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.

Gathering in the dawn's early light, pre-race for the 2010 PMBAR

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)

It's hustle and flow wherever you can in the epic PMBAR

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.

Mid-creek mishaps entertained racers at the Squirrel Gap CP

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.

"The Bugs," a Singlespeed team that rocked all day long

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.

Squirrel Gap Check Point to Bradley Creek Check Point (An uneventful crossing)

Leaving the CP, we worked our way uphill along the flanks of Laurel and Poundingstone mountains. We caught up to another of our “friends” at the crest of the mountain. This was co-ed team whose leader – the guy – kept leaving his teammate far behind on every climb. He would wait for her – sometimes for 20-minutes or so – only at the top of the climbs or right before the CP. She was cheerful throughout the day, riding alone. However they clearly violated the spirit of the event (and the rules, which say that teammates must remain within shouting distance of each other).

Chilling with the famous and popular Bradley Creek Check Point host, Mark

As we turned our wheels downhill on Poundingstone Mountain, we dropped down along Laurel Creek to Bradley Creek and our next CP. Laurel Creek trail provided some entertaining switchbacks, water bars and proved aptly named. In some sections, riding crop-like Laurel branches choked the trail and thwapped our knuckles, arms and faces as we tried to see the trail through their shiny, thick leaves. We had to follow the orange blazes here, because offshoot trails ran in all directions along the creek. At the bottom we crossed Bradley Creek’s wide and rocky flow and made our way up into a field to our second CP. This was our deepest fording, and very mild by Pisgah standards. In years past I have crossed creeks going on three-feet deep. Here, the water didn’t exceed 18-inches. One could probably have rode across.

We checked into our second CP around 12:30 p.m. At the Bradley Creek  CP we met up with our amigos again, and took pictures with the unsuspecting CP host, whom I had declared a ‘popular guy’. He was quite surprised when The Bugs wanted a photo with him. One of the riders, Mr. Leave-Her-Behind, related a story from Pisgah Productions other race, the Pisgah 36 (basically two consecutive days of PMBAR distances and elevation gain spiced with random challenges and time cut-offs – formerly and more accurately called The Most Horrible Thing Ever). He said teams had to shotgun three Pabst Blue Ribbon beers at Bradley Creek CP for the Pisgah 36.

Bradley Creek Check Point to Spencer Gap Trail Check Point (Hammer Time)

A moment to celebrate - attaining our first CP

Leaving Bradley Creek, we started up a prolonged fire road climb to Yellow Gap and Forest Service Road (FSR) 1206. “Hey, are you locking out your suspension on these climbs?” R.L. asked. I was not. How many different adjustments on my Fox suspension? Every climb from then on, I locked out the fork and the shock. It really conserved my energy. We climbed from 2450 feet to 3200 feet elevation in about 3 miles or so. Once again we shed teams on the climb like a dog after a hard winter, catching the last of five or so teams as we approached the gate at Yellow Gap. On FSR 1206, we faced a high speed gravel road descent and our first road open to vehicular traffic. We dropped down the sweeping switchbacks, riding at each one’s personal limits for risk tolerance. One tire slide out would peel off flesh in massive road rash. FSR 1206 took us right through our campground, North Mills River Recreation Area. We filled water at the campground, glad for the time-saving faucets. Going out of the campground, we faced a paved and gravel road climb up Wash Creek Road to the next CP.

This proved our strongest leg. We pushed tall gears on the climb wherever the road bed eased its grade, and we passed about ten teams on the climb to the CP at the junction of FSR 5000 and Spencer Gap Trail. I knew I was pushing a tall gear, but at one time I was surprised to look down and see I was in the big chain ring up front. All along the climb we met teams flying down the hill at high speeds. Starting out on the paved final section before the gate, we would hear the singing tires of the descenders before they hove into sight, and the air smelt of hot brakes. We attained the CP faster and easier than I thought we would. I almost missed it, as it was off to the side on a gated-off road, and almost hidden by trees. I looked up that side road to see if it had a lot of tire tracks, and saw the flicker of colored banners. The CP volunteer here had planned for a long day, and was close to the road so he could easily provide for his comforts. Cigar smoke drifted around the little open-sided tent, and a cooler held his cold beverages of choice. After checking in around 2:45 p.m., we only spent about five minutes or less at this CP.

Spencer Gap Check Point to Turkey Springs Gap Check Point (Moments of doubt and pain)

Between us and the next CP were two gravel road descents and two monster climbs. We put the bikes into the big chain rings and took off down the hill, riding into all of the teams we had passed. One poor chap was fighting off leg cramps within 200-yards of the Spencer Gap Trail CP. I took the descent slower than I thought I would, hanging with R.L. Still, I almost became the new hood ornament for a Ford F-250 climbing up Wash Creek Road. The driver voiced to me my sentiments toward him as we passed each other on the narrow gravel road. Wash Creek falls down the mountain right beside the road, and an occasional glance in that direction on the climb and descent revealed the creek to be very scenic and clear, with primitive campgrounds scattered along its banks. That’s one of the downsides to going to a great place like Pisgah National Forest for a competitive event versus a ride – you don’t have the time or the excess energy to enjoy the scenery or the extras. On the descent of Wash Creek Road I also saw a big fallen tree that had been modified for a long log ride some five feet off the ground. No time!

Looking at my watch and seeing how much of a gap we had opened on some of our leap-froggers (including the Pace Liners) with our strong climb, I began to dream aspirational fantasies like finishing by 6 p.m. – in time for the raffle drawing of the Industry 9 wheels, and a seemingly nice round number for a finishing time. I even floated the fantasy of going for all five CP’s. However, as we zoomed down the final stretch of Wash Creek Road – paved and closed to traffic – R.L. said he needed to stop in at the restroom in the campground. We both used the restroom there, refilled water at the spigots and ate. We lost about 20 minutes at North Mills River Campground on our second stop there. As R.L. wolfed down a peanut butter bagel at the water spigot, team Speaker Box rolled through and headed up FSR 1206. “Ain’t nobody that can descend gravel roads like I can,” hollered the following member of their team as they rolled past. “I’m the ____ at gravel downhills!”

Leaving the campground on FSR 1206, we faced one of the day’s biggest climbs, the daunting gravel road ascent back to Yellow Gap. Freshly fed, buoyed by our killer leg to Spencer Gap Trail, and feeling better after the bio break, we targeted a few of the teams that had just passed us at our campground stop. Unfortunately for them, team Speaker Box didn’t like gravel road climbs as much as descents. We caught them on the climb up FSR 1206, as well as another team. We were also passed by a team putting down a very motivated pace. From their speed and hunkered down look I had to ask if they were going for all five. “Yep.” they responded, and left me in the pale gray dust of the gravel road.

Attaining Yellow Gap, we snacked and watched as the two teams we had passed on the climb struggled up to the gap. The team dynamic really comes into play on big challenges. The two teams we passed were quite unevenly matched on the climb. The lead rider of the second team we caught was climbing strong, while his teammate was standing still when we passed him, taking a breather beside the gravel road. I have been in their shoes. The first two years that I  tackled the Pisgah Mountain Bike Adventure Race, my teammate Darren Wood was a much stronger climber than I. I remember struggling just to grind granny gear up the FSR 1206 climb to Yellow Gap. The stronger team member has to balance his own riding style with spending some of their extra energy on motivating their teammate and getting them to push their personal limits. Meanwhile, teams like the one that passed me on the climb on their way to all five CP’s operate like a well-oiled machine. Whether that’s because of individual drive, or because of familiarity with each other, I don’t know. However, they were only a bike distance or two apart on that climb, and moving well. While I have become a much stronger rider, and now lead the climbing for the team, I am still learning the team dynamic, and finding the right mix of drill sergeant, motivational speaker and friend.

Lingering only briefly at Yellow Gap, we pedaled off down the other side of the gap on FSR 1206. We had made the choice to go to the base of Pilot Rock via 1206, and hike-a-bike up to the next CP on Pilot Rock Trail, then turn around and descend that tech-rider’s dream. At Yellow Gap we could have turned right onto Laurel Mountain Trail, a ridge line singletrack trail leading up to Turkey Spring Gap. However, I had memories from a past PMBAR of an interminable trail that dropped and climbed over and over again and seemed to never end. My memories of Pilot Rock Trail were from descending it that same PMBAR. I remembered it as a mile or so of very technical, rocky trail. Better to bite the bullet and hike-a-bike for a little than to spend hours on singletrack, I thought. So did many others. This may have been a mistake.

