and the plentiful buffet line slaked our thirst and lulled the hunger as well as started the healing process. We laughed at ourselves and each other, reliving the low lights and the ridiculous moments. The party went on until 9 when Gil awarded prizes. Moonshine in a Mason jar made the rounds. The mellow fellowship continued for another hour plus until the last racer – a 50+ rider – rolled in well after 10 p.m., having persevered through more than 14-hours of Slatyfork. We rang the cowbell and cheered him in. ERTC’s Mary had saved a heaping plate of food for him.

My prize was a bag of some of the most potent roasted coffee beans I have ever smelled, and a Burton hoodie. While I really don’t need another hoodie – I have a half dozen – I thought it highly appropriate, for the hoodie displayed a knife and fork clutched in two caricature fists and the admonishment – “Stay Hungry!” Indeed.

That was my big moment of self-awareness from the 2010 Wild 100. To place in a race like this you must be fit, you need luck,and you have to WANT IT. You have to be hungry for it. That’s the only thing that will get you through the long miles of gravel road, or the energy-sucking mud. Yes, you have to train and train. True, one moment’s bad luck could steal your goals. Yet, you still need to want it to achieve stretch goals.

That’s true of life too. I came home from West Virginia and entered 14 straight days of work. With each long day I told myself: if you can ride 70 miles in the mud and rain, you can do this. And so I pushed on, aiming for and achieving my goals with the same dogged determination that had carried the day in West Virginia. That’s what makes a truly epic ride: It changes you, as a rider and as a person.

Stay Hungry!

Read Part 1

©2010 Big Mountain Riding

Serving up a true EPIC race – the 2010 Wild 100
WARNING: Contains dangerous acts, stupidity, pointless stubbornness and rude animal behavior. Not suitable for impressionable youths or those who see the bike solely as an expression of two-wheeled serenity.

PART 2

Story and photos: Randy King

The Wild 100 in Slatyfork, WV claims to be the longest running mountain bike event held in the same location. While the race’s name has changed at least once, the Elk River Touring Center still plays host each summer to a small group of rag tag riders who tackle the Monongahela National Forest’s gnarly singletrack and big mountains in a roughly 100 KM (62 Mile) point to point off road race. This year was my 8th entry in this classic epic mountain bike race. I harbored high hopes of a top 5 finish in the Solo Male class.

However, it wasn’t going to be easy. In 2007, I set the goal of making the Top 10. After 8.5 hours, I crossed the line two bike lengths behind the 10-place rider. In 2008 I arrived in good form, feeling strong, and set a goal of Top 5. Eight hours later, after a big navigational error, I finished in 6th place by one minute. They say you learn from failure …

I skipped the 2009 event due to other adventures. However, I had ridden my bike more in the 18 months preceding the 2010 event than any other 18 months of my life. Earlier that spring I had rode a personal best in the brutal Pisgah Mountain Bike Adventure Race (PMBAR). So, although I spent most of July piloting a desk, I signed up and plunged into a compressed preparation, the Weekend Warrior 101. On the first day of this effort, the rear triangle on my trusty epic race steed, Jack Rabbit Slim, broke in three places. I love the Gary Fisher HiFi; it is the best bike I’ve ever owned and a natural epic racer. However, I had broke another rear triangle. I began to fear for my goals in the 2010 Wild 100.

Warranty replacements take time and I dreaded not having a race-worthy bike in time. My local bike shop, Bikes Unlimited in Lynchburg, VA, stepped up in a big way, ensuring that I had a racing rig and working with Trek/Fisher to get me a Fuel EX frame to replace my deceased and out-of-production HiFi. Jack Parker and the crew at Bikes Unlimited are my unofficial sponsors for this race, because of all they did to make sure I had a shot at my goals!

More about the Wild 100 - race format, challenges, support, etc.

Start to CP 1 – Climbing the legendary Props Run Trail
The Wild 100 starts with one of two beastly climbs, depending on where the organizers place the first Checkpoint (CP). This year CP 1 was perched near the top of Prop’s Run Trail, an IMBA epic and legendary east coast downhill run. Following ERTC owner Gil Willis’ traditional speech – much of which would be forgotten or ignored – 40 some riders eagerly grabbed the maps as Gil’s wife, Mary, handed them out. With much rustling paper we unfolded our maps and immediately racers began folding them back up, whispering, “it’s up Prop’s.”

I jumped astride my bike and pedaled out of the parking lot to tackle Prop’s Run. The trail starts out from the ERTC, weaving through the woods along the foot of the great ridge, bobbing up and down and winding its way to the old logging railroad bed that is Prop’s Run Trail. Along this winding route the leaders sped away and the chase pack jockeyed for position. Soon the grade increased and it was time to grind out an 8 mile muddy, 1,900 vertical foot climb in the misty woods of West Virginia. I passed a single speed rider and a co-ed team on the “flats” only to have them work past me once the grade grew serious. As we worked our way up, I noticed several 26″ geared hardtails passing me. Mucky trails seem to favor geared bikes, if drive trains stay functional. I took note, though and shifted into a higher gear to put the pain on the SSers.

Along the way in the mist, I knew a rider was overtaking me when I would ride over a loose rock and then moments later, hear it move again. I came to dread the sound of tires on rocks behind me. Along the climb 4 riders passed me. I did catch up to the co-ed team, as they struggled with the wet rocks that lined the dozens of drainage trenches strung out along Prop’s Run, and a single speeder from Ohio who “hate[d] this technical stuff.”

