Big Mountain Riding

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

Story and photos by Randy King

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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).

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)

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.

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.

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)

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.

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

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