PMBAR racers have to carry all their own tools and repair items

Once FSR 1206 started to climb again, R.L. had a flat in his front tire, and we stopped roadside to change it. Sure enough, our leap-frogging friends began to overtake us. Mr. Leave-Her-Behind had this cheerful observation about our situation: “It’s all good, you know. Get’s you to slow down and enjoy the ride.” He then spun off into whatever oblivion he slipped into as he left his teammate behind on another climb. We got the new tube in place and pumped up as team Speaker Box passed us.

Entering Pilot Rock Trail, things got bad quickly. We crossed a stream on foot and tackled the first climbing pitch. Mr. Leave-Her-Behind and I were able to out distance our teammates and team Speaker Box in short order as we granny-geared it through the mildly technical early part of the climb. I stopped for R.L. at the junction with the Pilot Rock Base Trail, and did not see Mr. LHB until the crest of the trail, some 40-minutes later. We continued to hike our bikes up through rock gardens and steep, rutted trail. Pilot Rock Trail turned out to be 2.5 miles of all climb, not the mile or so I had remembered. I had a flat on my front tire – very odd considering how little riding I was doing at the time. R.L. had the pump, so I pushed my bike to the crest, walking some rideable sections, so that I could get the tire off before R.L. came up.

A rare break to enjoy the views on Pilot Rock

Riders coming down frequently forced us hikers off the trail. One guy had a pep talk for us climbers. “We came over Laurel Mountain Trail. I just couldn’t face this horrible climb up Pilot Rock. It’s just such a morale crusher.” He thought it was about the same time-wise, coming over Laurel Mountain Trail. Thanks, buddy!

At the crest I got the bad news from Mr. Leave-Her-Behind. The CP was not at the crest. No, he told me cheerily. “It’s about a quarter mile downhill from here.” He must have waited for his teammate for more than 20-minutes, atop the ridge. R.L. and his teammate rode up and I pumped up the new tube while Team We Ride Apart descended to the CP. The insects were atrocious and aggressive atop the ridge, and I was bitten multiple times while I struggled with the tube change. Team Speaker Box’s lead rider came up while we finished inflating the tube.

“I was hoping a bear would come out of the woods and kill me,” he said of the Pilot Rock Trail climb. He had to wait for his teammate now. R.L. and I descended to our final CP, meeting our friends of team We Ride Apart coming back out. She was dreading the descent. “Yeah, it will be O.K.,” he drawled. “Once you get going, just let off the brakes and let it happen.” Uh, huh. Riders who don’t like descending are not known for “just letting off the brakes.”

We rode into the Turkey Springs Gap CP at about 5:30 p.m. with a storm building ominously off to the west – hence the insect frenzy.  “Where ya’ll going next?” asked the CP host.

“We’re headed home.” I said. I just wanted to get out of there and get back to base. The fun was over, and it was now a race against the dark. I was not looking forward to the descent of Pilot Rock Trail. Specifically one rock garden. I hoped I would have a safe dismount when I did run out of roll in the rocks.

Turkey Springs Gap Check Point to Finish Line (Get ‘r done)

Pilot Rock Trail is a tech rider's delight on the descent

It was time to finish the thing. We hiked our bikes back up to the ridge, and then pointed the front wheels downhill. Now it became clear why Pilot Rock Trail had seemed so short in my memory. Going down only took 20-minutes or so. We caught up with team We Ride Apart at the stream crossing at the bottom. However, we had to refill water, and we filtered right there at Bradley Creek. This meant that we lost more time. The Bugs came out of the woods and started off up the climb, as did team Speaker Box. Water filtered and 10-15 minutes lost, we started off on FSR 1206 again. I had debated about taking Buckhorn Gap Trail in, or riding further up FSR 1206 to 276 to Club Gap Trail. However, shortly after we got onto Buckhorn Gap Trail, I remembered it from a past PMBAR, and remembered how easy it was. Going for 276 would have been a bad mistake!

We raced against the darkness gathering under the trees. The final descent of Black Mountain Trail would be hairy in low light, and I did not want to stop and put on lights. I middle chain ringed much of the climb to Buckhorn Gap. Onto the gravel fire road, it was big ring time. We caught The Bugs on the climb. Going down the gravel, I reeled in team Speaker Box and another team, Paul Diemer / Gordon Jenks. I picked up the most mud of the entire race on that descent, plowing through a couple of wet spots in my haste. At the junction with Maxwell Cove I waited for R.L. and changed to clear lenses in my glasses. Team Speaker Box, who had been consulting their map in fear of missing the turn-off – a healthy fear – caught up, as did the other team we had passed. R.L. came alongside and we started our final climb of the PMBAR 2010. We reeled in team Speaker Box, now fallen silent and grim as they ground away at yet another gravel climb. Attaining Pressley Gap, we encountered a group of adventure racers or some such, who were gathered in the dusk and asking us about how long we’d be out there and how many more were behind us.

Filtering vs. iodine? Filtering takes a lot of time

Onto singletrack, we pushed our bikes up to Hickory Knob and caught up to another co-ed team and the guys I had passed on the previous gravel road descent. I waited at the top, eager for R.L. to catch up so we could light up that final downhill. I wanted to ask the co-ed team (LeAnne McCann / Jon Carmack) if they’d let us in front, but R.L. was still behind, and I couldn’t ask them to wait for him. Once he crested Hickory Knob we started down Black Mountain. I had a lot of energy and the pressing desire to get home, so I put on the afterburner.

I quickly caught up to the co-ed team, who were riding conservatively. I rode close behind them without crowding. However the guy, who was trailing, began to get nervous and skid a bit in corners. His partner yelled back, asking why he was skidding. “”Cause there is a guy right behind me,” he replied.

“We should let him buy if you’re riding beyond your control,” she hollered.”Ask him if he wants by.”

“You want by?”

“If that’s cool with you,” I said.

“He said ‘if that’s cool with you.’”

“Let him by.”

She was not happy, but they let me by. R.L., descending a minute or two behind me, caught up to them when the guy flatted. It proved to be a bit much for team morale. R.L. reported that they were yelling at each other up and down the hill when he rode past and delivered the bad news about her teammate’s flat.

I waited for R.L. at the last creek crossing, which offered three routes across. In the middle was a two log bridge with a hand rail on one side only and no deck. To the left was a steep U-out that needed some good momentum to ford. On the right someone had built a gap jump kicker. That one would require moxie, mi amigos. Things were tight in that area, and the trail came around a switchback shortly before the crossing. More power to the leapers who cleared that jump. R.L. swept the switchback and went for the U-out. What chutzpah!

Crossing the creek, we were on the victory lap. We dropped down the remaining singletrack to the junction with the doubletrack run out. We skated into the finish line at 7:52 p.m., two minutes after team We Ride Apart, who were snarled in a random gear check (the only members of our leap-frogging friends that we had not caught). We had made it before dark, and before the 12-hour mark. And we could only marvel and admire the Koerbers, who won the race by reaching all five CP’s and still finishing first, at 4:17 p.m. Within ten minutes of our finish the rain that had been building to the west all afternoon arrived, and we moved under the tents with our vegan burritos provided by Pisgah Productions. We wolfed down two, grabbed another two and headed for the car. Time to get out of those stinking clothes, and to celebrate our achievements that first day in May, 2010.

After the Finish Line

Teamwork required - The duo format of the PMBAR means team dynamics play a vital role

Team Big Mountain Riding had ridden approximately 65-miles, climbed more than 9,000-feet, and put in about 10-hours of ride time after subtracting for filtering water, bio breaks, map reading, etc. We met our goals of finishing, finishing safely, and finishing before dark. I felt I finished strong with plenty more remaining in the tank. R.L. had finished his first epic and finished it without having a moment of complete doubt and pain. He had not hit rock bottom; he had rode strong. We also met my goal of setting a personal best, both in time and in placement. We came in about 15-minutes earlier than I had ever done. And we placed 41st out of 75 starting teams.  20 teams were unable to finish the race. Despite the clear expectation-setting done by Eric and the Pisgah Productions crew – the race’s tag line is “Crushing Souls Since 2003″ – people continue to meet their match at the PMBAR. An epic event like this does have its share of mechanical and physical mishaps and meltdowns. All in all though, what a challenge. What an Adventure!

© 2010 Big Mountain Riding

Bomber!

Training Exercise #1 – 40-minute ride time at Blackwater Creek. Orthodox Church, Creekside Trail to bikeway, Sticks ‘n’ Stones, back out on Creekside Trail. Off day, bouncing all around on obstacles.

Training Exercise #2 – 1-hour ride time at Candler’s / Liberty Mountain. Saturday Group Ride, Blind Faith, A Trail Too Far, Lasso, lower Lake Trail, Perimeter to Raptor Run to Bald Spot, Peak-to-Peak to Five Points, out on Lower Dam. A day of firsts – First time getting the big log crossing on lower Lake Trail, and first time riding the dam from the downhill side.