Prop’s Run is not that technical. What makes it memorable is the sheer length of its descent, and those horrid drainage dips, which turn the descent into a series of high speed, triceps-tearing push ups as the rider hits all those rocky dips at 15 miles an hour. Oh yeah, there are also the occasional side jogs where the trail leaves the old railroad bed and climbs up a bank to pass a downed tree or a mire. These detours are usually laced with angled roots and short steep pitches. It makes for a grueling climb.
Going up, my riding glasses fogged in minutes, and mud sprayed random patterns on my legs and clothes as my tires splashed through puddles and runoffs. I sucked away on my Camelbak and tried to stay in the middle ring up front. Pedaling through the pain paid off, as CP 1 appeared out of the mist, eventually. I could already smell my own stink, from sweating up that climb. One of my tactics to achieve my Top 5 goal was to minimize the time I spent at CP’s. It was easy to hang out, catching one’s breath and refilling water and looking at the map, etc., for several minutes. I pulled in, called out my number and then pulled out my map. A quick check showed that CP 2 was miles away, off of the Scenic Highway 150, nine miles south of ERTC. I stuffed my map in my reeking jersey and jumped on the bike, passing 4-6 riders who were still reading their maps and discussing options.

CP 1 to CP 2 – Crossing Gauley Mountain in a deluge
A good 1/2 mile of Prop’s Run Trail remained to be climbed before we broke out onto the gravel road. I spun away, seeing another rider checking his map. The gravel road was the place to leverage the advantage of gears, and I tried to push a tall gear. However, it felt like something was holding me back, and the map-reading rider caught me on the ride across the ridge on the gravel road. I saw from his race tag as he passed that he was also a Solo Male. I made it my goal to catch that chap. Sleeveless jersey. Number 83. I never saw him again.

Initially, I had thought I would get to CP 2 by riding down Crooked Fork trail, a fast-paced, combined double and singletrack and then cross Route 219 and loop around Gay Sharp Knob and out onto the Scenic Highway. This all would be to avoid the two horrid sections of mixed singletrack and overgrown doubletrack that were the non-paved way to cover much of the length of the mostly off-limits Scenic Highway. However, I pulled out my map while riding the gravel, and realized that the section of the Scenic Highway between Gay Sharp Knob and CP 2 was off limits. So, I aimed for the Gualey Mountain Trail, a  trail that is rideable in either direction and undulates along the mountain for five miles between Mine Road and the Scenic Highway.

Not halfway down this mixed surface trail, as I crested the climbing portion and began the gradual, 3 mile descent, the rain began. Merely calling it rain does not convey the force and frenzy of this deluge. Rain pummeled me, speckling my riding glasses lenses and blurring my vision. Water coursed down the trail wherever puddles did not form. Some of the puddles were an inch deep. Others approached axle depth.  Riding blind, saturated gloves slipping on the grips, I braced for the big one – a puddle that would grasp the front wheel and launch me over the bars.  Some of the descents I rode on feel, unable to see details like the ruts or root bars.  I thought of my camera, and my iPod and hoped they’d survive the soaking. Mud sprayed up and down my backside from the rear wheel. I slid on the seat, a cushion of muck slicking the saddle. The udder cream I’d lathered on quickly ran away with immersion, and the chafing began.

I rode out Gauley Mountain trail, seeing no one. Bursting out onto the pavement of the Scenic Highway Route 150, I ground my mud-choked chain through the gears and climbed up the road, passing two riders repairing a flat, roadside. The thick mist reduced visibility to a hundred yards. The back of my neck prickled with fear of someone speeding through the fog slamming into me without ever seeing this muddy, grayed out cyclist. I wished I had a blinkie light aboard. I hunkered down and pedaled.

At the top of the first rise I pulled off into the entrance for Red Spruce trail, the hated singletrack and doubletrack combo that organizers usually routed racers through to skip most of the pavement of the Scenic Highway. Red Spruce trail hooks back around to the Scenic Highway across the road from Red Lick North trail, and together they suck up an hour or more of the race.  As I rode into the woods, trying to eat a Clif Bar and ride simultaneously, I slipped on some downed saplings and then noticed the trail looked untouched. A map check showed that that the pink hilighter that designated permitted highway stretches was wearing off in the deluge, but did indicate I could ride to the intersection with Red Lick North trail. I battled back out of the woods, recovering a half hour or more of my life.

Back on the highway of death, I rode to Red Lick North trail, where a knot of riders huddled around their maps. The veteran advantage kicked in, and I passed them and entered the energy and momentum sapping grassy doubletrack of Red Lick North. I big ringed it down the slippery grass course, happy that they had at least brushhogged it recently. One year we had to pedal through stinging nettles the entire length of this trail.  Soon I could hear the map-readers behind me, and I kept the hammer down, eyes peeled for hidden obstacles in the wet grass. During this mad rush I experienced one of those magic mountain bike moments. Railing down the descent, riding in top gear, with riders hot on my tail, my front wheel caught the hidden edge of a rut in the little dirt ribbon buried in all that grass. My bike began to slide. I thought I would wipe out under the wheels of the pack. Instinctively, I turned into the skid, and CARVED my mountain bike. In a slicing arc my bike returned to the fall line, leaving me to cherish that Zen-bliss of one’s body knowing things one’s mind did not. What a great sensation, that momentary carving!

