Snow, Mud, and Downed Trees

Bah--let the snow come. It won't stop ME from going mountain biking. But I did find out that it will greatly slow me down.

Although we'd seen a good amount of snow the previous week, the relatively warm weather and clear skies for the past several days meant that I was itching to get up to American Fork Canyon to see how the trails were faring. I knew that sections of trail would likely be a bit goopy, but nothing too terrible. Well, I was proven wrong for the last 1.5 miles of climbing I had to do for the day...

I started my ride at ~9 AM at the Pine Hollow trail head (the gate allowing access to the rest of the canyon past PH is now closed). It has actually been about 4 months since I had ridden Pine Hollow because as a trail, it is only so-so. BUT, as I came to realize with Tibble Fork, the stronger you become as a climber, the more enjoyable the steep trails are. Paradigm shift. The temperatures were in the low 40s as I began the climb, and I was thoroughly enjoying the morning--practically no trail users meant I could sing the song playing on my iPhone out loud and make a fool of myself to the trees. Bliss.

Not a bad view with the snow capped mountains, eh?

Because it was still very cold from the previous night's freeze, the trails were great; some snow, a little ice, but overall great riding conditions. I made it to Ridge Trail and continued my climb, realizing that Ridge was nearly dry the entire portion I rode. It was marvelous. I encountered a little mud at Mud Springs (d u h) and made it up to AF overlook. An aside: Don't ride all the way up to the end of AF overlook unless you really want to see the view; the last 1/2 mile is extremely rocky and technical and greatly hinders a good cadence. Stop once the rocks begin and enjoy the bomb back down to Mud Springs.

Ridge 157 - dry, fast, and practically no trail users. Awesome.

AF Overlook point - looking down into boring Utah Valley--those people don't know what they're missing

The little version of "Puke hill" on the Ridge 157 was actually muddy, so I hiked up that quickly and got to the four way. I plead with the universe to make SFLDC dry as I hadn't ridden the trail in quite awhile and I wanted to enjoy it one last time for the season. The dirt gods obliged--I had an amazingly fast and furious (like the movie) descent down SFLDC, grinning ear to ear with small amounts of dirt / mud flipping up into my teeth and face. But I didn't care.

"Well," I thought to myself, "a little more climbing up to the summit then I'll bomb back to the car to complete one of the best November rides I'd ever done." The dirt gods were tricky that day, for they evolved into mud gods and decided to pour on the goop from the bottom of SFLDC up to the summit. Nuts.

Since the weather had been warming up quite a bit, the normally frozen ground metamorphatised (those of you who don't believe this to be a word shouldn't look it up, because you'll likely not find any dictionary that provides the definition) into a muddy swamp. Not only that, but I encountered a plethora of downed trees along the trail. Double nuts.

Well, if I wasn't going to be riding my bike, I might as well get some trail work in. Every downed tree I came across, I made my best effort to move. Out of the five trees I encountered, I only couldn't move one (but that tree weighed 2,000 pounds, so I forgive myself). I'd give myself ~500 brownie points for the effort I put forth: clearing out those trees, removing branches, and trying to cover up sections of the trail that mountain bikers / motos had newly created to get around the trees. Kudos to me!

"Eek! A big bad tree in the way of the trail! Whatever shall I do?"

Boom. I backhanded that tree back into the stone age. For those of you who know how weak I am, this was a major accomplishment.

This tree was the biggest baddie of the day. It was still attached to its roots a bit so it took some genius on my part (use a fulcrum / leverage dummy!) to get it out. Mission accomplished.

All in all, by the time I'd cleared all the trees I could and hiked up to the summit (with some intermittent riding thrown in) my bike was completely gunked up. The rear wheel wouldn't spin at all and my bike weighed more than a DH rig. I was able to find some snow to clean it off as best as possible and get it moving again. From the summit it was a see-how-much-mud-I-can-flip-up-on-myself-from-my-tires as I shot downhill. Regardless, I was happy to be moving faster than 2 mph again.

Pobre bike. Covered in Utah mud (aka, cement). This isn't even the dirtiest she got...

Yeah, I complain about the mud, but have you ever tried to pick >100 little burrs out of spandex? NOT FUN.

The rest of the ride was quite uneventful--a quick blast down Pine Hollow (which includes one of the funnest sections of trail ever created--wide trail, tree roots making natural ledge jumps, and plenty of runway to really open up) and I was back to the car.

I was muddy, tired, and covered in burrs, but I was definitely happy to have been riding AF Canyon in November.

The Park That Is Lambert

With inclement weather already moving in, the mountain biking season is quickly coming to an end (several inches of snow up at the summit of AF Canyon already--barf). Amidst the doom and gloom of the coming winter, there stands a beacon of hope and joy. And that beacon is Lambert Park.

Full disclosure: Lambert Park is not a place where you'd want to do an epic ride. Nor is it a location that is chock full of super steep climbs, technical downhill, and breathtaking vistas. That is not the purpose of Lambert Park. Lambert Park is nestled in the foothills of Alpine, providing nearly year round mountain biking that is perfect for a quick ride after work or when all the other trails are too muddy (or snowy). Yesterday, during a brief lull in the rain and wind, I was getting stir crazy in the house and decided to see how Lambert had fared with the weather. It. Was. Perfect. (It also doesn't hurt that I can ride my bike to the trail head from my house quite conveniently.)