Training Exercise #3 – 2-hour ride time, +2,200 feet altitude gain in 12-miles. Sunday Group Ride at Candler’s / Liberty Mountain. Lake Trail to Perimeter to the fire road leading up to Power Line. Power Line Loop rocky DH, Horton’s Loop to Oak’s Way, right on Split Decision to the skills area, fire road to Logo Rd. Alternate Flight Pattern to Psycle Pathe, to Racoon Alley to Perimeter back to Camp Hydaway. Out on A Trail Too Far. Firsts – railing the big log ride on ATTF from the lower side, getting the final climb on ATTF, including the final pitch with the log.

Training Exercise #4 - 2.5-hour rambling small group ride, lots of exploration and putzing about in the clear cut area. Upper Dam to Luge Trail. Luge climb to Peak-to-Peak to Horton’s Loop. Down the big sets of switch backs – had brake problems. Aargh! Shredded the little spring clip that holds the pads in. Or doesn’t. When I finally broke the clip, the pads stayed in and worked fine. All of Hortons, back to Five Points. Then, DH trail, back up on the climb, up Powerline fire road side, middle ringed it the whole way up that steepy as a challenge. Rode out into the clear cut on the fire road descent. Hit Perimeter for a bit, then headed off over logging roads. Meandered through the clear cut, finding impossibly steep climbs and rough stuff. Back up to the top of Powerline hill, down the fireroad, over on Flames Rd., cut across country to Split Fork road. Back to the Perimeter at the power line crossing.

Training Exercise #5 - 1.25-hour ride time, Tuesday night group ride at Candler’s / Liberty Mountain. Lower Dam to Five Points. Peak-to-Peak climb, to Playground. Playground DH to Horton’s Loop descent. Oak’s Way to Perimeter Loop, turned right, Perimeter to Camp Hydaway. Lake trail around the lake to Lasso, bridge ride on Lasso – a first for Chris, A Trail Too Far with the new and repaired bridges. Had a bit of a challenge with the new skinny to wide contraption, but got it. Out via Candler’s Mt. road and Candler’s Climb. Firsts: Riding the Dam coming from the parking lot.

Training Exercise #6 – 10 lap swim at Lynchburg’s Jamerson YMCA = 500 yards.

Training Exercise #7 – 1 km swim at Lynchburg’s Downtown YMCA.

Training Exercise #8 - 4-mile solo skills ride on A Trail Too Far and Lasso. Practicing my elevated feature work and flow. Videoed some tutorial stuff for elevated features riding. Hope to create a skills video. Modified the uphill entry to the new bridge on ATTF, which I’ve dubbed “EZ Doz It,” because it is best done casually and without getting too aggro.

Training Exercise #9 - 11.3 mile solo ride on a modified perimeter loop ride. 1-hour 50-minutes, brisk pace in the hot sun. Lower Dam out to Five Points, DH trail to perimeter, to the Power line crossing, then off perimeter, on Split Fork Rd to Flames Rd. To Clear Cut Rd., up the climb to Power line hill and a tearing big-ring descent through the clear cut all the way back to the perimeter loop. Continued on perimeter, came out on Lake Trail, riding the off-camber log there from the lower side for the first time. Slipped a cog on the final climb and almost put my bars through my ribs. Came into the parking lot out of water and with an almost flat rear tire. But I made my goal of sub two hours.

Training Exercise #10 – Swam 20 laps in 25-minutes at Lynchburg’s Jamerson YMCA = 1000-yards.

Training Exercise #11 – Swam 20 laps in 20-minutes at Lynchburg’s Jamerson YMCA = 1000-yards.

Training Exercise #12 – Saturday Group Ride at Candler’s / Liberty Mountain trails. 2.5-hours ride time, I had 11.7 miles on my GPS. Scott measured 15+ miles on his cycl0-computer. Struggled with mechanical problems – mine revolved around my Crank Bro’s cleats. Firsts – Made the Dam ride on a roll through from the South. Swung wide, dropped into the fall line next to the tree, bounced around the roots a bit, only straightened it all out once I was out on the thing. Rode across. E-Z. Firsts – Made the final switchback coming back Lower Dam Trail to the parking lot. One time out of six or so, but it was a go.

Training Exercise #13 – Sunday solo in the ‘hood. Wind sprints on the hill by the Y. 4.2 miles of up the 50-foot vertical gain climb and back. Did it in leap frog fashion, sprinting up a 1/3 of the way, back down, sprint 2/3 of the way, back down, sprint the whole way. Good work out, though boring.

Don't let 'em tell ya it don't hurt!

Training Exercise #14 - Solo on Candler’s / Liberty Mountain trail system. 13.4 miles via an extended version of the Perimeter Trail, reversed – starting with Candler’s Climb and down Lake Trail, back up to the top of A Trail Too Far, all the way down and over to Camp Hyde-away lake to pick up the Perimeter. What a tough ride. Bit it on the big log ride on A Trail Too Far. Freaked out on the next bridge. Then, on the cut-across on Split Forks Rd, I rode through a limb and tore the derailleur off my bike. Luckily I had a spare hanger along. Glad when this one was over!

Training Exercise #15 – Group ride on Candler’s / Liberty Mountain. Fast-paced reverse perimeter extended. Hit the bridges from Lake Trail to Lasso, only missing the skinny on ATTF. Put the hammer down for the last bit, racing gravel road against singletrack back to the parking lot from the end of Dead End Rd.

Training Exercise #16 -Friday solo on Candler’s / Liberty Mountain. Rode till I had heat exhaustion. An even more extended Perimeter loop, with the Powerline Loop and one of Split Decision’s climbs thrown in for good measure. Rode till I was ready to drop.

Training Exercise #17 – Sherando Lake State Park with my race partner, Randy Lewis. Despite a few mechanical issues (chain break and flat tire), and Torrey Ridge trail being even rougher than I had remembered it, we made it through 20 some miles. Don’t consider it a good sign that we were both at the end of the tank when we got back to the truck for a late lunch. The Mills Creek trail with its huge climbing switchbacks put a nail in our coffin. Went over the bars in the big rock garden, but landed on a soft spot.

Training Exercise #18 – Solo frontside ride on Candler’s / Liberty Mountain. Stuck to the front side, riding Upper Dam out to 5 points, DH trail to Boblsed up to 5 points again and then the Powerline Loop. Climbed Peak-to-Peak all the way over two peaks to Monorail Trail, and then out on Lower Dam.

Higgedly Piggedly but rubber side down. Yee-ha!

Training Exercise #19 – Solo hill climb up Candler’s Climb from Wingate Inn to the ATV trail to the powerline to top of the FAA tower hill, then down to Lake Trail via rogue trails and climbing Lake Trail back to Snowflex. Met up with Scott. Rode casually all over the mountain, hitting Lake Trail again, Lasso, to ATTF, branched off on a rogue trail or two and looped back to Lasso. Then up past Hydaway Lake and up that hill to the old jeep trail coming down the back of the Snowflex mountain. Over to Racoon Alley and up the new, soft climb to the fire road. Split Decision to Rogue’s Gallery and up past Horton’s Loop to 5 points. Lower Dam out to the parking lot.

Training Exercise #20 – 15 laps in the Jamerson YMCA’s pool. 750 yards.

Training Exercise #21 - 1-hour solo ride at Lynchburg’s Peaks View Park. Enjoyed riding the newly cleared (love trail gnomes!) trails at this fun, tight and twisty park. Nice small jumps on Squeeze Trail. Still can’t get the big log ride. Doh!

Training Exercise #22 – 3-hour ride with Randy Lewis, my team mate for the Pisgah Mountain Bike Adventure Race. Rode the 2008 Assault on Liberty Mountain race course at a moderate pace. Humid and slick conditions. Wore out my rear break pads. Time to mend and tune the bike, pack up and get ready for the big ride. It’s on like Donkey Kong!

© 2010 Big Mountain Riding

"They's folks as ain't come back from them hills, sonny."- From ride 23 'n 23

I haven’t been on my bike in a week and a half. I’m taking some time off following December 30. That’s when I rode home in the light of the full moon, finishing off the 30 ‘n 30 Challenge. The next day we hosed off my brother-in-law’s bike and gave it the TLC it had long needed. The day after that I arrived back in Virginia, to freezing temps and snow on the shaded side of everything.

