The Colorado Trail Race......The most bi-polar event, Ever.

***WARNING***
This is my longest post ever, so you may want to stop everything you are doing for the next 10-15 minutes so you can give your full attention to the lilting poetry that is my description of the Colorado trail race.........HA!

As most of you know, I have been preparing to ride in the Colorado Trail race for almost a year now.  Well, it is over, and I can easily say it is the hardest thing I have ever done.  The planning for me started  about a year ago this weekend, when I decided to ride my bike to see my family in NH.  I packed up my bike with everything I thought I would need and I set out, riding 100 miles the first day, and 50 the next.  I enjoyed it enough that I decided I would do the CTR the following summer.  I prepared over the winter by riding my bike indoors, which is only slightly less boring than filling out tax forms.  I also skied as much as I could, and did some winter camping.  One of the best parts of doing the CTR is all the cool new gear you get to buy; I bought a new GPS, bike bags, clothing, several bivy sacks, and all sorts of other goodies.  After a low snow year, we were able to camp early and often to try out our bike kits, and in the end my kit looked like this:

I won't go through and label everything, but you can probably tell that there is a lot of stuff there to pack onto a bicycle, but not a lot of stuff for spending 5-6 nights outdoors.

I packed, unpacked, repacked, unpacked again and then repacked several times to make sure I had everything I would need and nothing I didn't.  Then my wife dropped me off at the airport, and I was on my way.  A few months before I had met a nice man on the internet who said I could stay at his house......I know, stranger danger, but he seemed very nice, and it turned out that he has had people stay at his house, which is only a 10 minute ride from the start of the race, for the past 3 years.  Andy (my internet friend) and his wife Sandy were extremely accommodating.  They have a garage full of bike tools, they cooked us all (there were 6 racers staying at their house) a big spaghetti dinner, and Andy even rode the first two days of the race.  Andy had finished the CTR a few years before, and he was answering questions all night from the 6 rookies that were staying at his house.

It seemed like everyone had to check everything on their bikes 20 times, make sure they packed all their secret weapons which would get them to Durango.  At around 9 I had enough, so I went to bed.  Everyone was up the next morning at 4:15 to eat breakfast (again, graciously provided by Andy and Sandy) and then ride to the start.


MONDAY

To say that there was some tension in the air at the start wouldn't do the overall mood any justice.  It was similar to what cows must feel like when they wait in line at the slaughterhouse.  There were a lot of people there, everyone milling around joking and trying to ease the tension.  At six-twenty-something, Stefan, the mastermind behind the torture that is the CTR, gave a short speech and then had everyone line up.  He counted down to the start, and everyone paused for a moment, waiting for everyone else to go once it was time.  The start was dirt road that led to a single track climb, and then we spent the rest of the morning on singletrack that rose and fell through several valleys.  It was beautiful but everyone was moving so fast that no one wanted to stop and take pictures.  We hit Bailey, Co. around noon and stopped to refuel.  I was a bit overwhelmed by my first resupply, and I only bought a sandwich (if you can call it that) a banana, a gatorade and two payday bars.  I ate a bit and then was off up the highway to kenosha pass.  There was bit of weather (a downpour with hail and about an inch of rain falling) which got everyone nice and wet for the remainder of the day.  The first day was more than a roller coaster of emotions.  It was more like the ride where you are pulled up, up, up, up, only to be plunged down, pulled back up, down again, back up, down, etc. etc.   One moment you are riding buffed out, flowy downhill singletrack, and then next your are pushing your bike up an awful hiking trail at 10,000 feet wishing you were anywhere else.  It was hard to feel bad for long though, because the scenery all along the trail is so breathtaking that all you have to do is stop and look around to cheer up a bit.

Day one, for me, ended just ahead of Breckenridge about 95 miles into the course.  After crossing a ridge at about 10,000 in a massive thunderstorm and feeling like I almost got hit by lightning, I rode down the ridge until I found a flat spot and set up camp for the night.  The combination of being soaked and riding the downhill as fast as I could made me rather hypothermic.  So much so that I could barely hold the brake levers towards the end of the ride.  I slept fitfully from around 9:30 until 4 the next morning, when I packed up and headed down the start of the next segment, Goldhill.

TUESDAY

Goldhill was a nice way to start the day; some riding but mostly hiking my bike up over the Tenmile range (around 12,000 feet) When I say hiking my bike, I mean just that.  The trail went straight up at some points, and I had some choice words for my bike and the silly Colorado trails that we were on.  But, the views at the top made everything better.