I geared up with my jersey, arm and leg warmers, and a beanie and headed out to Lambert. I'd chosen the perfect time of day to head out as the sun was actually coming through the clouds and it was warming up nicely--so nice, in fact, that the arm warmers and beanie became unnecessary half way through the ride.

I always choose to start my ride at 300 N / Bald Mountain Drive--there is a nice little parking spot for two vehicles and a trail starts there and dumps you right at the bottom of Corkscrew (a good warm up climb that takes you to the main network of Lambert's trails). After dodging the five different piles of horse poop that are ALWAYS on this section of the trail, I made it to Corkscrew and began my climb. Because it's so short, I generally stay in my middle chain ring in the front and the fourth from the top in the back--strong enough gearing that means I'm standing for the entire climb. As I have gotten stronger this season, though, I find that I really enjoy getting out of the saddle and just powering through those climbs. Perhaps I see the possibility of having a singlespeed in my inventory in the future (don't tell The Wife, though).

After a quick climb up Corkscrew, I always drop down Ziggy, then hook up with Poppy which then connects to Lambert's Luge, then Spring. I don't know why I love the climbing at Lambert so much, but I do. It's most likely the fact that the grade is mellow enough that I can always be in my 4th, 5th, or 6th gear in the back and just power through the climbs the entire time. The climbs are relatively short (as are the descents), but are long enough to provide a good workout. Wow, I got completely off track there. Back to the ride: once I'd climbed to the top of Spring, I decided to change up my route a bit and dropped down Rodeo rather than continue on around Spring. It is at this location (part way down Rodeo) where I decided I had to pull out the trusty iPhone and take some pictures. I have to say, Lambert (LIKE EVERY OTHER TRAIL IN UTAH), is best in the Fall. I mean, seriously, crap-your-pants so good that I actually have to stop mid way through my descents and take a picture so I can show The Wife 'what I actually see out there.' Behold:

Right near the top of Rodeo--I really like to take pictures of bridges for some reason?

Honestly, no seriously, honestly, can riding a bike get any better?

My trusty steed is saying to me, "Please oh please ride me through the beautiful red leaves. I won't give you any mechanicals for at least a month if you do!" Weird, right? What sort of bike barters?

Actually, right before I took this picture, I had a sudden urge to pee, and since no one else seemed to be out on the trail, I took the liberty of relieving myself. Quite pleasant. Good thing I'm a shameful pee-er (peer? peeer?) and like to finish up quickly because within a few seconds, some guy came zipping down, and I had to quickly move out of the way (I normally hate people who just rest on the trail, but I figured I wouldn't see another soul--my bad!).

After an awesome descent down Rodeo, I hooked up with Rodeo Up (original, I know) and climbed back up to Middle Spring where I chose to continue on around Spring. Quick aside: Middle Spring is the coolest part of Lambert; and by cool, I mean the most vegetation. The little stream runs right by Middle and there are a good number of maples and other trees on the first part of the climb that almost make you forget where you are. Also, when Fall comes, you end up riding on a bed of bright yellow leaves on the trail. Painful, I know!

After awhile, all of the leaves sort of get boring. Oh wait, that's not right. What I meant to say was: after awhile, the leaves just keep making a great ride even better. Yeah, that's right.

In addition to the beautiful foliage (I really sound like a Nancy-boy in this post, but it really is that amazing to be out there), Lambert was also sporting awesome trail conditions. The rain had given Lambert's trails 'hero dirt' status. Usually, the downhill on Spring is only 'meh' because speed control is a necessity as you'll washout if you go too quickly. But the rain had firmed up the trails and it was a blast carving the edges and zipping around the corners.

After the quick descent down Spring, I hooked back up with Rodeo, climbed a bit to reach the Rodeo Up / Down split, dropped down Rodeo again (awesome), hooked up with Middle, transitioned to Ruin, then reconnected with Poppy / Middle (I can never remember where it spits me out), then climbed up Black Dog which connected back up with Corkscrew and took me back to where I started. If all of these trail names / locations are confusing to you, they are just as confusing to me. I have spent hours and hours at Lambert--and though the signage is great--I still get lost. Well, I'm terrible with directions too.

Forebode: ominous clouds above the mountains right south of Lambert

As I was finishing up my ride home, I could definitely tell that the weather was changing. The sun was gone, the wind had picked up and the temperature had dropped significantly. Right when I pulled into my driveway it began to lightly rain. I quickly hosed off my bike (a little muddy of course) and got inside. I had timed that ride perfectly. And to be perfectly honest, I don't think I could have enjoyed a better 1.5 hour ride if I'd tried. Thank you Lambert for all of your trail-y goodness (sans horse poop).

Last view before I hit the road and get home. Not bad, eh?