Happy cows come from California

The Big Mountain Riding 30 ‘n 30 Challenge threw down the gauntlet for 30 rides of at least 30-minutes in 30 days. Unfortunately, the challenge started on Nov. 30. I pedaled in the snow; I pedaled in freezing rain. I pedaled in the dark and against the wind. I pedaled on Christmas Eve and Christmas. I pedaled on opposite sides of the country, in six trail systems and two neighborhoods. By traveling to California to see family for Christmas, I dodged the biggest snow in 10-years at home. I rode with my 50-something friends, I rode with my 12-year old nephew; I rode a lot by myself. Animals encountered included deer, rabbits, turkeys, buzzards, hawks, owls, cows and coyotes. I rode pavement, sidewalks, gravel roads, drainage ditches, doubletrack, singletrack, cow trails and cross country. I broke a few regulations along the way, and alarmed a few cows. Damages incurred included a new fork for my bike Jack Rabbit Slim, brakes for my brother-in-law’s bike, poison oak and a head cold for me.

In the 30-days, I rode +/- 150 miles and put in a work week on the bike, logging 39-hours in close proximity to my trusty steeds. Among my California relatives I’m the guy who rides bikes, and this holiday season solidified that stereotype.

Moments I will remember include: catching a coyote on his way home from a night of naughtiness in Hayward, CA’s Garin Park, railing the teeter-totter at Danville, VA’s Anglers Ridge, taking my nephew on his first mountain bike ride, encountering a red-tail hawk on the hillside at Lynchburg’s Blackwater Creek, the eye-watering full-speed doubletrack descent into Garin Park from Bailey Ranch Road, soldiering through the ice rain at Candler’s Mountain at dusk, the final ride home with my moon shadow stretching behind me like the 30 ‘n 30 challenge.

"Some of dem trails down in der woods is's slick as snot." - From ride 17 'n 17

This challenge provided a hearty serving of both learning and self-awareness.

1. It takes time and willpower to ride every day. Sounds obvious, but as the daylight bleeds away around 5 p.m. in December, procrastinators will run out of time. And time aside, you’ve got to push yourself to go out and ride. Nike has it right. Just do it.

2. Bikes are beautiful. What an instrument for speed and harmony. It’s an extension of your body, but not part of you.  And on a sweeping curve of a narrow trail through the woods … what could provide more feeling of flow?

3. We’re trashing our planet – even if we aren’t killing it. Ironically – given that I was only able to access these hills for 30-minute sound bites because of all the roads and cars – I was saddened by all the garbage and scars we leave on this land. Roads reaching into every solitary place, litter lining even the smallest of foot paths. We are creatures of destruction.

4. Mountain bikers live on variety, so vary your rides. Riding every day means some duplication. However, most of us would quickly lose interest if we continually had to ride the same trail in the same conditions. Seasons change, leaves and trees fall, rain makes mud, sun makes dust. All this and so much more means that even the same trail differs on different days. I sought out various trail systems and different routes, yet I wish I would have ridden even more places, like VA’s Sherando Lake SP and CA’s Lake Chabot RP.

5. Take care of yourself and your stuff to extend the miles. One of the biggest lessons of the challenge was when we looked up the manual online and took apart the Manitou Axel fork on my brother-in-law’s bike. With a few hours of time and a $10 bottle of fork oil, we revived that fork and saved a couple hundred bucks. A little more frequent cleaning and more lubing can cut down on those costly repair bills. In the same way, stretching, eating right and cross training means more and more enjoyable miles. This was brought home on my first day in Garin Park after a year of eating better, more exercise and more time on the bike. I immediately noticed the increase in skill and power.

Now that the 30 ‘n 30 Challenge is complete, I am already thinking of the next challenge. Initially, I had thought of just letting the 30 ‘n 30 roll into the 365 ‘n 365. However, I chickened out and am looking for something different. Hmm. Ideas anyone?

"Must think it ain't hard enough as is, 'cause they done built a bunch of crap in the woods." From Ride 13 'n 13

© Big Mountain Riding

Let’s go riding way out west – Getting in some of the season’s last rides at Spokane’s Beacon Hill, Riverside Park and Mount Spokane trails

Story: Randy King

Photos: Randy King & Doug King

Some highlights of the Spokane riding scene, from IMBA:

• Four ski resorts offering mountain biking within an hour
• Mt. Spokane State Park (the largest state park in Washington), offers 90-miles of bike trails and embraces the downhill riding trend.
• Riverside State Park (the second largest state park in Washington), offers miles of beginner and intermediate trails.
• Camp Sekani City Park (Beacon Hill) has a network of intermediate and advanced cross-country, freeride and downhill trails.

Airing it out on Spokane's Beacon Hill

Everything’s bigger out west, you know. Well, that’s all good theoretically, except it’s a little too real as I nose the wheel of my all mountain bike onto a ladder bridge over a gap big enough to swallow me – bike and all. That’s when I remember how close I am to the birthplace of gut-check features – British Columbia – and how far away I am from my familiar Appalachian terra firma. Aw, shucks. Just roll it! Or not.

While visiting my brother, he and I fit in very different rides on three of Spokane’s trail systems: Free riding lite at Beacon Hill, cross country at Riverside, and shuttled downhilling at Mount Spokane.

This Beacon Hill feature proved sketchy on narrow tires - from fttrc.org

Beacon Hill Recreation Area spreads across several slopes on the ridgeline North of the Spokane River, and east of Market St. The area features a warren of trails for riders of all skill levels and persuasions. Trails range from sandy jeep roads to cross-country singletrack, to a downhill race course and features / drops that haul out your inner coward screaming into the daylight.

The Beacon Hill Recreation Area is a work of love fueled by volunteers from the Fat Tire Trail Riders Club and the Beacon Hill Trails project, with generous support from area agencies. Some of the trails meander over the hillside, creating many options (and grades) for descending or climbing. Others are clearly more hell-bent, roiling over rock outcroppings and taking the rider up in the air. Certain features soured my stomach: a narrow wooden creation stood out  in the sky like a dock left high and dry at low tide. It ended abruptly, with the drop zone 10 – 12-feet below not visible until your front tire got dangerously close to the steep entry ramp.

Attempting some narrow bridge work, Beacon Hill

Still, the park offers variety, as evidenced by the bikes and riders we encountered. Our All Mountain rigs fell somewhere in the middle. We saw a family out on their hard tail ATB bikes on the XC trails and a pick-up truck full of Oshkosh B’ Gosh clad, full-facers unloading dual-crowned coil-sprung gravity sleds, as well as all-mountain bikes.

We parked at the Boulder Beach trail head (see directions below) and worked our way uphill to one of the the high points along the ridge. Our vantage point allowed us to test out our karma and mojo on a few small jumps and a steep ramp with a blind entrance. Once we played around a bit, we worked our way East to the real crest of the ridge. On the way back down we stuck to single track, and found a few fun skills sections. Back at the bottom, we climbed up to the West and tested our courage on the wood work. As dusk fell under the trees, we called it a great day and packed it up to go find some milk shakes at the nearest Zip’s Drive-in, a local fast food franchise.

Riverside Park has miles of mellow singletrack - from fttrc.org

Riverside State Park stretches along the Spokane and Little Spokane Rivers northwest of Spokane. The park’s nearly 10,000-acres cling to the twists of the rivers. However, in places the park expands and narrow, sandy single track darts off into the pines. Riverside State Park features more than 75-miles of trails plus the famous Centennial Trail that runs 37-miles from Spokane to Idaho.

On a cold, dry afternoon, we set out for a cross-country ride from the trailhead at Carlson Rd., heading south toward the Bowl and Pitcher Area. The temp hovered near my “a little cold for riding” point. Bad omens piled up deeper than the pine needles that carpeted the worn single track. In sight of the parking lot, Dig rolled into an immovable object and went over the bars – on a climb. When he put himself back together, the brakes on his vintage metallic rust-colored Schwinn Homegrown were sticking. Standing around with the cool air picking at us through our bike clothes, we managed to figure out a fix. Onward, time to warm up!

Basalt formations in Deep Creek Canyon

The surface on Riverside’s trails varies between sand and Basalt. Basalt formations are weirdly barrow-like and trails cut along their sides present lots of exposure. The rock tends to break off into sharp-edged chunks designed to shred tires and bodies. Approaching Deep Creek canyon, we descended a dicey section with several switch backs scattered with rock fragments and edged by some significant exposure. I did a full flying dismount attempting one of these turns, launching over the bars with my feet tucked up underneath me and setting down the landing gear to avoid a head-over-heels tumble on that pointy rock. The tech-iest sections in the park feature climbs, descents and switchbacks littered with Basalt outcroppings or detritus. For eastern riders, sand can be challenging too. However, the sandy sections we encountered were mild – just very dusty for the following rider(s).

The prettiest sections of the ride are along the Spokane River, with its clear blue water and rapids. The Bowl and Pitcher Area is a great place to view the river, either close-up from the suspension bridge, or from on high. The slope behind the Pitcher offers some very tech trails among the Basalt.