Suddenly, flying downhill in the mist, I sped into a grassy cul-de-sac and the trail ended.  My disc brakes groaned and yowled as I brought my speeding bike to a stop, confused. I had been here before. This trail went through! What? Behind me, my pursuers slid to halts too, amid protests and querulous queries.

The trail ended in this green cul-de-sac, choked with 5-foot high weeds. Muddy tire tracks headed into the woods right in front of where I had ground to a halt, but the trail petered out in a bike length. I immediately began to quarter, seeking the trail. Others said this was the wrong trail, and turned back. I was not going to climb that wet greensward twice in one day! (We’d be returning on it.) And, I knew the trail went through. The map clearly showed that it turned to singletrack partway down. Soon only two brothers racing as a 2 Person 100+ team and I were left. We quartered about and they shouted when they found the trail.  We were soon back on track, pitying the fools who had started back up the climb.

A quick jaunt through singletrack to a muddy, newly bulldozed woods road and back out to the scenic highway.  Then it was another blind descent through the mist to CP 2.  Here the brothers, Geoff and Matt Fusco, learned they were leading the 2 Person 100+ race, and I learned I was in 3rd for Solo Males.

“Are you cold?” Gil asked, as I refilled my bottle and mixed up some more Gatorade.

“No.”

“Well, you look cold.”

“I may look scared,” I said. “Thinking about somebody doing 70 through that fog and taking me out.”

CP 2 to CP 3 – Surviving Tea Creek Mountain

My hunger renewed by the news of my standing, I headed out on the road again, wincing at my grinding, sucking chain.  Going over the gate to the dreaded Crooked Fork, I stopped to lube my chain. I made fast friends of the Fusco bro’s by proffering chain lube, for their bikes were grinding and sticking too from all the mud.

The Fuscos soon shed me like the mud off their freshly-lubed chains, as we slogged back up that horrible trail.  I kept it in the middle ring as much as I could, but they disappeared into the distance. For a team riding such unevenly matched bikes, they rode strongly together. Geoff rode a 29′er hardtail, while Matt pushed a Trek Liquid the whole distance – a bike that he thought weighed about 31 pounds.  Good on him, I say.  I would watch later in the day as that suspension bobbed away under pedal force on a gravel road climb.

Eventually, I struggled out of the trail and back onto the Scenic Highway. Although I thought the brothers had left me far behind, I caught up to them on the highway again as we rode to the Gauley Mountain Trail again. In the woods we slipped and slid over the soaked and mud slicked wood work up to the Gauley Connector trail. This snaggle-toothed beastie runs along the swampy bottom below the ridge leading up to Tea Creek Mountain and connects Gauley Mountain Trail to the bike-eating monster, Tea Creek Mountain trail. We slogged over impossibly slick roots and through more muck holes. Ahead I heard a crash and yell above the music in my headphones. Geoff had gone down on a snot-slick bridge, ending up in the creek below. I walked some tech sections I had mastered in years past, as they were so slippery when wet.

At the intersection with the trail up to TCM trail, the brothers decided to take a detour side trip for unexplained reasons – I had dropped back in the pitfall-laden Connector Trail crossing.  Unknowingly, I sneaked in front of them for the battle up Tea Creek Mountain. When I heard voices behind me, I thought it was someone else catching up, and I pushed even harder.

The climb up Tea Creek Mountain Trail starts with some steep, narrow singletrack punctuated by several super sharp climbing switchbacks. I scrambled up this section, mixing granny gear climbing with hiking and jogging. Things were so slick that jogging was dangerous … my shoes kept slipping and I feared an ankle sprain.  After the initial climb, Tea Creek Mountain Trail pursues a more gradual grade up through the mossy woods as it approaches the crown of the mountain. I tried to push the middle ring through much of this, dreading the inevitable sound of a pursuer.

Sure enough, before I attained the crown and its legendary rock garden crest, I heard my pursuers. I managed to keep ahead of them into the scattered boulders of the rock garden. Today I did not even try to ride most of it. Wet stone and close pursuit made any mistake costly. I pushed Jack Rabbit Slim through the garden, risking a few mounts and line searches.  The only good news was that the rain quelled the hornets that dwelt among the rocks and who had tagged me the past few years.

The rock garden continues into the beginning of the notorious Tea Creek Mountain descent. This downhill is a brute. To race down its sidehill, off-camber gnarliness five-hours into your big mountain ride and following a soaking rain is to soft shoe the razor’s edge. With riders behind, I wanted to build a gap.  Papa like the DH, so I let ‘er rip.

Several minutes into the 1,500 vertical feet descent, as my front wheel washed out on a wet root, my right grip hooked the embankment and I slammed into the muddy sidehill, two thoughts flitted across my lizard brain: 1. Maybe I had exceeded my Jedi skill level. 2. Wow! Am I glad I went down to the uphill side and not the downhill. Later, talking with the Fusco brothers – who were my pursuers on Tea Creek Mountain – I learned one of them had gone down on the downhill side.

“I got going too fast, lost control in the mud on one of the turns,” Matt related. “Next thing you know, I’m headed down the side of the mountain. Luckily one of the straps on my CamelBak caught in a tree and snagged me.” That strap had spared him from a tumble down the mountain side.