Pole Line Pass, Part II: Retribution

Part I: I get beat down hard

A few years ago I figured I would venture beyond my 'comfort zone' trails up AF Canyon (SFLDC, Salamander Flat, south section of Ridge 157) and check out what the north had to offer. Since riding Ridge Trail 157 in the 'northern-ly' direction is a lot of hike-a-bike (re: not fun), I figured I'd take the dirt road up to Pole Line Pass then come down Ridge, and end up at Tibble Fork. It was in the Fall (late September-ish) and I was actually going to be meeting some friends at "Hell's Cave" that evening--why not get in a ride first?!?. (Hell's Cave is a little rock climbing area just a mile or so past the Timpanogos Cave visitor's center up the canyon.)

I started my ride at Tibble Fork and began the arduous journey up the North Fork AF dirt road (it is only a road in the loosest sense of the word). As my climb continued, the temperature began to drop rapidly and the clouds began to move in. "No worries," I thought to myself. "I'll make it to the top here in a bit and bomb quickly down to my car!" Curse my bike-related hubris!

Never in my mind would have I thought that the torrential rain that began to fall upon me as I passed Dutchman Flat would turn to--yes, wait for it--snow. It was only late September for crying out loud. Interesting aside: the entire climb, I came across one other person who was driving a truck up to Dutchman--it was this solitude that made me realize that climbing my bike during an early snowstorm at 8000+ elevation in nothing but my Nancy-boy lycra shorts and jersey could turn into a serious problem.

The one thing I knew then was I didn't make it up to Pole Line Pass. What I didn't know, though, was WHERE I'd made it. The snow sent me back down the road faster than an old man sending back soup in a deli (analogy lifted without permission from Seinfeld).

As the snow / sleet / rain / wrath of God pounded me on the descent, the only thing I could think of was getting back to my trusty WRX and eat whatever food I had left in the car. Another interesting aside: riding through heavy rain and snow going downhill without glasses becomes increasingly difficult as your eyes somehow cease functioning. What fun!

At long last, I made it back to Tibble Fork--freezing, miserable, and completely soaked through. I chucked my trusted Enduro onto the roof rack, jumped in the car and wrapped myself in a towel that for some reason I had put in the car (first time I'd ever been prepared for something).

If I recall correctly, I had a banana and a Clif Bar (don't remember which kind, though they all taste like cardboard anyway) and wolfed those down while blasting the heat in my car. I dried off as much as possible, changed into non-cycling clothes and proceeded down the canyon a ways to meet up with my friends for a 'fun filled' evening at Hell's Cave (remember, it had rained / snowed earlier?!?!).

What drives me to do such reckless biking? Pole Line Pass: 1. Me: 0.

Part II: Retribution

Having recalled that painful memory now brings me to the present day: I wanted to try the climb to Pole Line Pass again and redeem myself. Let's also not forget the fact that it is Fall here in Utah and the colors and riding conditions of AF Canyon are spectacular.

Thus, I set out from Tibble Fork on my bike (now on a Specialized Epic as I have put my Enduro in semi-retirement) and began the climb up to Pole Line Pass. The conditions, surprisingly, were somewhat warm for this time of year, due in part to the fact that I had started my ride around noon. Regardless, I was definitely enjoying the climb--not too steep, somewhat technical in places, and not too many motorists were zipping by me. Oh, did I mention the colors?

Starting my ride at Tibble Fork. Literally 15 minutes from my front door to the lake. Yes, I made a conscious decision where I would live.

This is on the road up to PLP right after the fork in the road that I would have taken me to Mineral Basin (I'll be heading up that way some time in the future)

Pleasant weather, beautiful views, solitude up the canyon--rough, I know

After riding for about an hour and 15 minutes, I reached Pole Line Pass. To be honest, it was somewhat anticlimactic seeing as it really isn't THAT difficult of a climb and it's just a spot in the AF Canyon network. But the views were still nice. Oh, and it wasn't snowing this time. Bonus! Pole Line Pass: 1. Me: 1.

Victory

Look, a TREE!

Not wanting to end my climb there, I continued on to Ant Knolls. A very nice rolling climb that eventually terminates at a fork where I could drop down to Midway (it's amazing to me where mountain biking takes me to). The views from Ant Knolls were awesome, the trail was in great shape and I was having a blast. I'm definitely glad my first ride to Pole Line Pass didn't sour my whole opinion of the area because this type of riding is simply epic.

Looking over to Mineral Basin--you can see Snowbird's lifts up on the ridge line in the middle of the picture

I know, I know, it IS rough riding up in the pines with perfect weather

Looking down into Midway from the end of Ant Knolls

After a quick downhill back to PLP from Ant Knolls, I knocked down my PB&J and some craisins. I was ready to roll! After my miles and miles of climbing, I was ready to enjoy the fruits of my labor! Little did I know, I was sorely mistaken as I still had plenty more climbing to get out of the way first. Bah!

I understood Pole Line Pass to be essentially the apex of my climb. Pole Line my butt. More like, 'You're-Up-High, But-Not-High-Enough Pass.' So my climb up Ridge Trail 157 to Forest Lake ensued.

Now, don't get me wrong, I love climbing, but this next section is chock full of hike a bike sections--loose, torn up trail, boulders, UBER steep climbs, etc. I was still enjoying the ride, but was definitely looking forward to getting to the top of the climb so I could enjoy some much deserved downhill. At one point, I crossed paths with a moto and he told me that up ahead were a couple other mountain bikers. (Somewhat interesting as not too many bikes actually venture out to this section of AF Canyon.)