After missing our first connection and pedaling furiously to catch our shuttle car, we stuck to the theme and recovered with Maggie Moo’s ice cream.

Expect sudden sweeping switchbacks on Mount Spokane - from IMBA

Mount Spokane State Park looms over the surrounding area, and its nearly 6,000-foot altitude gives its trails some great attitude. Standing atop its windblown summit (where on cool days one can see other states and another country), the cooler temperatures and the view of the steep drop-off to the East bluster and bark at the rider, making one feel under assault and unwanted here before even one pedal crank. However, once you drop off the backside of that summit and find yourself carving down eroded single track among widely-spaced trees in an old burn zone, the trepidation fades and the grin starts to spread across your face. It only grows wider farther down the mountain. Dialed-in now,  you pilot your rig in slicing, side-to-side arcs through narrow gaps in the cedars on trails with colloquial-yet-accurate names like Jedi Trees. This is a dream; a dream that will never end until the trail head miles and thousands of vertical feet away in a different plane of existence. Except if you miscalculate one of those gaps by even an inch. Dream trees these are not, young Paduan.

The ground drops away quickly from the summit of Mount Spokane

I don’t get a lot of enjoyment from sipping a drink, nor does my brother. We revel in “big” experiences. This is all building up to an excuse for why we only got one photo from our ride on Mount Spokane. We were too busy doing to take time to document it. Trails like this are experienced best as a whole, like a concept album. Rock on. (And take more pictures next time )

We parked one car at the top and dropped down trail 130, which drops down pretty steeply, dropping over roots and erosion-prevention devices. Approaching the first one of these erosion fences, I thought it was made of steel or hard rubber. Luckily, it is a flexible material, and doesn’t hamper the downward good times. I exorcised my demons on the top section, almost going off the ranch on one of the turns, and going slower than normal. Further down the hill, with all cylinders going, we rode trail 110 and made our way over to Smith Gap, where we found the aforementioned Jedi Trees trail. Along the way, Dig’s RaceFace seat post bolt sheared off, leaving him to stand for the rest of the descent. The final run-out along trail 115 was a carving, flowing thing through the trees and down to the road where our shuttle car waited.

We rode Mount Spokane on my last day in town, and my only regret was that because I had a flight to that evening, we couldn’t fit in another run. If you go, don’t be intimidated by the steep slopes atop Mount Spokane, just use The Force and flow. It’s a long, fun ride to the bottom. Make  sure to make time for ice cream.

© Big Mountain Riding
Planning your ride:

Beacon Hill Recreation Area maps are available for $8 from North Division Bike and Ski, Bicycle Butler, Bike Hub, Wheel Sport East and Mountain Gear, sales of the map are a fundraiser for the group that maintains these fun trails – fttrc.org Boulder Beach trail head: Park at the Boulder Beach pull out, on Upriver Drive, 1.25 miles w. of Argonne Road. Cross the road carefully and take your pick of the trails. For DH, head west and look for the fireroad that you can walk your bike up. For XC, head east and then look for trails heading to the left as you get close to the end of the property. Camp Sekani trail head - This entrance is on the N. side of Upriver Drive, just W. of Boulder Beach

Mount Spokane State Park – Trails on the official map are documented by numbers, and these maps are posted at some trail intersections. It behooves the downhill rider to select the right trail to avoid climbing back up even part of the hill. Ffrom Spokane: Drive north on Hwy. 2 to Hwy. 206. Follow Hwy. 206 for 15 miles to park entrance. Address: N. 26107 Mt. Spokane Park Dr., Mead, WA 99021

Riverside State Park - A map put together by the Backcountry Horsemen is available at Spokane’s REI or Northwest Maps for $5.95. Multiple trail heads including Carlson Rd., Mclellan Rd. 7 Mile Trailhead, Wilbur Rd near the Plese Flats Day Use Area, at the Bowl and Pitcher Trailhead and off of Government Way.

Big Mountain Riding elements: Big elevation changes, East Coast flow, extended rock gardens, mountain views

The views are great from the trails at Sherando Lake State Park

To make the most of the week of beautiful weather we’re having, I headed up to the Blue Ridge Mountains for a big mountain riding adventure ride at Sherando Lake State Park. The park is best-known for its scenic 25-acre lake and campground. However, it also features some very gonzo mountain bike trails. Peppered with rock gardens and featuring more natural flow than many East Coast trails, the area boasts some epic rides. The first time I visited the park it was a late-fall ride and before we were done, I had puked from the bone-rattling ride and cool air (the Gatorade breakfast hadn’t helped either) and one of our party broke a rib. That ride my style suffered from a trashed 100mm fork as well, which made the rock gardens a special torture. We also found one of the hugest climbs in our area, Mills Creek Trail, with 8 progressively tighter switchbacks on the way up a steep valley side.

On this day I planned on avoiding that particular climb, and having fun by cherry-picking a few of the more “fun” trails. After parking at White Rock Gap on the Blue Ridge Parkway several miles south of the turn-off for the park (somewhere in the middle of the ride area, vertically speaking) I started off by railing a quick 2.5 mile creek side descent to Sherando Lake. Fortunately I happened to see an approaching group of hikers well ahead of time, and I halted and let them pass. After pleasantries, it was back to the sheer joy of dropping a smooth single track where gravity carries the rider over the rocks and roots in a flow like the stream running next to the trail. I pumped over a few obstacles and put the puzzle pieces together for a successful crossing of the stone-filled stream bed as the trail flattened out.

In the park, I looked over a notice board description of the trails and chose the Blue Loop Trail as a way of getting back up to above my starting point. I saw I could make a loop of it using Torrey Ridge Trail and the Slacks Trail back to White Gap Trail. AVOID the Blue Loop Trail – or at least the 1-mile segment connecting the lake with Torrey Ridge Trail. It is short, steep and stepped. Loose gravel covers the first 1/4 mile or so, and then stone stairs and rock gardens take care of all but the last 1/4 mile or so, beyond Lookout Rock. Lookout rock is worth the view, though I’d recommend coming down from Torrey Ridge Trail to see it and not up from the campground.

The sandy beach of Sherando Lake below Lookout Rock

Having gained the ridge, it was a 3-mile roller coaster climb up to the Slacks Trail. However, this is the easy section of the Torrey Ridge Trail … The 2.5-mile run down the Slacks Trail is one of the joys of mountain biking. It flows well, and is more than 95% down hill. Two rock gardens spice things up, both rideable, I believe. Although I’m still smarting from going down in the second rock garden (later in the day, in the rain). This trail is so good that I climbed all the way back up to Bald Mountain to do it again, after lunch.

Following a lunch break at the car at White Rock Gap (forewarned is forearmed, I had a cooler full of treats), I pedaled up the Blue Ridge Parkway to Bald Mountain. Originally, I had planned on getting there via the White Rock Falls trail, right across the road from White Rock Gap, but it was marked for foot travel only. The Parkway was a better idea anyway, as traffic was light on a weekday and I could use the big ring for a great deal of the climb. At Bald Mountain, I turned in on the Fire Road, rode for less than a mile and turned right up to Bald Mountain. The Torrey Ridge Trail dropped off to the left near the end of the double-track. It started innocently enough, and I encountered another hiker and asked about the rest of the Torrey Ridge Trail, which descended all the way down the ridge beyond the lake. However, after leaving the hiker, less than 1/2 a mile into the trail, I hit the first rock garden. And this was followed by one of the most extensive rock gardens around. A long, downhill affair with several stages. I had encountered it before, and been thwarted. As I was this time. Too psychologically intimidating.

The bigger they are the harder they fall - that's the trail, folks!

After walking (on trembling chicken legs down through the rock garden, I pedaled it out to the Slacks Trail in the cool Appalachian rain and railed it all again, except for taking a could-have-been-a-lot-worse spill in the second rock garden. I put a foot down on the downhill side too near the edge of the trail, turned my ankle on a rock, and did a tumble in the rocks. Miraculously, I came away with only a banged knee and hip bone. No flowing blood or big bruises. That’s why all good rock gardeners wear protection, my friends. So they don’t end up gazing down horrified at their own bones protruding from their leg or arm. Rocks play for keeps.

Sherando Lake has a great mix of trails for those willing and able to climb for the reward. I’d recommend parking at White Rock Gap or at the Slacks Overlook, as they are in the middle vertically. However, if you have shuttle vehicles, you could park one at Bald Mountain and another down at the end of Torrey Ridge Trail, or at the park itself and get some fun downhill runs in. Big Levels trail also goes off of Bald Mountain, and is an old favorite.