I was in Copper around 11 and I stopped for lunch, which consisted of two breakfast burritos and an Americano.  I felt pretty beat after the first day and the storms and lack of sleep, but the food helped me over Kokomo pass.  The whole way up I was singing "Aruba, Jamaica, ooh, I wanna take ya'" which was not helping my mental state.  I thought that Leadville was soon after the pass, but there was a lot of single track in the direct sunlight that I had to deal with before I got into town.  I was not feeling well and the sun had sapped most of my remaining energy.  I walked a lot of hills and was dragging my feet until I met up with Alan from England.  He said he was having a hard day as well, so I asked if he wanted company on the ride into Leadville, and he said "Sure."  We made it to Leadville, go some of the slowest made Mexican food ever.  I ordered one plate of enchiladas, and Alan order two veggie burritos and a salad.  He said he likes to eat like an American when he is in the states.  I realized then that I was not eating nearly enough food, and that was most likely why my legs felt like bags of sand.   We finished up dinner and looked out the window to see a lot of dark clouds above the route we were going to take.  I convinced Alan to share a hotel room, where we washed our clothes and showered and I recovered from my lack of food and sleep.  I was asleep by seven and up and riding the next day by four.

WEDNESDAY

Day three had some of the best singletrack of the whole trip.  It wasn't scenic alpine singletrack, but it was fast and fun and had some great scenery in its own right.  I left a little before Alan who was still getting stuff ready, and we thought that we would see each other on the flat road section at the start of the segment, since he had gears and I was on my singlespeed.  I made it to Buena Vista around 10:30, where I immediately put my new nutrition plan into effect.

 Bacon and Avocado omelette with hash browns and toast, and a breakfast burrito to go.  After gorging myself, I went to the supermarket to supply for the next two days.  After Buena vista there are few chances to resupply, so everyone was at the City Market stocking up on goodies that, hopefully, would be enough to get them to Silverton, almost 200 miles away.  I purchased $60 dollars worth of stuff, which included 6 pre-made salami and cheese sandwiches, a pound of almonds, 3 coconut waters, a box of oatmeal cream pies, a summer sausage, and a coke for a late night energy boost.  As I was packing up I saw Alan headed out, we said a quick "Hello/Goodbye" and he was off, and I thought that was the last I would see of him.  With nothing else to do in town, I started to pedal my now very fully loaded bike up Cottonwood pass and to the Avalanche trailhead.  The single track was good, followed by awful hike a bike, but I made it over and onto the next segment which was mostly road.  I looked at my GPS and it said I had almost a hundred for the day, so around 9 o'clock I decided to camp.  I found a nice bivy spot a little way off the trail and went to bed.  I slept soundly until around 12:30, when I started to have a conversation with my sleeping self and my conscience self.  It went like this:

Conscience self: Why are you sleeping?  You are in a bike race!
Sleeping self: Because I am tired, so leave me alone.
Conscience self: You aren't tired, get up, night riding is fun!!
Sleeping self: Why are you such a jackass?  Leave me alone!

At this point I woke up to a bright light in my face.  There was no one around, and I realized that the full moon was so bright I could see everything around me.  I decided my conscience self was right, and I packed up and started moving.  I made my way from Fooses creek to the Continental Divide in the dark and rode until about 4:30 the next day.  I got to the start of Marshall pass and saw a pit toilet with a small alcove in front.  I decided I could take a quick nap there, so I pulled out my sleeping bag and laid down.  Two hours later I woke up shivering, as I had lost a lot of heat through the concrete slab and the wind that was blowing directly in the entrance instead of being blocked by the three walls as I had planned.  I put on all the warm clothing I had and wrapped my sleeping bag around me and jumped up and down until I warmed up.  Then, I decided to push my bike onward to get warm and make some progress.