As I kept pushing along to the trail above Forest Lake, I eventually came upon the two mountain bikers (a husband and wife, presumably). I had actually passed these two just a few minutes outside of Tibble Fork on the climb up the North Fork AF Canyon road. They had passed me at the Ant Knolls detour because they went straight from Pole Line Pass to Ridge 157. They started their ride in the Cascade Springs area--definitely an epic ride. Anyhow, we chatted for a bit as we were pushing our bikes up to the top pass area above Forest Lake and once reaching there, I bid them adieu and took off down Ridge. (Well, I took off for 50 yards, then stopped because the trail forked and I wasn't sure which part was Ridge 157--thankfully the guy pointed me in the right direction and I was back on my way. Thanks dood!)

Panoramic view above Forest Lake

I thought about taking a dip in the lake, but realized that I'd have to climb back out of the valley--no thanks!

The next section of Ridge Trail is VERY loose, VERY rocky, and VERY steep. Impossible to climb on a mountain bike and just as painful to descend. I simply threw my butt off the back of my seat, lightly feathered my brakes, and tried to choose lines that wouldn't have me launching over my handlebars. Although the Epic is a full suspension bike, it is XC at its core--both in geometry as well as travel. So I was definitely happy to make it to Mill Canyon springs as my hands were aching and my back was definitely feeling the bumps.

At Mill Canyon Springs, the grade of Ridge Trail becomes much more reasonable and the trail isn't nearly as technical; read: cruising downhill with great flow. As I continued on Ridge, I was seriously questioning whether I'd throw in a SFLDC loop to my ride since I was feeling tired by this point and I'd been out for ~3 hours. Once I made it to the 4 way (Ridge Trail, SFLDC, and Tibble Fork), I made an executive decision to add a bit of the Mud Springs Loop onto my ride and fore-go the SFLDC loop (don't worry my favorite trail, I'd be back!).

I must confess: I wasn't really looking forward to the Tibble Fork downhill. I had taken it once before several months ago and actually STOPPED half way down and climbed up Mud Springs because I wasn't having fun. I don't mind technical, steep downhill, but I just wasn't enjoying it. But I was willing to give it another chance.

After climbing up Mud Springs I began my descent which eventually hooks up with Tibble. As I continued my descent I realized a couple things: 1. I was having a blast. 2. I missed the best part of the descent when I turned around last time. I immediately prayed to the mountain biking gods to forgive me my trespasses against them and continued down to my car. It. Was. Awesome. Tibble Fork is top notch in the Fall with the leaves changing. Don't believe me? Look.

Crap-your-pants delicious trail riding; I now love Tibble Fork

I made it to the car exhausted, but thoroughly happy with my day. I had conquered Pole Line Pass and had a great ride, exploring several trails I had never ridden before. Definitely a great day.

Ride statistics: Riding time - 3:31; Distance - ~26 miles; Climbing - ~4200. Fun factor - extreme.

I'll definitely be doing these trails again.

Why I Live Where I Live

When I found out that I'd be heading back to Utah for a new job after spending two years in Dallas working as a consultant, I had to think for about two seconds where I wanted to live. And that place was American Fork Canyon. Now, I knew I couldn't live IN the canyon, but I knew that I wanted to live as close to it as possible, for the singletrack goodness associated with AF Canyon and the surrounding trails is not found anywhere else (at least that I have found; Park City takes a close 2nd, but alas, it is still 2nd).

Now, some of you may ask, "Why the obsession with AF Canyon? Motos are allowed up there, horses poop all over the trails, and the singletrack riding can't be THAT great." Sorry, you're wrong. Though problems do arise with AF Canyon having multi-use trails, it is generally not too big of an issue--in fact, I have found that recently, most trail users are trying to be as courteous as possible when coming across other people. There are inevitably some bad apples in the mix, but I figure if we can find a way to all get along, we'll all be happier. (See? I'm not a complete douche all the time).

With all this lovin' I'm throwing at AF Canyon, you'd think that it couldn't get any better. Wrong again. It actually gets much, MUCH better.

Would you like to know what's better than riding in AF Canyon during the summertime? ... ... ...

Riding during Autumn (or Fall if you'd prefer).

There. The cat's out of the bag. Riding up AF Canyon (even road riding!!!) is crap-your-pants deliciously good during September, October, and even sometimes November. The temperatures cool down, the leaves change, and fewer people use the trails. When riding in or around AF Canyon during the Autumn months, a state of nirvana is achieved in which there is no more suffering, all discontent is gone, and a state of pure happiness occurs. (In my nirvana, you CAN be happy--FYI for all those people out there who actually know what nirvana is.)

Many of you may be thinking, "No place can be this great. chickenpig is a loony. (I mean, who calls himself chickenpig for starters?) AF Canyon must have some neat trails, but I'm skeptical of his audacious claims."

Ok, ok, ok. Point taken. For me, seeing is believing, so for all of you skeptics out there not fully comprehending the magnitude of what I am saying, I give you, the golden goodness of what I encountered on my ride this last Saturday.