Trails covered on this adventure ride: White Rock Gap Trail, Slacks Trail, Blue Loop Trail, Torrey Ridge Trail

Other big mountain riding favorites in the area: Big Levels Trail …

© Big Mountain Riding

Getting There:

Sherando Lake Recreational Area / State Park
96 Sherando Lake Road
Lyndhurst VA 22952

From Interstate 64: Take exist 96 off Interstate 64 just east of Stuarts Draft, Virginia. Go South on State Route 624. The road number changes to State Route 664 at Lyndhurst, Virginia, but there is no distinct turn. Continue South on State Route 664 approximately 8 miles to the entrance to the Sherando Lake Recreation Area on the right. The gate house is approximately 1/2 mile ahead. If the gatehouse is closed, continue through the recreation area to the group camping area at the end of the road.

From the south or southwest: Sherando Lake State Park is accesible from the Blue Ridge Parkway. You can get to the Parkway via Route 664 (Wintergreen Resort) or from I-81 N: Take exit 213 for US-11 toward US-340/Greenville, Follow signs for 340 and turn left on US-340, Turn right at Draft Ave/VA-608, Continue to follow VA-608 until it turns into VA-610, follow 610 to Torrey Road, turn right on Torrey Road, Park entrance is on the right in about 4 miles.

Mountain biking is FUN! Even in 90-degree heat ...

With summer’s heat, I head higher into the mountains to escape the swelter. The third Big Mountain Riding Adventure Ride found me far out in the hollers of Virginia’s Blue Ridge Mountains, at Cave Mountain Lake National Recreation Area for some sweet backcountry singletrack with the promise of a cool-off swim afterward. This ride is only 4-miles if done one way, but it features many big mountain elements that make it worthwhile.

Big Mountain Ride #1 – Whetstone Ridge Trail

Big Mountain Ride #2 – Pedlar Ranger District bushwhack

Get directions to Cave Mountain Lake Recreation Area. The Recreation Area is pretty far out there and I decided to add to the middle-of-nowhere feel by getting there via a gravel, one-lane road descending 10-miles  from the Blue Ridge Parkway. I use that road for a training ride to prepare for epic events. It turned out to be a bit too much as an access road. About 7-miles in, my bike jarred loose from the Rocky Mounts fork mount and came through the rear passenger side window of my car. That added a new element to the adventure, as I had to detour out to civilization, thus defeating the purpose of my “shortcut”.

We put the 'K' in Kwality

I drove out to the nearest “country store,” but they had no duct tape. Huh. Not much of a country store. Had to go into Glasgow, Virginia to find a decent role of duct tape. In the Dollar General store parking lot I braced the remainder of my window, adding some class to the already rather rent-a-wreck look.

Back in the hollers, I paid my $5 day-use fee and rolled into the park. I picnicked in a beautifully rustic group pavilion built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930’s. Those guys knew how to build to last, and with style.

I pushed off from lunch, pulled down the bike and scouted out the trailhead for what looked like the only good-sized trail in the park, a loop called the Wildcat Mountain Trail. The CCC guys must have had a few feline encounters, because the other trail I saw was labeled “Panther Knob Trail.”

The CCC built to last

A helpful park volunteer steered me to the path and wished me well on what I correctly predicted would be an arduous ride. I rode the loop from the west trailhead, which featured a deadfall within the first 100-yards (an omen of things to come).

If that's not enough, ride it both ways

However, I rode over it and over many of the obstacles and soft trail conditions during the during the first 1/3 of the ride up to a fire road. On the other side of the fire road the climb got serious. In the sweltering heat, I climbed up a soft trail bed with plenty of hoof prints from its primary traffic – deer. The trail featured steeply inclined sections ramping up to progressively tighter switchbacks. Also, the higher it went the narrower the trail grew. In my overheated brain, I hoped for a super sweet downhill to match, and hoped that I had not unwittingly come up the harder side of the trail.

After plenty of hike-a-biking and granny-gear climbing with my heart smashing into my ribs twice for every pedal turn, I rolled onto what seemed like a downward incline. After sucking down water fiercely from my CamelBack and then moderating my breathing, I rolled on and soon encountered the first blazes I had noticed so far – Orange. Additionally, I came across a helpful sign marking the half-way point. Not sure if it was supposed to offer hope or inspire one to turn back if they thought they had gone further than they had. No summit marker that I saw, just a half-way marker. Niftily, that marked the beginning of a rewarding downhill run on classic CCC singletrack like that found in other Virginia big mountain riding sweet spots like Douthat and Sherando Lake state parks.

"You're almost there!" Let the games begin

The downhill made up for the sweat-hog climb. I would definitely recommend riding Wildcat Mountain Trail in the same direction I did. Yes, I did have to push the bike, but in cooler weather I would have pushed the heart rate higher and ridden more of it. And, the downhill toward the eastern side of the campground features a rock garden and some obstacles that require gravity assistance. In fact, only one tight squeeze is a definite dismount on this descent.

The backcountry element crops up in dozens of deadfalls and at least one flooded ford of a creek. However, at the end one rides out into a well-maintained campground and then at the end of the road a cool swimming hole awaits. I rode back to my car, grabbed my trunks, hit the CCC-built bath house for a shower and caught a  quick dunk as the rain began to fall and thunder rumbled in the distance. Another great day of Virginia big mountain riding. Those looking for a longer, more challenging experience could ride this trail in both directions in one ride.

©bigmountainriding.com

Cool off after a hot ride

More info:

Name: Cave Mountain Lake

Fees: Day-use $5 per vehicle, Camping: $15-per site.

Administered by National Forest / Park/ State: Jefferson

Specific Agency: National Forest Service

Camping Season: Apr 1 to Oct 31 (As the season may vary from year-to-year and based on conditions please check before visiting)

Number and Type of Campsites: Available: 42 Gravel: 42 Back-ins(12 x 22)

Other Features and Amenities: Restrooms and Showers Public Phone Handicap Access Table at Site BBQ at Site Nature Trails

Internet and Wireless Access: no

Contact Information and Reservations:
Telephone: 540-291-2188
If no email is available additional information can be found at the National Forest Service Website

Additional Information:
Fishing, Boating, Swimming and Hiking: Cave Mtn Lake Swimming

Riding in our pristine National Forests

The weather on the second bigmountainriding.com all mountain adventure ride was pretty much the opposite from the inaugural adventure ride. Temps in the mid- to upper-80’s. Blue skies and dust in many places on the trail (Paradoxically, it was also muddy in places).

FYI for the number weenies out there, this isn’t gonna be your kind of site. Just to put it out at the beginning. That way no one is disappointed when they don’t get the exact kilometers of the ride, or the elevation change to the nearest 50-meters. Distance = unknown (5-10 miles); Elevation gain = 1,500 – 2,000 feet (based on computations from the USGS map).

I parked at the Appalachian Trail (AT) parking lot on US 501 just north of the intersection with US 130, in Amherst Co., Va., next to the James River. I had scouted out this ride back in March, on foot. The scouting trip proved my initial idea of using a trail called Peavine Mountain Trail was a no-go, as it seemed to be well-maintained Forest Service Road (FSR) even though on my old map it was marked as singletrack. However, the scouting trip revealed that there was an old section of the AT left over from where they had bypassed it. It went up over a ridge peaking at the Peavine Mountain Trail and then descended back down to the James River. So, I decided to ride this remnant as a loop, using a FSR to connect to the beginning of the left-over AT section.

Unmarked entrance to former AT section on left.

I packed my backcountry adventure riding gear, even though the temperatures this time made it a bit more difficult of a decision than the initial adventure ride, where the cold temperatures made it easy to pack on the extra gear in an attempt to stay warm. I threw a bee-sting pain reliever kit into my first aid pack, and debated taking out the space blanket, but how much weight does that really add? Fortunately I did bring a lot of water.

I crossed 501 and started the climb on State Road 812. The heat hit immediately after I pointed the front wheel uphill. I ground gears up about 200-feet of elevation gain and then the road dropped down to the creek bed level. I turned onto FSR 36, but only to cross Rocky Row Run and the intersection with the AT remnant.

I was not looking forward to the designed-for-hikers climb in the heat. As I entered the woods, I got my heart rate going quickly on the initial steep turn or two. The climb was lined with pine needles, slowly baking in the sun. I almost put my still-winterized heart through my sternum on a needly tight switch back – all out pedaling until I slid out both wheels at pretty much the same time.

Extra points for style?

I figured it was a good idea to not think about all the creepy crawlies that lurked under the needles. Specifically the ticks. That was my main fear – lymes disease carrying ticks. I was wearing soccer socks doused liberally in Cutter Outdoorsman repellent, in an attempt to deter ticks.