My friend Phil said it best, upon hearing this story: “That’s doing too much if you are saved only by strap catching in something.”

Somewhere in that epic descent my iPod popped and went silent in the middle of David Bowie’s “Rebel, Rebel.” I thought the battery had died. I rode into Tea Creek Campground alone, tearing up the precious little flat ground at the bottom of Tea Creek Mountain. In at CP 3, I swigged Gatorade and stuffed two PB&J sandwiches down the hatch.  I was worried about getting enough nutrients to prevent cramping, as I was not taking my normal Hammer Gel Electrolyte pills.

It was only when the Fusco brothers rolled into CP 3 and began questioning a rider who was working on his flat tire, that I realized he had been one of the riders who had turned back at the cul-de-sac on Red Lick North. I had been paranoid that they had rode pavement to CP 2 when we saw them as we left it. But now I had not thought about them for awhile. Apparently the guy and his friend had rode the Scenic Highway to the base of Tea Creek Mountain trail, instead of darting into the woods for the slippery trip on Gauley Mountain Trail and the Gauley Connector. At first I didn’t really care, but then I asked them what class they were in. Solo Male. Cheaters! He knew it immediately, but he would not admit to cheating. I decided to not make a stink. Instead I resolved to stay ahead of him and his amigo. I moved over to the pump to refill the CamelBak and the bottle of Gatorade mix. While I was there I washed off my drive train.

Meanwhile two other racers came into the camp, riding Cannondales and matching outfits. I assumed they were another team, and hoped the Fusco brothers would stay ahead of them. Only later did I learn they were Solo Male and riding together.

Riding out of Tea Creek Campground, I had to stop and tighten my cleat on my SPD shoe, which had worked loose with all the abuse. And that, as they say, made all the difference …

Continued in PART 2

©2010 Big Mountain Riding

People look at me like I’m crazy when I say mountain biking is safer than road biking. That’s not just a throw-away observation. Yes, the ground hurts. Yes, rocks are hard and can be sharp. True, mountain sides are steep and singletrack can be narrow. However, trees are not moving all around you at 30-65 mph, driven by people who may or may not be paying attention. You are at the top of the food chain in the woods. Not so on the road, explains Bruce Ebert in a recent Bicycle Times article, Incivility: How Lawyers and Legislators De-Valued Your Life. Be safe out there, especially if your big mountain ride requires you to ride on some roads – your life may not be as valuable as you thought.

©2010 Big Mountain Riding

Thanks to you, Big Mountain Riding has been nominated into the voting round of the Crank Honors (Mountain Bike Category).

Based on the nominations, Crank has selected the top 5 blogs to be in for the voting in each category.  All contenders were selected by cycling blog fans and peers (that’s you!).  Thanks so much for your nominations. We made it to the top 5!  Please vote for Big Mountain Riding as the top mountain biking blog in the Crank Honors.

Voting will take place from now until June 6th …. Cast your vote at:www.cranklisted.com.

©2010 Big Mountain Riding

The Pisgah Mountain Bike Adventure Race pits riders and bikes in its two-person team format against some of the biggest mountains in the eastern U.S., against the iffy weather of spring at elevation, against the sheer numbers (miles, climbing, time bonuses, etc.) and against themselves. Formerly, and perhaps more accurately, dubbed the Pisgah Death March, this epic celebrated its 8th year in 2010. This is the story of how two intrepid riders from Virginia set out to conquer the odds in this monster race brewed and served up just outside of Asheville, NC – home to a special type of masochistic mountain bike madness.

Story and photos by Randy King

The unofficial Big Mountain Riding team – my teammate Randy Lewis (R.L.) and I – arrived at the 2010 Pisgah Mountain Bike Adventure Race (PMBAR) at 7:20 a.m. in an off and on light rain. It was my fifth PMBAR, and R.L.’s first. It was also his first epic event. Our goals were simple and prioritized: 1. Finish. 2. Finish safely. 3. Finish before dark. 4. Finish strong. 5. Finish close to the middle of the pack.

As the gray daylight gradually grew, we went through mandatory gear check and got our number tags.  Then we took down the bikes and geared up. We headed across the road to Davidson River Campground, since Pisgah Productions had sprung for only one porta-john this year (perhaps in the spirit of the general recession?). The 7:50 a.m. pre-race meeting was more calm than in the years of the passport format. [In 2009 the organizers switched to handing out a pre-marked Pisgah Ranger District map. Previously, teams had to supply their own maps and were handed a paper passport with postage stamp sized pictures of the terrain around each check point. They then had to mark off all off-limits roads on their maps pre-race.]  Our team started slowly – in our reading of the map and in getting going. When the race starts at 8 a.m., everybody has to ride the same first stretch of trail – the big climb up Black Mountain to Pressley Gap. So, many just take off and check their map at the Gap. Or, if they’re locals, they know how to get to the checkpoints, and just need to ascertain where they are, not figure out how to get there. We got going at about 8:15-8:20. We rode up the 1400-foot elevation gain Black Mountain climb, catching a few racers, including the first teams having issues (mechanical and physical).

