Big Mountain Riding

Going down on the wet roots of Douthat State Park

The 2009 Middle Mountain Momma XXC race served up an extra dose of pain and suffering. This Mountain Bike Virginia classic at Douthat State Park is always an epic, with approximately 40 miles of singletrack, soft-soiled doubletrack and forest service road. Adding to this already challenging mix was a deluge approaching the stuff of a Johnny Cash song. It had rained 1.5 inches overnight, and the race organizers said it had rained an additional 1-inch that morning before 9 a.m. On our way into Douthat SP, the streams were rushing along high between their banks, and large puddles reached far out into the road. As we registered, people were talking of a significant storm cell holding in the area.

The Double XC race did not start on time, as race organizers talked with the Park Rangers about whether or not to postpone the race, and consulted the radar displays. Riders huddled under a group picnic shelter and awaited the verdict. I know personally that I kind of hoped for a cancellation. It was cold standing around, damp-footed. However, I also wanted a green light, as I felt I might do better in the poor conditions, having raced several editions of the Pisgah Mountain Bike Adventure Race in deplorable conditions including all-day cold rain.

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2009 Middle Mountain Momma XXC STATS: 40 Miles, +/-6,000 feet of elevation gain,

about 40 racers, winning time – +/-4.5 hours, lots of DNF’s, my time -  just under 6 hours, 22nd.

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Ranger verdict: The XXC was ON! We prepared for a 10 a.m. start, “warming up” by putting our bikes and gear together in the pouring rain and then riding up and down the gravel road and the beginning of the singletrack in the cold slop. Most riders were muddy by the time we lined up to start. It was anticlimactic after the waiting. “The race will be starting in about 8 minutes,” we were told. I lined up about 3/4 of the way back in the pack, as I wasn’t sure how I’d feel on that first big climb. Once we gathered around for a little talk about the turns we’d need to take, it was 10 a.m. “Ok then, ready, set, go!”

There was momentary delay as everyone registered that this was it. Then it was across the open field toward the woods. Riders were grinding into gear, only to come to a noisy halt as the pack bunched up at the narrow opening to the singletrack. Wet disc brakes moaned and howled and the techni-riders grumbled at the yahoos who couldn’t fall into line before the gap in the split-rail fence. Into the woods, the mud and wet rocks and roots soon unhorsed many of the eager beavers who had raced across the field but lacked technical finesse. The very first little steep section had big mountain greenhorns off their bikes and bringing traffic to a walking pace. I took the opportunity to pass a few of these fine folks as they remounted. Then it was up and away; All Aboard the pain train!

The initial climb was not a continuous slow grind as I’d remembered it from years ago. There was actually a big ring section about 1/2 mile or so into it that gave us about another 1/2 mile of exciting riding in the mud at high speed. It set expectations for what the big downhill on the other side of Middle Mountain had in store for us.

All aboard the "Pain Train": start of the several mile climb up Middle Mountain

After that high speed slip and slide run along the contour lines, the fun was over and the serious uphill began. The trail (Aptly named, at least at the start, Blue Suck Falls Trail – it sucked and we were blue with cold!) features many babyhead rocks and roots, as well as wood water bars to slow erosion. All of these features are slippery when wet, and the mud that filled the gaps between these obstacles worked its level best to partially blind riders and fill in the tread on our knobbies. We climbed through the rhododendrons, switch back after horrible switch back. Riders were spread out now, and while I had passed about 6-8 riders lower down, I now had a sizeable gap ahead of me and behind. I could see a rider in a red helmet behind me whenever I switched back, and I did catch one or two more riders near the top – singlespeeders reserving their stomp action for later on.

Finally, the trail topped out on the ridgeline of Middle Mountain. Led Zeppelin came to my mind over my ipod tunes, for we were in the Misty Mountains for sure. Tendrils of vapor clung to the dripping leaves and lurked in the narrow valleys. Me, I put my head down, shifted into a higher gear and worked my way along Middle Mountain.