At the top, near where the trail peaked out at the intersection with FSR 36, a Pine tree lay along the trail. It is actually set up well to be turned into a log ride with the removal of a few limbs. I had noted it on my hike as well, and seeing it again I think I may bring my Sven Saw with me the next time I ride up there.

Pine log lying along trail - prime for turning into a log ride.

At the top of the climb, I paused roadside and donned my crash pads – a bit of overkill, but I figure better safe than sorry on these backcountry, big mountain rides. I knew the descent had some rocky sections, and the slipperiness of the pine needles on the climb had me thinking ahead to how they’d behave under tire on the down hill.

The underbrush was taking up more of the trail on each side than it had when I hiked there in March. And Rhododendrons are not friendly to knuckles. I clipped a few on my way down, crossing a few logs while trying not to think about the log mishap I’d had on the Whetstone Ridge Trail. I stopped to look at the scenic ledges alongside the trail right before the down hill got interesting. They make a good spot to lunch, as the creek below babbles away, and there is open rock for sitting.

Ledges trailside are a good spot for a break.

I didn’t feel much like hanging around, as I was not hungry, and it was hot. I remounted and worked down the hill to the first creek crossing, hoping for luck in the leaf-littered trail. Nothing shifted too much, and I enjoyed the little rock steps on the way down, and the few minor hairy spots that required trusting the bike on the looser trail surfaces.

Creekside I photo-opped my bike, Jack Rabbit Slim, and made sure I took in more water. I also busted the map out and decided that enough was not enough. I was now almost back to US 130, and I decided to climb back up to FSR 36 on Cashaw Creek Trail, which intersected with the AT remnant just before the next creek crossing, and then descend the AT drop again.  It looked like the Cashaw Creek Trail went right across the contour lines, but that there was some decent space between the contour lines, so I hoped for a doable climb.

I turned onto the unmarked and unlabeled Cashaw Creek Trail and started the climb on the fire road. The trail had spaced out berms for erosion, and had spin out marks occasionally from motocross bikes or ATV’s. Although the climb was hot, it was shallow enough to allow mostly middle ring climbing.

Cashaw Creek Trail

Cashaw Creek Trail would be a good singlespeed climbing route. The AT remnant is a bit steep for climbing. The trail climbed to an earth work – where the Forest Service bulldozes up a berm to block access to trails by automobiles – and then intersected with another trail. The USGS map I was using was 10-years old, and I was to find many an unmarked trail (and these are trails big enough for Jeeps). I paused here and decided to extend the ride even further. Enough was still not enough. I decided to take the Peavine Mountain Trail (FSR 36) south east to either the Blue Ridge Parkway, or the Pedlar ATV Trails.

However, as I started downhill on what I thought was FSR 36, I encountered trees growing in the trail bed within a hundred yards, and I decided to check the map again, before I got too far downhill.

Don't forget to enjoy the scenery.

It was not the right trail. I rode the opposite direction until I intersected with FSR 36 at a scenic clear cut logging site, and then turned back and rode down to another intersection I had seen, that led in the direction I wanted to go. I rode over another big earth work and descended on overgrown doubletrack, taking a few more log crossings and dodging low-hanging limbs. When I came to a junction of another mostly-unused trail, followed shortly afterward by a creek crossing, I busted out the map and tried to figure out where I was. By now I had to admit I was just dead reckoning my way across Peavine Mountain, hoping that I’d see the ATV trails through the woods or hear cars on the Blue Ridge Parkway. My main concern was to not expend a lot of energy riding up a deadend trail. Riding down was OK.

On the map, the creek that should have been in the vicinity of where I believed I was was Cashaw Creek. If I was crossing a creek then the South Pedlar ATV trails should be off on the hillside to the Southeast. I took advantage of an open forest floor from a fire the year before, and cut down through the woods, paralleling the creek until I came to a likely crossing spot. On the hillside I could see an old trail bed, and I forded the creek and started up the hill, pushing through encroaching rhododendron bushes.

Overgrown, unlisted trails, Pedlar Ranger District.

Optimism swept over me and I started strutting a little, at least internally. I had hit right on the ATV trails, using dead reckoning! I could see another, bigger, trail bed up in the woods ahead. However, when I got up to it, I realized that it was another out of use road, and only looked in use because of the recent fire. The fire fighters must have used it to access the terrain. I flipped a coin mentally and went to the right. The wiry limbs of the rhododendron brush soon had me fighting to make headway and struggling to pull my bike through some patches. Not much of the road bed was rideable. However, I could see I was climbing up to a ridge, and I hoped that would give me some perspective.

Good news at the top of the ridge: I could see the red dirt swath of a major trail up to my left. I rode out along the ridge, dodging deadfalls and arrived on the ATV trails. I think if I would have turned left back when I flipped for which way to go, I may have intersected the ATV trail even sooner. Consulting the map again, I decided this must be the Lasso Trail on the ATV trails, which goes out and back to a hilltop. Oriented, I rode to my right, to the Southeast. I was glad to be on these ATV trails, which is saying a lot for me. At one point back in 1997, I almost finished my mountain biking days on these trails. And in April, too! Now, though, they were the sign I had been looking for, a quantifiable reference point.

You are here! The ATV trails provided a reference point.

My water supply was holding up well, and I started up a gradual climb, sipping water and popping an electrolyte pill. Soon enough I intersected with the main trail and turned to the right again, opting for the shorter trip to the parking lot. A good decision, as it also provided some excellent views, including one that let me know just how far it was to my car. I’ll nominate this sensation as a hallmark of big mountain riding. When the rider encounters a panoramic view and then realizes that over there, way over there, is where he has to ride. The following photo may illustrate this. I stopped to enjoy an overlook of the James River valley and the Blue Ridge Mountains skylining the scene to the Southwest. Framed in the middle of the scene was the Norfolk Southern Railroad bridge angling across the waters of the James right above the dam. And I had left my car parked in the AT trailhead lot right next to the northern end of that bridge. The only good thing about this particular knowledge was that I was looking down on the scene from at least 1,000 feet above that bridge, so the ride would be mostly down hill. The red arrow in the panoramic shot below points to where the car was.

Ride debrief continues below the photo …

Nice view. It's really that far back to the car?

Highlights of the downhill on the ATV trail were a few pumped front sides on the berm jumps that are scatted along this ATV trail system, and the encounter with a motocrosser, where I heard him climbing up to me and we happened to meet right at one of those berms. I pumped into the front side, like BriLo preaches, and aired it out past the moto man.

At the bottom of the trail, I paused to bake a little in the Rattlesnake parking lot and verify to re-familiarize myself with the trail system using the posted map. It was a lot of fun, getting air on all those down hill berms, and seeing some potential for trail side rock launches for a braver day.

Rattlesnake Parking lot of South Pedlar ATV trails

From the parking lot it was out onto US 130 for a mostly downhill run back to the parking lot. Luckily only one or two cars came along and I didn’t encounter any logging trucks going my way. They were working on the Snowden Bridge, and it all looked like a downsized James Bond scene in the making, with the dam behind the bridge, and the construction workers flagging traffic. I saw another biker – or at least his rig, an old Trooper with a Surly singlespeed on top. Maybe they were swimming or kayaking in the James.

Back at the car I wished I had put a Mountain Dew in Rocky Row Run to stay cool. I packed up and headed home via Big Island where I could pick up a Gatorade and replace some lost electrolytes.

A fun ride with options to expand and explore on the many unmarked, out-of-use road beds that are scattered through the woods of the Pedlar Ranger District. Would be even better on a cooler day.

©Big Mountain Riding

The soft-hued Blue Ridge Mountains.

Signpost listing distance of the Singletrack part of the ride (from the south)

The ride I had planned out using a USGS map of the area was a 20+ mile loop from the Whetstone Ridge Restaurant on the Blue Ridge Parkway, featuring a long ridge ride on singletrack and then a prolonged climb back on a mixed surface county road. I had not done the ride before, but I had the time and the experience with long distance riding in less than ideal conditions. Donning the cold-weather gear, I packed away a lot of backcountry equipment as well. These are items that go along on all back country expeditions, solo or group rides. 100-oz water pack, first aid kit with emergency blanket and water purification tablets, compass and map, more food than I think I’ll need. I also wore my crash pads (more later on the irony of that). Fortunately, I also carried my cell phone, although I didn’t think I’d have service for most of the ride.