(As a note, these pictures are taken on the west side of Timpanogos up Grove Creek and from Great Western Trail 151. I will definitely be providing some pictures of the best 13 miles of singletrack in the world--Salamander Flat + AF Overlook + South Fork Little Deer Creek--in the coming weeks, but only if I can bring myself to stop and take a picture.)

Enjoy. And be jealous.

Heading up Grove Creek--changing colors, buff singletrack, can it get any better? Actually, it can. Grove Creek sucks rocks (literally). But the pain is worth it for the views.

Yay. A bridge.

I assume seeing these pictures is like being on ecstasy or some other form of illegal drug.

More yummy goodness.

It was at this point that I prayed to the Tree Gods to take me now, as I knew what their heaven is like. They didn't take me.

A little 360 degree action of where I ventured.

FYI--these pictures are just a smattering of how great the riding up AF Canyon truly is. Get out and ride!

Mt. Ogden 100K

I don't know what drives me to keep waking up at insane hours on Saturday mornings. Last week was a 50 mile, 8500 ft elevation ride (woke up at 4:00 AM), and yesterday was 3:45 AM to prepare / travel to Snowbasin Resort for the Mt. Ogden 100K bike race. Sadly, the pain associated with waking up early was only the beginning for me as I finally experienced my first endurance bike race.

Since I have been doing plenty of riding this season and did the RAT King last week (Ride Around Timpanogos--the King suffix is there to simply stroke my ego--I make the RAT a lariat loop by starting at my house, riding to / from the trail head and adding Grove Creek to it), I was feeling very confident in my abilities to knock out the Mt. Ogden 100K. The course is two 50K laps with approximately 5000 feet of climbing per lap. Having ridden part of the course several weeks ago at the Intermountain Cup Race at Snowbasin, I knew the type of riding to expect--very rocky, not too steep, but very fun. I was psyched.

Aside from narrowly missing running over a skunk on the drive up Ogden Canyon, the trip to Snowbasin was rather uneventful. The Wife and I rolled into the Snowbasin parking lot at 5:30 AM and everything was still completely dark with few cars in the parking lot. I was a bit surprised as registration was supposed to end at 6:15 with the race starting at 7:00. Oh well--early bird means no lines. Yes, no lines, but because I'm a doofus, I originally registered at the volunteer table before realizing my error. Oops.

After completing a few pre-race preparations (namely, taking four dumps in the glorious Snowbasin private bathrooms--don't be grossed out, EVERY racer does this) I checked my tire PSI to make sure it was just where I wanted it--it was a little high, so I let some out. I let too much out. No worries, I'll just pump it back up to the 27 PSI I wanted. I got out my pump, and the presta adapter was broken. Wonderful. Thankfully, I bummed a pump off a fellow rider, but over inflated my tires. Over inflating my tires alone equated to a LOT of pain during the 2nd lap. More on this later.

I dawdled after the pre-race meeting so I just barely made it to the starting line as the Pros took off. Thirty seconds later, my group took off with the resounding 'boom' from the shotgun.

Race conditions were practically perfect. It had rained the night before so the trail was very buff / tacky with practically no dust. The lower section of the first lap was a bit muddy, but had dried nicely by lap #2. It was generally cloudy with a nice breeze throughout the first lap of the race, so the weather definitely cooperated for the start. I got into my cadence quickly, and I was passing several riders very early in the race. I made a mental note to pace myself as I knew this wasn't going to be a 1-2 hour ride--6+ hours pushing it would definitely kill me. After the initial shakeout, we were greeted with some quick downhill, after which the real climb began. This climb was actually quite nice, and I continued to keep a good pace--passing all but 6-8 non-Pro men. It was at this point where I made my one wrong turn of the day that cost me ~1 minute. Ironically, the fellow racer who followed me was the same guy with whom I crossed the finish line at the end. Did I use ironically correctly? Was that even ironic? I don't want to say something is ironic when it isn't. People tend to do that (I'm apparently one of them). Update: it wasn't ironic. It was coincidental. Kudos to The Wife for pointing that out.

After getting back on the main course, I continued my climb up into the nether regions of the Snowbasin resort where the wind grew strong, the trees grew scarce, and the course became ever more rocky. No worries though--I was still fresh, eating / drinking calories at good intervals and I felt good. An aside: do NOT eat peanut butter sandwich crackers on an endurance (or ANY) ride. I ended up chewing half of the plastic wrapper as I was trying to get them out, and because the crackers are so dry, with every breath I would wheeze out half of the remaining crackers in my mouth. Oh, don't eat Chocolate Brownie Clif Bars either, those are gross too. Free advice.

When I reached the top I knew I had several guys ahead of me in my category who I wanted to catch in the downhill section of lap #1. As I began the descent, I quickly passed a singlespeed rider who was very gracious and let me pass (more on him later). I felt very good on the downhill, which seemed to last forever, but I never caught the wheel of any of the riders ahead of me. I was a bit surprised as I am pretty good on the downhill sections and figured I could make up some time. Oh well. I was down at the bottom of Art Nord?!? (I don't know the course names well) and had some climbing to do to get back up to the starting line. This climb wasn't too bad, and I kept a pretty good clip to get up to the starting line / feed zone. I rolled in to the feed zone where The Wife was cheering me on as I briefly breezed past her to refill my bottles.