Start to Squirrel Gap Check Point (Getting our flow on)

We climbed to more than two miles to Hickory Knob and descended to Pressley Gap.  R.L. rode in a minute later, carrying my water bottle. Not good to lose that on the first downhill. I secured it with a bungee cord. Looking over the map, I decided to go for the fire road to Buckhorn Gap versus climbing across Black Mountain on single track. We put it in the big chain ring and raced down Maxwell Cove road to the next junction. I still wasn’t sure which check point to go to first or exactly how to get there, but we headed for Buckhorn Gap and passed some more people on the forest service road climb to the gap. One guy wanted to pace line with us. I didn’t know what that meant. Then he said we were going a little fast for them. Their team was one of the ones we started to leap frog with for the rest of the day (the cast of characters in our little drama). At Buckhorn Gap, we encountered a big bunch of teams eating and sorting out where to go next.

We snacked, including some “real” food – I had half a turkey and Swiss sandwich.  I picked a route and we took off down the hill on Buckhorn Gap Trail – a trail that started out as doubletrack and narrowed to single as we descended. We hit a junction where I planned on going left on South Mills River trail, to connect with gravel fire road again. However, I pulled out the map to check and saw several teams go right on South Mills River trail. Someone said that this was the way to go, and they were local, so we changed directions. Turned out to be one of the highlights of the ride – nice, flowing singletrack for several miles followed by a technical but rideable climb up to the junction with Squirrel Gap trail. Along the way we enjoyed the flow with two other teams in front of us. However,the pace highlighted one of the weak points of single speed bikes in big mountain riding events. The lead team were two single speeders. On this descending, flowing trail, we could have been using the big chain ring to make up speed. However, the SS’ers were stuck in coasting mode. As we crossed a creek, we got in front of them for a tech climbing section. They too remained recurring cast members.

Another team (Luis Calderon / Karlos Rodriguez) that we leap-frogged all day was with us on that flowing train as well. The one rider had his iPod connected to speakers strapped on his handlebars. As we rolled up on them, he was jamming to Ludicris and trying to get a sing-along going. “Come on, everybody,” he yelled. “Sing it: ‘Roll Out. Roll Out. Roll Out.’” Team “Speaker Box” was quite vocal, and throughout the ride we were entertained by their alternating complaints and braggadocio.

Our chosen first checkpoint (CP) sat at the junction of Squirrel Gap Trail and Cantrell Creek Trail, beside the rocky crossing of Cantrell Creek. The creek ran in two channels at the crossing, with wet rocks lining both sides and a central rock shoal wetted by passing tires. I rode into it and held together for the crossing and the climb up wet rocks to where 10 teams or so were at the unmanned CP. [Yay for me ] Many other riders were not as fortunate (including my teammate), and the CP’s entertainment consisted mostly of hearing the slide of tires on wet rocks and watching riders or bike pushers go down on the wet stones.

Having attained our first CP at about 11 a.m. (approx. 3-hours into the event), we filtered water in Cantrell Creek, losing 10-minutes or so filling our CamelBaks and bottles. I do believe that going forward, I will bring only iodine pills and not a filter. A filter takes up a lot of room in the packs, weighs much more than pills and sucks up too much time. One of the reasons we kept seeing the same people all day is because of the time we spent filtering water.

“The Bugs” caught up with us at the CP. These were the two single speeders who had lead our little train on the flowing descent. Shanna Powell and Laura Goetz were dressed as a bumble bee and a red bug, complete with leotards, tutus and tights and helmet-mounted antennae. They were cheerful and repeatedly caught up with us any time we stopped for more than a few minutes to eat, filter or change a flat throughout the day.

Read more…

1st ~ Sam Koerber / Bob Koerber / 5CP / 8hr 17min.
Please note: Sam and Bob were the first finishers AND they got all 5 checkpoints. Wow.
2nd ~ Dave Simpson / Tal Ingram / 5CP / 9hr 14min.
3rd ~ Matt Rice / Ben Poss / 5CP / 9hr 23min.

Finishing team names before the rain wiped away all record!