The restrooms at the Parkway rest area were open, so I took the opportunity to use indoor plumbing and warm up a bit before starting the pedals turning on my bike, Jack Rabbit Slim, a 2007 Gary Fisher HiFi Deluxe. The singletrack parallels the parkway for the first few minutes, and then starts up to the ridge. The initial climb is a good challenge of technical climbing because of the rock stair sections. Once the trail gains the ridge line, which doesn’t take long, things settled into a regularity. It is Whetstone Ridge Trail, and the singletrack sticks mostly to the ridge line, with its relatively minor ups and downs. It does deviate to either side of the actual spine from time to time. And even the spine itself features some gnarly ups and downs. See the picture below to the right.

A gnarly but rideable section on the spine of Whetsone Ridge

The good news about the initial climb was that I warmed up quickly, even with the snow flurries. Soon I was sweeping up and down, starting to feel the ride and hoping for something a bit more gonzo than what seemed to be mostly a mild-mannered hiking trail. Pride goes before …

Since the trail was mellow I took the opportunity to play around with shooting a riders POV video with my hand held digital camera.  That was fun, although I almost lost the camera when I had to make a quick grab for the other side of the handlebars with my camera hand to prevent a spill. Gonna need a Hero cam and helmet mount if I want to shoot the cooler sections. I’ll try to upload the video, though, so you can get an idea of the bleakness of the day and the trail.

Less than an hour in and I came to rue my earlier gonzo attitude. Approaching a downed log on a flat section of the trail, I was moving at a good pace and preparing to manual the front wheel over it. It stuck about six inches or less up above the leaves. However, as I approached the log, I realized my front wheel was plowing deeper and deeper into the leaves. The log was two to three times higher than I had thought! I’m not sure what exactly happened next, but I know too things: 1. I didn’t successfully clean the log, and 2. I let BriLo down. I got the front wheel over, I believe but the back wheel slammed into the log and bucked up. I stiffened up and did not correct my rapid up and over momentum. When my bike hit the ground, one end of the handlebars planted into the red Virginia clay deep enough to peel back the grips. The other end waited for me. I landed on it on my right thigh, an then bounced off into the leaves. As always, I forgot to land on my forearms, which are protected by the crash pads. And the bar drove into my thigh about two inches above the top of my knee and shin guard. See photo to the left below. The picture of the winner (the submerged log) is to the right below.

A log with my name on it. The leaves camo its true height.

Swelling within two minutes of crash - just above the crash pad.

After impact, I rolled around on the ground for awhile, expressing myself and hoping the pain would abait soon. I didn’t know what had happened until later, but I had this nasty feeling in my leg and I knew it was more than just a normal spill. After a minute or so I got to my feet; my leg was stiff and I could see the bulge through my tights. In a way, I was glad that I coudn’t see all the details behind the black lycra.

Back in the saddle it was a slower and wiser Tigger for awhile. First, I had to force my right leg to turn the cranks and do things like stand up in the rough stuff. Secondly, I had realized as I writhed in the leaves that I was a long way from help and on a day that would not likely see any other trail users. Finally, I had a stomach-turning thought about what an impact point about a foot higher would have done. “Has anyone seen my spleen? I seem to have ruptured my spleen.” God was with me that day, though and I only had one whopper of a charley horse. It made me regret the day years ago when I had come home from school and asked my younger brother, Dig, if he knew what a frogger was. He didn’t and so I asked if he wanted one. Now I had the king of froggers. My remorseful reminiscing also extended to my Pisgah Mountain Bike Adventure team mate, Darren, who had done something similar on the approach to a mossy railroad tie bridge during the 2008 PMBAR. Except his was higher up the inner thigh. Ouch. I realized I had not fully realized how much something like that hurt.

Eventually I was riding scared enough that I was putting myself in more danger with the low speed and hesitancy. I also walked the most gonzo part of the the trail (though this may have been a very good thing given later events). At the top of one of the ridges the trail dove off the backside and even had a few Porcupine Rim-esque big step-offs. Another day. After hopping down these steps and almost losing it trying to walk through a rock garden or two, I got the courage back and the sense of self-preservation and stayed aboard for most of the rest of the ride’s descents.

I stopped high atop the ridge for my lunch, as I was getting cold for the first time since leaving the parking lot. I had packed along a grilled chicken wrap that felt like it weighed a pound or so. Solid food. I ate half of it atop the ridge and saved the remainder for what promised to be a grueling climb back along the road. Now I could see the occasional house down in the valley below, so I knew that had to be the road that I would be traveling. As the trail picked up pace on its way down the ridge as it dropped down into the creek valley, I almost missed a turn-off that I was not expecting. My map was 10-years old, and they have apparently changed the routing of the singletrack. I brought Jack Rabbit Slim to a halt and turned back and dropped down on hillside-hewn singletrack wending its way back along the ridge.

A ways down the hillside descent – at a low enough elevation that the wildflowers were blooming – I stopped and ate the other half of the wrap. Several minutes after resuming the descent, the ride threw me another curveball. An uprooted tree had rerouted the trail a foot to one side and I carved past the root ball, straightened up and then heard a sound like a handclap or a finger snap. My back wheel flopped do my left and began to rub on the seat stays. I hit the brakes, confused. The only other time I had felt that sensation was on my very first mountain bike, a Sears special. I had rode into a few to many curves, breaking 17 of the rear spokes over time. One day I stood up to pedal up an incline, applied force and the rear hub just broke loose. The rear wheel flopped into the seat stays and that was the end of that ride. I knew the hub had not snapped loose on Jack Rabbit Slim. I looked down and saw the left chain stay almost touching the ground. It had snapped clean in two. This was a first.

My first mid-ride frame failure - a long walk awaits

I contemplated my options for a bit. I was probably a mile from the road, and then at least 10 miles from my car once I got on the road. That was only a 3-4 hour walk, except that my right leg was still throbbing away and I was wearing cycling shoes with SPD cleats on the bottom. I powered up my cellphone. No signal. I looked up at the ridge looming to behind me. Then I remembered that I had seen cell towers on the ridge opposite when I was up on Whetstone Ridge. I left the bike trail side, along with my Camelback. I took the map, and my compass. Looking over at the opposite ridge, I sighted on the towers and took a compass bearing. Then I began the arduous process of hauling myself up the steep and leaf-covered hillside in hopes of getting a signal. The first few times a bar appeared, it disappeared as soon as I hit send. Finally I was up high enough that I was starting to expect to come across the trail again, up on the ridge. I must have climbed a quarter to a half mile up the hill. I had two bars of digital roam. I called my buddy Phil, who has had to extract me from a few dicey situations before. No answer. I looked at my watch and realized he was in a meeting and would be for the next hour at least. I called him back and left him a message just in case he saw I was calling twice. I waited a few minutes. Then I called him again and left some more details – I thought I might have understated the first message. I left a message detailing my situation and my location in what I hoped was a lucid set of directions.

I thought I should call my wife and leave her a voicemail that I would be quite late getting home. To get a signal, I had my phone flipped upside down with the internal antenna pointed up instead of its normal location. To do this meant using the speaker phone as the internal antenna is near the mouthpiece for some reason. I didn’t know if I was even understandable in this format. My own rescue ranger picked up the phone, and I changed plans on the fly. I gave detailed instructions, only losing her once or twice as the signal faded. Using my directions, the tip to look up nearby Crabtree Falls on Google, and the GPS in the car, she was able to find me.

Before our happy reunion, I faced 2-3 hours of staying warm and getting down to the road. My compass bearing worked out better than I had hoped, and I came out of the undergrowth right on top of my broken bike. I pushed it down the remainder of the trail, which took at least 1/2 hour. Then I was out on the paved part of VA 603. Surprisingly, no one stopped to ask if I wanted a ride. Not that I would have taken them up, as I had support on the way, but in my experience country folk are more helpful. However, these were hillfolk, with the accompanying inbred, oops, I mean inherited, paranoia and passive-aggressive outlooks.

Get out of Dodge, Hombre

I saw at least two places with the same strange sign. It stated: “Not responsible for accidents.” OK. Accidents like accidental shootings?

My rescue ranger arrived right on time. Just as my leg was starting to really protest the long walk out, I looked at my watch and thought that my dearest could arrive at any moment. Minutes later, the car swept around a bend in the road. More than nine miles of progressively steeper road still remained between me and my car. I was very happy to not have to hoof that. I calculated that it would have taken me an additional 4-5 hours at the pace I was making on the bum leg. As it was, we were home by shortly after dark, eating Chinese take-out by the fireplace.

I took the bike to the shop the next day and Fisher should be replacing the rear triangle. A week later and my leg is feeling better. I have been swimming and I ran some stairs today. I may ride tomorrow. Something tamer than Whetstone Ridge. As a closing thought, I include a photo of my leg a few days after the ride, once the colors had spread a bit.

- Big Mountain Riding, Whetstone Ridge Trail

©Big Mountain Riding

Like a rainbow