The ridgeline is mostly a gradual downhill, with a few brief ups. The mud lay thick here, churned to a froth by the front riders. It flew up into my face and robbed my tires of their purchase. Now, I have referred in several posts to BriLo and his book. Well, I channeled his skills this day. One technique in particular saved my bacon about 7 times. Lopes shares a muddy conditions tip from Steve Peat: If you start to slide out in mud just get your front wheel on track where you want it and your rear wheel will come into line. This is true. On the way across Middle Mountain I had my first of many high speed two-wheel slides, and I let off the brakes and steered the front tire back onto the trail while the back end hung out for a second or so before whipping back into line. What a rush! Especially later in the day on some of the 6-inch steep side hill singletrack.  Oh yes, the 2009 Middle Mountain Momma XXC provided plenty of opportunities for technical riding skills and improvisation.

The guy in the red helmet caught me on the descent to Smith Creek Road. The big down hill was a cold one, and I kept busy pulling my arm warmers back up as they kept sliding down with all the jarring and tired elastic. I also caught a rider or two on this white knuckle descent with several switchblade switchbacks, and a drop into a creek at the bottom. Out of the creek, it was left on Smith Creek Road, and into a bigger gear for the short run on the gravel road. The turn off to climb Brushy Mountain was a steep singletrack up the embankment and I walked it in the mud. Up through the woods on a gradual climb to the first water supply. I stopped and put two bottles of water into my Camelback despite knowing I’d have to climb with the extra weight. I saw many had not refilled here, given the few empty bottles, but I agreed with my friend in the red helmet, who was there as well, that if I didn’t refill, I thought I’d regret it later as this loop promised lots of climbing.

From the water resupply, it was slopfest through a creek that used to be the trail. We rode in the several inch deep water for several hundred yards. Then we veered off on singletrack and encountered a “real” stream crossing. The water was up, cold and flowing strong. The banks were steep and slippery on both sides. Red Helmet and I plopped into the cold water – above the knee in some places, and forded. Then the fun began, with a steep singletrack climb up to the old CCC doubletrack. I caught Red Helmet and managed to granny gear it up some of the terrain. The old, unused doubletrack is what I dreaded, because it had been soft enough on a “dry” year. It was nasty.

Granny gear was the only one that could make headway in lots of places on the really soft and mucky doubletrack. I left Red Helmet in the background, as I hoped my kneecaps wouldn’t separate on this bog ride. It ended in time, and it was back onto singletrack for another hill climb.

I have to credit the race organizers, because the course was well marked with one exception, and I found it easy to stay on course, even out in desolate country.

Munching a Clif Bar, I hiked a bit and hoped the power would hit in time for a the next DH. It did. This one was rural, with close-in wiry Laurel and Rhododendron bushes that took a toll on my knuckles as I plowed down overgrown singletrack. Eventually it was out onto another gravel road, this transition with a trap for unwary riders – a rutted ditch roadside. Not feeling the love, I kicked it into a bigger gear, pushing the big or middle chain ring off and on on the fast-flowing Lime Kiln Road.

I fought the glasses or no glasses battle for the first foggy several hours, eventually stowing them in my jersey pocket, after a dangerous descent off of Middle Mountain. However, I busted them back out for Lime Kiln Road, as the speed had mud frequently flying eyeward. My left eye in particular seemed to be a real mud magnet and several times I had to ride one-eyed after taking a glob to the cornea. Fogged or not, I saw the turn-off back to soft doubletrack. I stopped and got more chow. I was going through the gels at a fast rate, it felt. Trying to stay off the cramps. Someone passed me as I ate trailside.

Up the hill was a pain fest. The ground was not as soft as it had been on the other side, but forward momentum was at a premium. Finally, the turn arrow. Downhill to the rushing creek – nice DH. Watered up at the supply point and then it was back out onto Smith Creek Road, turning uphill for an 800-foot plus climb over 4 miles. Passed a few singlespeeders on this climb including a guy with a rigid SS who had flatted out all his spares. He also didn’t have a pump, or I would have left him my tire patches. Boo Hoo, if you chose to ride a rigid bike on this terrain you’d better be prepared for the pinch flats galore.

The climb wasn’t over as we veered off the gravel onto a singletrack going straight up to the Middle Mountain Ridge. On the ridge a rider sat at the intersection. He asked me if I was at the back or in the middle. I said I didn’t know, I just wanted to finish. Of course my mind was playing tricks on me as I put it into the big ring on the gradually descending ridgeline and telling me the tough climbs were over.

Read the rest in Part II of the Middle Mountain Momma XXC Debrief.