THURSDAY

Day four started off cold, but the sun came out and brightened everything up.  Day four was the day I met the most heinous, vile and frustrating part of the Colorado trail, Sargent Mesa.  The start of the Mesa isn't so bad, because you can ride the beginning fairly easily.  Once on top the Mesa, however, the trail is full of baby heads (rocks about the size of a baby's head) and undulates in steep climbs and descents for around 20 miles.  On a bike this means that you have to push for around eight hours.  At first I was okay with this section, but towards the middle I was wishing, hoping, praying that I would fall and break something, or I would taco a wheel, or I would be abducted by aliens, or anything else so that I wouldn't have to push that friggin' bike anymore.  I took no pictures, I don't even really remember how long I was out there, All I know is that when I finished this segment I got the Apple's camp, I sat down and had a moment in the camp chair.  (Apple is a retired gentleman who sets up a few tents at the end of Sargent's mesa and provides bikers and hikers with water, snacks and emotional support)  I called out to see if there was anyone around and there wasn't, so I sat down, had a gatorade and refilled my water.  Once I was done with my pity party, (it wasn't, by a long shot, my first pity party of the ride, nor would it be my last) I got back on my bike and cruised down through the next section of trail, which didn't  have much climbing and was fast and fun, especially in contrast to the absolute hell that was Sargent's mesa.  After the single track I popped out onto the road detour (bikes aren't allowed on trails in wilderness areas, so we had to ride roads around the segments in the Wilderness) I felt pretty good on the detour as it was mostly downhill.  The dark clouds that were coming in from the West made me rather apprehensive, and I started to book it.  Eventually, around six I thought the storm was going to get me, so I thought I would hunker down under some farm equipment, eat dinner and sleep for a bit.  I got everything out and set up, ate what I hoped would be my last pre-made salami and cheese sandwich and waited for the rain.  I waited some more and the rain never fell, so I packed up and started on the next 20 miles of dirt road, which on a single speed isn't very exciting.  I headed through a long valley and then started to climb up Los Pinos pass.  Towards the end of each day I would get tired and cranky and homesick and I would want to do anything to get off my bike and back home. At around 9 I found a good spot to sleep right next to the road and I decided that sleep was the best thing for me.  I slept really well until 3:15 when the moon was trying to burn my face again, and that is when I heard the voices.

FRIDAY

I had woken up and I was relieving myself when I heard two voices in the woods.  One was unfamiliar, but the other had a thick british accent and was making jokes about hill-billies and whistle pigs.  I knew immediately that it was Alan.  Alan was riding with Travis, a seriously fast hiker who had purchased his mountain bike 3 weeks prior and decided to do the CTR after his friend, who was going to do it, broke his collar bone riding.  I waved at them and they told me to hurry up and catch them down the road.  I packed up and made it through Los Pinos pass and then down over the other side.  Right around sunset I caught up with them and we discussed all the wildlife we had seen.  Alan asked if I had seen the mountain lion, although unfortunately I had not.  Wildlife seemed to be the theme of the morning, as we then saw a few elk, a large bull moose, some mule deer, and then a herd of cows on our way up and over slumgullion pass.  As we descended the backside of the pass, a car was coming up and separated a calf from its mom.  Travis was in front of me and put on a sprint, because we spooked the calf after the car and he tried to run back to his mom.  Luckily, he saw me and decided I was not going to be fun to run over, so he turned away from me, although the thought of being run over by a small cow had already sent my heart rate into the low 200s.  We quickly finished up the road section and we were onto the the trickiest part of the trail by mid morning.  The next two sections were mostly above treeline and exposed for 20 miles on the first and then 16 on the next.  The scenery was amazing and we felt great on the first section, we even caught a rider from South Africa who was having some stomach trouble.

We pushed on into the next segment, which is when things got pretty sketchy.  The most common cause of death in Alpine environments (according to NOLS) is lightning.  So when we were about halfway through the segment and the dark clouds rolled in, we started to move rather quickly.  On this segment (#23, carson saddle to stony pass) there are what seems like an endless number of high, exposed peaks that you have to clamber over with your bike.  There isn't much riding and progress is rather slow, which makes the rumbles of thunder and dark clouds all the more stressful.  After what seemed like forever, we met up with a woman and man hiking in from the other direction.  She told us "You're almost there, only three more climbs and descents to Stony Pass!"  We were thankful for her help, but it didn't do much to allay our fears of being struck by lightning or our ever-increasing desire to be done for the day and down in Silverton eating pizza.  We soldiered on and made it over the last three  crests and onto to Stony pass road.  It was a bit disconcerting to see a road up and over the last pass that we had to cross before our plummet to Silverton.  It was similar to climbing Mt. Washington or Mansfield in the summer only to see swarms of tourists milling around scarfing down soft serve ice cream and corn dogs after driving their newly "this car climbed Mt. whatever" stickered car up to enjoy the view and nature at the peak.  Nevertheless, we started our descent down stony pass and began to relax.  Fortunately, Alan didn't have an opportunity to start his new occupation as a lightning conductor and we made it to Silverton and got a table at the first pizza place we saw.