4 ~ Ross Clark / Bruce Steinfurth / 5CP/ 9hr 48min.
5 ~ Dave Anderson / Charlie Roberts / 5CP / 9hr 57min.
6 ~ Chris Bennett / Derek Gentry / 5CP / 9hr 58min.
7 ~ Ryan Allen / Alex Ransom / 5CP / 10hr 11min
8 ~ David Cook / Yuri Eliashevsky / 5CP / 10hr 26min.
9 ~ Clay Faine / Toby Porter / 5CP / 10hr 34min.
10 ~ Brent Leister / Greg Leister / 5CP / 10hr 41min.
11 ~ Rich Dillen / Thad Hoffman / 5CP/ 11hr 14min.
12 ~ Brad Welch / Steve Bennet / 4CP / 8hr 26min.
13 ~ Rob Roberts / Michael Kanning / 5CP / 11hr 34min.
14 ~ Ryan Bell / Nathan Helms / 5CP / 12hr 6min.
15 ~ Eddie Odea / Namrita Odea / 4CP / 9hr 6min.
16 ~ Kip Clyburn / Paul Stahlschmidt / 5CP / 12hr 11 min
17 ~ Ed Moreadith / Rob Kranz / 4CP / 9hr 26min.
18 ~ Zack “H8″ Broussard / Dennis Kuntz / 4CP / 9hr 40min.
19 ~ Joe Pelton / Jonathan LeRoy / 4CP / 9hr 46min.
20 ~ Jim Stranix / David Parsons-Foresi / 4CP / 9hr 53min.
21 ~ JD Powers / Ben Swadley / 4CP / 10hr 1min.
22 ~ Bruce Dale / Innes Wright / 4CP / 10hr 6min.
23 ~ Kelly Bond / Chad Banner / 4CP / 10hr 7min.
24 ~ Kelly Klett / Jeff Dennison / 4CP / 10hr 9min.
25 ~ Eric Christian / Mike Rischitelli / 5CP / 13hr 23 min.
26 ~ Daniel Wren / Chris Young / 4CP / 10hr 40min.
27 ~ Ed Merritt / Brandon Merritt / 4CP / 10hr 48min.
28 ~ Richard Stem / Marshall Thompson / 4CP / 10hr 50min.
29 ~ Mike Brown / Ian Baldwin / 4CP / 10hr 50min.
30 ~ Luther Papenfus (solo unofficial) / 4CP / 10hr 54min
30 ~ Tom Hartenstein / Jeff Williams / 4CP / 11hr 2min.
31 ~ Patrick McMahon / Michael Bucking / 4CP / 11hr 4min.
32 ~ Ben Appleby / Bob Lambertson / 4CP / 11hr 6min.
33 ~ James Carlisle / James Johnson / 4CP / 11hr 10min.
34 ~ Cissy Fowler / Jennifer Rinderle / 4CP / 11hr 13min.
35 ~ Denise Sauerbrey / Rob Keener / 4CP / 11hr 15min.
36 ~ Richard Auerwick / Rob Gosline / 4CP / 11hr 18min.
37 ~ Camye Womble / Tim Bedard / 4CP / 11hr 26min.
38 ~ Mike Brown / Asa MArshall / 4CP / 11hr 28min.
39 ~ James Haskins / Jay Lundi / 4CP / 11hr 36min.
40 ~ Andy Etters / Mert Dunne / 4CP / 11hr 43min.
41 ~ Randy King / Randy Lewis / 4CP / 11hr 52min.
42 ~ LeAnne McCann / Jon Carmack / 4CP / 11hr 54min.
43 ~ Paul Diemer / Gordon Jenks / 4CP/ 11hr 55min.
44 ~ Luis Calderon / Karlos Rodriguez / 4CP / 12hr 2min.
45 ~ LG Porter / Erik Caldwell / 4CP / 12hr 17min.
46 ~ Shanna Powell / Laura Goetz / 4CP /12hr 22min.
47 ~ Curtis Burge / Robert Peerson / 4CP / 12hr 25min
48 ~ Cameron Frasier / Francis Corbin / 4CP / 12hr 27min.
49 ~ Rob Coulter / Rich Davis / 4CP / 12hr 34min.
50 ~ Emily Brock / Amanda Wisell / 4CP 12hr 57min.
51 ~ Beau Bethel / Clifton Schmitt / 4CP / 13hr 3 min.
52 ~ Anne Bringuier / Randal Tuttel / 4CP / 13hr 10min.
53 ~ Eric Bannan / Tim Julian / 4CP / 13hr 23min.
54 ~ Eric Gadlage / Bryon Horn / 4CP / 13hr 42min
55 ~ Samual Props / Chris Hansen / 4CP / 13hr 47 min.

Keeping in front of those one-geared wunderkinds

Eight hours into the gnarly technicality of the Pisgah Mountain Bike Adventure Race, I’m feeling battered and bounced into oblivion. My Gary Fisher HiFi boasts almost 5-inches of suspension front and back to “float” over the rocks and roots, and I have 27 gears to get me up those steep trails. Yet, inside, I’m begging for mercy. Then some dude on a single-speed bike with no suspension passes me on the next climb. Actually, that would be inaccurate. Most of those singlespeed riders passed me on the first nasty climb of the race. I’ll only see them back at the finish when they’re collecting prizes for taking most of the top spots overall.

How can a single-speeder be faster?

-Momentum: Single-speed riders rely on momentum to move quickly. Because of their one gear, restarting requires a lot of energy, and may take more time than someone with a working drive train. So SSers like to keep rolling once they’re on pace. This is even more true when paired with 29″ wheels, as many SS bikes are. On climbs, the SSer has incentive to keep the hammer down and maintain his momentum. This is easier the faster he pedals. Think of riding in your big chain ring up front. Geared riders often slow down and try to spin in an easier gear on prolonged climbs. Single-speeders will pass them on these climbs if they are rideable. “Momentum’s key for a single-speeder in other ways; keep your momentum on the rolling hills, especially the short steep ones. And truly I’m only working half the time compared to the geared guys. I work on climbs, but every where else I’m drafting off of them and recovering,” says single-speed champion Fuzzy Mylne.

-It’s not the shoes: In Michael Jordan’s heyday, Nike used to run commercials quipping “It’s gotta be the shoes.” Well, those single-speeders that are rocking their way to the podium would be really fast on geared bikes too. Additionally, riding a single-speed bike all day takes a special form of tolerance for discomfort. So does marathon racing. So the SSers are suited to the event.

-The Law of Averages: Successful single-speed riders try to maintain momentum and pace, to make their riding easier. So, if their gearing is higher than the average of your gear switching, and they push that gear to a consistent max, they will outpace you. SSers don’t lose time on shifting, they get up to speed and try to stay at speed. Better single-speed riders adjust their gearing to be as efficient as possible depending on their strengths (spinning versus stomping).