After a quick refill, I headed over to The Wife to send the remaining peanut butter crackers in my jersey back from whence they came and to get a banana / Clif Bar for the 2nd lap. The first words out of her mouth were "You have a massive booger hanging out of your nose." And that I did. When I ride hard, I generally don't care too much about my physical appearance--very frequently I have snot running down my nose, drool coming out of my mouth, and my teeth are covered with dirt. No biggie--I'm a hard core rider. But this dangling modifier out of my big nose was definitely embarrassing. But no time to worry about that! I had just noticed two of the racers with whom I had been jockeying for position on the uphill roll into the feed zone. I gotta split! (I didn't even say good bye to The Wife or anything I found out later. Oops.)

With temperatures rising as the sun came out, I wanted to get through lap #2 as quickly as possible. Sadly, I was beginning to feel the effects of riding 3+ hours already. The second climb up to the top of Snowbasin was definitely not as fun as the first. My body was aching, I could feel fatigue setting in, and the two guys who had caught up to me at the feed zone were on my tail. Drat.

For the next hour+ I exchanged positions with a few different riders as we each had our own moments of energy during the brutal climb. As we neared the top, I had re-overtaken 'American Flag Jersey Guy' but 'Autoliv Guy' (who seemed to come out of nowhere) passed me quite easily. Oh, and that singlespeed guy from earlier? He was happy to jump on my wheel for the remaining climb as he knew I'd pass him again on the downhill.

At the top, I had the first jump on the downhill as 'Autoliv' guy seemed to be dropping his seat post down for the long descent (probably was a good idea). It didn't take long for me to realize I was in serious pain, however. I had tightened my Sidis a bit TOO tightly at the get-go and the extended downhill was wreaking havoc on the outside of my soles. Over inflating my tires also came into effect here as I felt every little bump and rock on the trail (so much for a full suspension bike, bah). Downhill #2 was the most agonizing part of the race. Trails I would normally bomb down I had to gingerly maneuver my way through. 'Autoliv Guy' passed me easily. I had to frequently unclip from my pedals to try to stretch out my feet so as to alleviate the pain. Chock this up to an inexperienced racer.

At LAST, I had made it to the water station near the bottom of the downhill in which my foot pain could be numbed down by my general fatigue as I began the long climb back up to the finish. The day had finally become warm enough to become uncomfortable and this section of the trail doesn't have very much coverage, so I was hot, tired, and very achy, especially with each pedal stroke. Lo and behold, 'American Flag Jersey Guy' passes me as I am slowly making my way up the trail. His pace isn't much faster than mine, but enough to make me realize how slow I am going. Then comes the singlespeeder--he cruises past me on the trail like I'm not even moving. Definite kudos to him for doing the ride and having that much energy at the end. As I reached the pavement for the last ~2 miles back to the finish, the only thought in my mind was, "I don't care what my time is, I just want to finish. This is terrible." I look behind me and recognize 'Orange Jersey Guy' (he's the one who followed me on the wrong trail) closing the gap between us. I don't care. Let him beat me!

As it turns out, he catches up to me and we just hold the same consistent pace for the last little bit, chatting as we make that last push to the finish. I really like 'Orange Jersey Guy.' He mentions before we get to the finish line that we will likely make it under 6 hours. I really don't care at that point, but that seemed nice. As we rolled in to the finish line, we see the official time: 6:01:xx. Drat--we didn't make it under six hours, but hey, I survived, and that is what mattered.

I got my finisher's glass, ate a few orange slices, and walked gingerly to my cheering wife. I was done. Thank Jeebus, Buddha, the Flying Spaghetti Monster, and all other omnipotent beings for that.

Overall, I had a great time, learned a lot, and will definitely be doing more endurance races in the future, but I am glad that my trial-by-fire 'Ogden 100K' bike race is now in the archives.

6:01:43 finish time and 7th place out of all open men isn't bad either.

Don't be fooled by the smile, I was in serious pain.

The RAT King

Prologue: Contrary to popular belief, the RAT King is not an intertwined group of rodents that become an entity with great, sewer-based powers as '30 Rock' would have us believe. It is my own version of the RAT (Ride Around Timpanogos) that Gregg Bromka highlighted in his mountain biking book several years ago. I add the 'King' suffix to simply highlight how much more amazing and difficult the version I do is. (If I can't self-aggrandize in a blog, where else am I going to get a boost for my self-esteem?) How much more difficult is the RAT King than the RAT you ask? Keep reading to find out.

The ride: Since I'd already done a RAT in July, I knew that if I were to do it again this year, I wanted to up the ante a bit. Thankfully, Bill and Kerry were looking to do a RAT and were willing to toss in a little Grove Creek action to add some miles and vertical to the ride. So, we set the day for August 21st with a start time of 5:00 AM at the Grove Creek trailhead. So, bright and early at 4:00 AM I woke up, downed some cereal, packed up my Camelbak and headed out the door. My original plan was to ride from my house to the GC trailhead, which is about 4.5 miles of dirt / gravel access road, but as it turned out, the moon wasn't out that morning so it was PITCH black. And since I don't have any bike / helmet lights, I had to wake up The Wife to drive me to the trailhead. Nuts.