Silverton is an interesting little town, nestled in a narrow valley with one paved road through the middle and dirt roads to either side.  We each ordered a large pizza and salad, happy to be eating fresh-ish veggies after two days of packaged sugar and carbs.  Alan and I had resigned ourselves to the idea of taking our time on the next three sections and getting a hotel for the night in Silverton.  Travis was much more motivated than either of us, and he was planning on hitting the supermarket and then heading up Molas pass to spend the night in front of the large pit toilets that were recently installed in the parking area.  So, we finished dinner and said our farewells, and then Alan and I checked every motel in Silverton and got shut down at every single one.  We met a local who told us there was a motorcycle event in town, and that there was very little chance of finding anywhere to sleep.  I took this as sign that I should just suck it up and head out, so I said goodbye to Alan and decided to join Travis at the toilet hilton up the road.  It was a six mile climb up the pass, and I met Alyssa, Travis' wife in the parking lot.  We talked for a bit, and she was hoping that Travis wouldn't be mad that she ignored his request that she stay away.  They talked for a bit and then Travis and I settled down for the night in front of the pit toilets with a multi-million dollar view.  We talked for a bit (Travis did most of the talking, as I was pretty whipped) and then I fell asleep quickly.  We woke up at 2:30 the next morning and ate breakfast, packed up and headed out for our final day on the trail.

SATURDAY

The trail from Molas pass to Bolam pass road was fun and mostly rideable.  Another excursion over 12,000 was uneventful and we made good time.  From here the next section was hotel draw road, with more good singletrack and lots of people out on four wheeler type vehicles enjoying the views and nature.  One of these types told us there was plenty of water down the trail, which we were in dire need of at this point, since the databook told us water was slim for the next 10 miles or so.  We looked and looked, but never found it.  Luckily, we ran into a couple who new all about the CTR (The guy, Jeff is planning on it for next year) we asked him where the next water source was, and he said there wasn't any until Taylor lake, up and over the next pass and about 5 hours away.  He graciously offered us water and salt tablets and even gave us some salted nut rolls (MUCH better than they sound, and they really, really helped)  I know that next year the trail magic will come back to him, and he truly saved our finish.  THANK YOU!!!  On we went and by mid afternoon we had made it to the end of the second-to-last segment which was our last venture above 12,000 on Indian ridge.  Of course, right as we were approaching the ridge the sound of thunder greeted us from the dark clouds two ridges over.  Neither Travis nor I wanted to tempt fate, so we hiked our bikes up to the edge of treeline and we both settled down under small pine trees and ate lunch.  We waited and waited, and finally decided to sleep a bit since the weather didn't seem to be going anywhere.  This was around 2 o'clock, and throughout my nap the thunder seemed to get closer and closer, but the skies never opened up on us.  I woke up around 4, and Travis was on the trail watching the clouds.  We finally decided it was now or never, so we packed up and went for it.  The last ridge is the gnarliest section of trail, along a knife's edge ridge and paved with shale.  It would have been exciting in sunny conditions, but the constant threat of death by electrocution made it even more exciting.  We were very relieved to make it over the ridge, and elated to see the sign for Kennebec ridge, the last segment of trail, which was rumored to be 21 miles of downhill bliss all the way to the end.

Unfortunately, it wasn't all downhill, but we  made it to Taylor lake, refilled our water, and headed out. There was a lot of downhill, but also a bit of climbing.  It took us 4 hours to finally reach the end of the trail, and to say that we were happy was a bit of an understatement.  We met Cowan (sorry if I got your name wrong, my brain still isn't working right) on the trail and he told us that our wives were down at the trailhead waiting.  I got an immediate adrenaline boost, since Aliza hadn't planned on meeting me at the end, I was going to visit her in Leadville after hitching a ride back.  I was so happy that I cut a corner a bit short and drove my arm and head into a large rock sticking out into the side of the trail.  It hurt and I put a hole in my rain jacket, but I was too intent on the impending finish to stop.  Travis was a bit excited as well, as we crossed a drainage littered with rocks he caught his front wheel on one and leapfrogged his bars, narrowly missing injury.  He was up quickly, though and back on his bike.  We got to then end of the trail and Aliza had hiked up to meet us. I stopped for a quick hug and hello, and then she told me to get going.  Travis and I finished together (he declined my offer to hold hands as we crossed the line) and we met Alyssa in the parking lot.  We were both very happy to be done, Cowan had brought a burrito for Alan which I got to eat since Alan was still in the woods.  We took the obligatory finish photos, hung out and related some scary stories to our wives, and then Aliza and I headed out to the super 8 where I slept like a rock.

I have never been so happy to finish a race in my life.  During the CTR my mood swung from sky high endorphin rushes to wallowing in self pity and wanting to chew my arm off so I could stop.  It is the hardest, most beautiful, most awful, most wonderful race I could ever imagine doing.  The people that I met along the way are incredible and everyone wanted to help as much as they could, even at the expense of their own welfare.  The CTR is an incredible way to see the state of Colorado, and I will be back for more (Even though my little and ring fingers on my left hand are still numb.)

Thanks for reading!

GEorge