How to beat single-speeders in an epic event:

-Big Ring – Play to your advantages. One of your biggest is that large chain ring up front. Every chance you have, level trail, slight descent, downhill … run the big ring and crank it hard. Every turn you make in the big ring is an advantage over the single-speeders with their smaller gearing. To win in the battle of average speed, you have to up your average. Pedal in the big ring past the point of pain. If you need inspiration to keep going, look back and see how far back the nearest single-speeder is.

-Granny Gear - Sense a theme? On those long technical climbs, leverage your easier gears to make ground on the single-speeders. Any section that disallows a steady pace (i.e. rock gardens, tight switching climbs, roots) is where you can whip out your granny gear and flog the SSers with it. Soft ground or poor conditions are another place where you can gear down and keep pedaling while the single-speeders walk. This only makes sense if you can up your average speed over the SSers. If you’re spinning away like a mad hamster, and they’re keeping up with you on foot, then you’re not heeding our final tip on beating Single-speed riders:

-Efficiency – Learning to spin efficiently will mean you’re getting the most out of your +20 gears. Shifting at the optimal time leads to less gear grinding and chances for the dreaded chain suck. Keep your drive train in prime condition with lots of TLC. Improve your strength and style so you can push a harder gear on the climbs and save that Granny Gear for super technical and steep stuff.

Thoughts for the trail: Put in the miles, pushing bigger gears and mastering your shifting. Boost your technical skills and stop and start riding skills to take advantage of trail sections that will disrupt SSers momentum. Be ready that local single-speeders will know the trail better than you and will be ready to compensate for the momentum loss. Watch and learn from how they tackle those sections. You can apply it to your riding. Remember, we’re all part of the mountain biking culture, and we all succeed or fail together. So, if you haven’t tried one, get on a single-speed and see what it’s like. SSers, keep pushing the envelope of what we can do on one-geared cycles. I know I’ll continue to see mono-coggers on the podium at epic race events.

©2010 Big Mountain Riding

Riding with others is safer, can push you to new heights … or can look a lot like what you went to the woods to escape

Story & Photos: Randy King

For the first time in my mountain biking life I am part of a regular riding group.  Over the last year I have ridden with these guys in rain, summer’s heat, by blue light of LED’s and on a misbegotten adventure in the snow. The cast of characters shifts around one central figure, Scott, who recruits and bonds with the rest of us.

In the late ’90’s I came out for a few night group rides. However, they were things of pain and suffering, cut with only slightest companionship. So for years after most of my rides were just me and two wheels.

Yet riding with others makes sense for most big mountain riding, both for safety’s sake, and for the companionship that forms when we share a big adventure. It’s also a great way to get and stay motivated. So, how to keep group rides at their best and minimize the downsides that can spoil everything?

Ingredients for good group rides:

-camaraderie – If it ain’t fun, why do it? The best groups get along well. Or at least well enough to stick together and have some fun. In Active.com,  Active Expert Joe Decker, an ultra-endurance power athlete and renowned fitness trainer, says: “Get out of your cubicle, your car or your house and go meet other people that have a common interest just like you. You never know, you might just meet some real friends instead of the ones you find online.”

-competition – If you can’t test yourself against somebody, why do it? Friendly competition is a vital element of mountain biking. It’s a lifestyle where every yard of trail may present a new challenge. It may not matter who gets back to the parking lot first, but great energy will be spent on who can master one log or that 20-foot long rocky section. “Not only are you more motivated to get out of bed and exercise, but there’s the motivation to improve your current fitness level.” says Active Expert, Joe Decker on Active.com. “If you work out with people who are faster, stronger or fitter than you, you are probably going to get in better shape.”

-patience – Group rides are group efforts. The odds are slim of assembling more than 2-3 riders of exactly the same skill level with the same tastes in trail preference. Group rides are about compromise on both ends. The faster riders get to wait for the slower ones, and the slower ones should push themselves to ride faster than they would on their own. Downhill demons will hang out at the bottom for the mortals to descend; climbing freaks get a welcome break at the top while the lung-limited masses claw their way up. A good group adopts the Marine Corps mantra of never leaving a buddy in the field.

-organization – So it’s about compromise. That being said, somebody has to line up the dots to pull the thing off. Especially if it’s an out-of-towner. Ideally the load of logistics will get spread around. And the rest of the group should comply by being on time for rides, bringing along their own food, common repair items, and adequate clothing, safety equipment, etc. On the trail someone has to pick the route – if you’re blessed with a trail system with more than one loop. Share the load, or keep the complaints to a minimum.

-variety – shake things up a bit. Go for out-of-towners, ride the same-old loop the other direction, mix in night rides. Invite new folks. Few mountain bikers enjoy doing the same lap every time. Have somebody else lead the ride if the normal leader is feeling burnt out. We don’t ride mountain bikes because we love predictability. If you’re getting burnt out on mountain biking, than I say drive somewhere – it doesn’t have to be far – and point your knobbies down a trail you haven’t rode. It will remind you of why you love this fat-tired fad. And, if you have a strong group that likes riding together, start planning your trip to a mountain biking Mecca. When my brother and I were in Moab in 2007, we shared our campground with a big group from CO. They were a Tuesday night ride group that had grown and bonded and now made multi-day trips to places like Moab to ride together. Those folks knew about camaraderie! Watching them jump their blazing bonfire to the tune of their own guitar music made me envious of such a tight-knit riding group.