There, Bill and Kerry were finishing up some last minute tweaks for their rides as I rolled up. Like every group ride with a new face (or at least with someone you haven't ridden with for awhile) the first step is to look over their bike, pick it up to see how much it weighs, ask about components, etc. After we'd gotten the 'measuring ourselves' part of the ride over with, it was time to strap on the lights and go. (Bill brought an extra light for me to borrow for the ride up GC.)

For being the coldest part of the day, the weather was unusually warm that morning and I was hoping it wouldn't heat up too much more as the heat can definitely make a ride unbearable. As we began riding up GC though, the temperatures dropped, a cool breeze started up, and it was all good. Whew.

Having never ridden GC before and knowing that it is a fairly precarious ride (read: vertical cliffs, plenty of difficult terrain, shale, roots, and a steep grade for climbing), I knew that doing it in the dark with a bike light would definitely be quite an experience. The initial part of the ride was actually quite pleasant as Bill and I did a bit of extra exploring up in the foothills before the steep / precarious portion of the ride began. Once we caught back up to Kerry, I carefully made my way up to the bridge crossing the creek with only a couple short sections of hike-a-bike--I promised The Wife that I'd be very careful on this ride and not kill myself. THAT'S the only reason I walked those sections. I promise. Bill, however, has the mentality of Bear Grylls because every time I looked back, he was plodding along the trail, never dabbing or walking even the most difficult parts.

Once I crossed the bridge, the 'fall-and-die' section of the trail was done, but it simply opened up to the 'steep-and-loose-covered-with-stinging-nettle' part of the trail. Oh joy! As we found out later, Kerry was sick, so I took off ahead as Bill hung back around the Indian Springs campground to wait. Once I hit the intersection of the GC trail and the Timp Perimeter trail, I did a little extra climbing up to Timpooneke Road then bombed back down to catch up to Bill and Kerry. By now it had been 1.5 hours of trail time and we had a long day ahead of us, so when I saw Bill coming up the trail I simply told him: "I have a pregnant wife at home who expects me home at a reasonable hour, so I'm gonna have to go on ahead." He was fine with that and so I wished him luck and took off.

After the climb up GC, the light was cresting over Timp and one of the beefiest climbs of the ride lay ahead of me--Big Baldy. Normally, with the RAT, Big Baldy is the last big climb before a drop down into Provo Canyon and the end at Canyon Glen. But by starting at Grove Creek, I attacked Big Baldy with a fresh set of legs and very cool temperatures. Though it still required a good deal of granny gear climbing, I only had to walk for about 10-20 feet on a loose rocky section, and I actually cleared the last very steep pitch right up before the saddle. That was the highlight of the day for me--I never would have thought I could ride that without spinning out.

Yeah, I know, the views on Baldy aren't great, but what can you do?

Since it was early in the ride, I didn't savor the accomplishment of conquering Big Baldy and quickly bombed down Dry Canyon for a short while, then took a hard left to take a more enjoyable (though still very technical) route down to Canyon Glen in Provo Canyon. Since I had fresh legs for this section of the ride, I found that I thoroughly enjoyed the technical, rooty, steep single track, which eventually mellows out and allows for some fun riding before reaching the beloved 'altar' up in the foothills above Orem (and no, I don't know any of the names / numbers of these trails because they are all so confusing).

Don't forget to make a sacrifice of a Clif Bar and bottle of Gatorade

at the altar on the way down, so as to not anger the biking Gods

Once I reached the main access road after bombing down the remainder of the trails at the mouth of the canyon, I made my way over to the Provo Canyon Race Loop and did a quick lap for old times' sake. (PCRL was where I began my love affair with mountain biking after I got my '03 S-Works Enduro.) After that, It was a quick roll over to Canyon Glen for my first stop of the day.

PB&J and goldfish--breakfast of champions

After a quick carbo intake, I was off on the most awful, terrible, and boring part of the ride... Pavement. 9.3 miles of it. In reality, it's not THAT bad as the initial part is on the Provo River Parkway, then a quick ride up Provo Canyon, taking a left up the North Fork on the way to Sundance. Having done this ride several times on a road bike, I can say that I definitely enjoy having the mountain bike gearing when I want to wimp out and take it easy on the climbs. I usually knock out the pavement first thing on the RAT, so having a lot of elevation / miles under my belt made the climb a bit more tedious, but not unbearable.

After finally making it up the pavement I began the climb up the Aspen Grove trail up to the Summit of AF Canyon.

This brings me back--Theater in the Pines (right by the Aspen Grove trailhead)

The underground cavern of this thing has bats and smells like carrot sticks

The initial climb up Aspen Grove is loose, VERY rocky, and not too fun. But don't cry too much sissies, as the trail eventually becomes quite buff, still technical, but with very dense foliage and great views and is a blast to ride. Reaching the Summit Trailhead of AF Canyon at this point on the ride is a bit of a misnomer as I had a short (albeit, very fun) descent down the Salamander Flat trail to Timpooneke Campground where the pain of the day for me ultimately began.

At Timpooneke, I took a quick break, refilled my Camelbak, and filled up my water bottle which had about 5 scoops of Gatorade in it. (I call this ultra concentrated version of Gatorade, 'Superade' and am currently in the process of getting that trademarked--patent pending.) The Superade is as sweet as your mommy's loving kisses and is twice as potent. I highly recommend washing it down with some water after consuming.

Surprise, surprise, the Timpooneke parking lot is jam-packed full and it's still early morning... At least I didn't have to find a parking spot for my bike

After downing a bag of Craisins and a Clif Bar I was ready to head up to Julie Andrews Meadow. (Craisins, by the way, have to be one of the tastiest trail-side snacks I have ever had. I highly recommend taking some on your next ride. Ocean Spray is paying me to say that.)

When I did the RAT several weeks ago, the climb up to JAM wasn't terrible--it was still very early in the morning and the trail was in OK shape--still plenty of hike-a-bike sections, but nothing too terrible. Well, give the trail a couple weeks without any rain, add in a lot more heat, and the climb up to JAM this go around was much more difficult. Not to mention the fact that I'd already ridden 25 - 30 miles with a buttload of climbing. I definitely chose to hike my bike on many more sections than I had previously done. But after tears, sweat, and more tears, I finally crested that sucker and broke out into a song from The Sound of Music. Oh wait, no I didn't, I sobbed like a little pansy out of happiness for having that section of the ride over with.

Julie Andrews is definitely a beautiful seductress, but she makes you

work extra hard if you want to ride her (innuendo intentional)

Having experienced Julie Andrews twice in a single month, I was ready to move on and continue my trek around Timpanogos. After a quick drop down to Timpanooke road then a fun little downhill section below the cirque on the south side of Timp, I was back to climbing back up to where I would intersect Timpooneke Road again.

Not all sections of the Timp Perimeter trail sucked: look at this--

buff single track through the pines with little green plants growing on the ground!

I generally don't pay attention to this stuff, but I was riding so slowly, I had time to take in my surroundings

View looking up at the cirque on the south side of Timp (maybe not

'the' cirque but 'a' cirque?) I don't know if there's more than one

Timpooneke Road is on the left side of the picture right below all of the shale

The climb out of the bottom of Rock Canyon isn't too difficult, but this far into the ride, I was definitely feeling the burn in my quads (and heat of the day) as I was trying to get back to the Timpooneke Road and the last big climb of the ride. Upon reaching Timpooneke Road, I took one look at the climb ahead of me and realized: "There is no way you can climb that. It is too steep. Too loose. Too rocky. And you are a tired wimp. Get ready to hike." And so I did. A few times I was able to granny gear it up a few sections of the trail, but for the most part, I was fine with pushing my bike up the difficult terrain in my little fairy mountain biking shoes (I put 3 years of wear onto those Sidis during this one ride). The nice part about this last part of the Great Western Trail (151) is that the initial part is so steep the remaining climb is nearly flat. So it's easy rolling until you FINALLY come around the bend around the south side of Timp and are welcomed with the most beautiful sight: Utah Valley below, and plenty of fast singletrack ahead with no one in sight. Bliss. Enjoy the pictures--this section of the ride is just amazing (and having it come at the end made it even better).

Handel himself couldn't have anticipated the 'Hallelujah' that comes from

cresting this section of the trail. Utah Valley is down below on the right.

Miles upon miles of beautiful fields and trails with nary a soul in sight

Oh, and did I mention the singletrack? Through a field of wild flowers? With birds singing beautiful songs? And deer joyfully bounding around you? Yes, it's that magical. (Ok. Some of that was embellished.)

After gleefully (yes, gleefully) bombing through those 'magical' fields on the fast, flowy single track I breezed past the last trail 151 marker where I intersect Timpooneke Road for the last time.

If you look carefully the trail sign reads:

"Here be great singletrack ahead, but beware the great Big Baldy in the distance."

Ok, that was lame, but I'm keeping it because I don't have any other witty subtitles for this picture.

A quick drop down 151 with a sharp right where Grove Creek intersects the trail meant that I was nearing the end of my epic ride. I can say that Grove Creek was much more enjoyable in the light of day and I only had one 3 foot section that I chose to dismount and walk rather than risk my life (Bill probably bunny hopped that section). The drop down GC was extremely fast (and hot as I was nearing the worst part of the day) and I was happy to get down to the trailhead quickly. By now, I was ready to be done with the ride, but alas, I wanted to make the RAT a TRUE King, so I had 4.5 miles of access road to traverse before I was home. A few short climbs / descents on the way home, but pretty much flat for the entire way meant that I was able to survive this last little leg.

The Epilogue: Total miles for the day: ~50. Total elevation: ~8500. Hours riding: 6.5. Me: 1, Timpanogos: 0. But who's really keeping score? I found out later from Kerry that he was sick that day and actually made it all the way to Bridal Veil Falls before turning around and heading back to his car at GC. Bill did the full ride (throwing in a quick loop on SFLDC just because--made me jealous). All in all, a great ride that I will definitely do again. Next time I'm going to wear hiking shoes though, because I think it will make me faster on at least 50% of the trails.