Spoilers for group rides:

-selfishness - Group rides are not about stomping the rest of the group into submission or surrender. Nor are they about being the center of attention. They are about the group and everybody having a good time. Riders who are always dragging the group along at a lung-searing pace, or those who are dragging the end of the line all the time should consider finding another group. If you’re all friends then you should ride at a compromise pace. That’s what friends do.

-unfriendliness - Nobody likes a jerk. Just because someone’s the best rider doesn’t mean they have the right to rebuff the rest of the group. These are the people who may be carrying you out of the woods if something goes wrong. Save the attitude for race day. Be friendly, get others interested in our sport. Like we learned in grade school, it takes less effort to smile than to frown.

-unsafe practices – I know, it’s an unsafe sport, so what is an “unsafe practice”? It’s relative, but riders who put others in danger don’t belong in a group ride. Danger comes in many different packages. Consistently riding beyond personal abilities, riding poorly-maintained equipment, not wearing a helmet, taking the group on trails that exceed the experience of group members, not waiting for the slow riders, bailing out without telling anybody, etc. A good group ride depends on the right people. If you’re in with the wrong folks, find yourself a new group. If you’re guilty of some the above, then now is the time to turn over a new leaf.

-poor planning – No big deal, right? And so it might be on a 1-2 hour friendly. However, it gets serious fast when somebody has a mechanical failure or breaks a bone several miles from the nearest road and nobody has any tools or a working cell phone, or has told anybody where they are or when the ride should wrap-up. When it comes to planning, the old proverb rings true: a stitch in time saves nine.

I definitely recommend riding with others as part of your time on two wheels. When you’re out with a bunch of amigos, remember to have fun and be safe. Patience, organization and variety are keys to making that happen. Happy Trails!

Group rides in Lynchburg, VA: 5:30 p.m. Tuesday @ Winngate Inn on Candler’s Mountain Road. Park in the lot to the right of the entrance. Usually a 2-2.5 hour ride, medium pace.

Group rides in Roanoke, VA: Roanoke Outside

©2010 Big Mountain Riding

Story & Photos: Randy King

Winter is not a wonderland for most mountain bikers. The altitudes we love are prone to snow and wicked winds. Bicycles meet their match in crusty snow or on icy rocks. Fortunately, winter doesn’t have to mean we all transform into pudgy sofa pilots or pasty-skinned gym rats. Here are five activities that will keep your trail riding skills sharp when the weather turns cold and wet:

Alpine skiing – Hones your skills through speed, line selection, and leg strength. A day on the boards will work out your quads and sharpen your eyes for reading terrain. The speeds involved (up to and over 60 mph) exceed those of downhill mountain biking, and your friendly terrain park will give you more chances for air than any mountain bike trail. A true carved turn will haunt you with its beauty and flow. Tips: Spring for a lesson or two. It is worth it. If you fall for the sport, used equipment can help you save big. Downside: expensive both in equipment and pay per play.

Cross-country skiing – Builds muscle, endurance and cardio strength. Did you see the Nordic ski competitions at the Olympics? This ain’t your granddad’s way of getting to the one-room schoolhouse. Pain lovers can build phenomenal strength and endurance on the skinny’s. Buy a pair of skis and the special boots and find a snowy forest service road or field. You’re making the rules. No lift lines, no lift tickets, and you have to make it up every hill under your own power. Or get involved in local races if you need the competition. Tips: Packed down trails are easier for the beginner. The buddy system can save you (0r at least your toes) if something goes wrong far from home. Downside: Only practical where the snow stays on the ground for awhile, and it ain’t as glamorous [or easy] as it looks

Cyclocross – To paraphrase Jack Nicholson’s Dr. Buddy Rydell in the Adam Sandler masterpiece Anger Management: In Europe as many as a hundred men often race their skinny-tired bikes through the winter woods in a cyclocross event. Most of us would voice Sandler’s sentiment verbatim: “That’s why I’m proud to be an American.” However, this masochistic sport will get you outdoors on a bike in winter, and will force you to consider traction and bike carrying in a new light. Not for the faint of lung or legs. Tips: You can get the flavor of the sport using your current ride by racing a Mountain Cross event, or see if a cyclocross event will let your compete on your mountain bike. Downside: Hard to find local events, may mean buying another special-purpose bike.

Snowshoeing – Like XC skiing, snowshoeing is easy enough to learn. A pair of big feet, some snow and you’re on your way. You push yourself as hard as you want. If you live in areas with deep snow, a pair of snowshoes will open up a whole world of exploration. A great way to seek out solitude. I’ll never forget ’shoeing down a gentle ridgeline atop two-feet of drifted powder, in the silence of a snowy day on a side trail. What a peaceful sensation. Downside: Need sufficient snow to make it worth the effort. ‘Shoes take up a lot of storage space.

Winter biking – When all else fails, get on your bike and ride. The roads are cleared first, so you can risk your life and limbs road riding on narrow roads. Or you can try to make your way on your local trails. Your success will depend a lot on the type of snow that covers your trails. Studded tires and tire chains may help with forward momentum and turning, but it’s not going to feel like the same thing as flowing a nice packed single track trail. Downside: wear and tear on your drive train, hard on you.

However you chose to do it, just do it. Get outdoors and stay active. You’ll be glad you did when you get back on the trails and begin prepping for the season or your next big adventure.

© 2010 Big Mountain Riding