Chose the single speed for this one this time. Why? Well, a couple reasons: First, I have never raced a stage race SS. Second, Breck Epic was so cruel last year, I couldn’t dare a repeat so I forced a differenct conclusion by riding a completely different bicycle! The race was different, too. Six full stages–no weather shortened prologue timetrial foolishness. Just business. Brutally knarly, high elevation, get-your-climbing on sorta business!

Knowing this, I geared “down” for Breck, starting at just 34-16 on my 26″ Ibis Tranny. I also installed a full 100mm of Manitou R7 suspension up front and my trusty Jandd framebag to stow all my spare parts… minus a spare pedal (we’ll get to that later).

Stage one got off to a decent start and I was going well until I noticed that the pedaling seemed to be getting harder. Yeah, I was going uphill but it was HARDER! Appartently I had neglected to tighten my seatpost clamp, and it had migrated a full inch below normal. So, I stopped and fixed it all up and of course got passed by a lot of folks. Got them all back and then my entire seat fell off. At least I was consistent at NOT tightening bolts! By the end I had opended a gap on my competition and won but a couple minutes.

Stage two on the Colorado Trail had been on my mind since last year. Basically it was where I came to the distinct realization that I man not leave Breck alive or at least without coming unhinged countlessly. Everyone thought it was benign on paper, but I remembered it would be tough. I begged and borrowed a 17 tooth cog from Jake Fitzpatrick–guess he didn’t need it since he was riding some special belt driven thingy. Two to one… are you kidding me? That is what singlespeeds are sold with–how wussy is that? The real story was that this gearing will either destroy its rider or the competition at this venue. BONUS: the cog was Ti! With tight bolts and a lower gear I smashed the second stage and increased my lead.

While stage two had everyone thinking “easy”, stage three around Guyot was creating fear and trembling in the groupetto. Starting with a not-so-easy climb up Little French, then twice over the continental divide before a ridiculously hard finishing climb that was also distinct memory from last year. We rolled out of town and up an old flume. Flume means they used to run logs etc down a water slide of sorts. Now we ride mountain bikes on them because the are perfectly graded singletrack. They ARE singletrack because they have a dish shape and are generally narrow ie. designed for one log… Well, apparently one of the not-so-fast geared guys was upset about a lowly single speeder being ahead of him and decided to “on your left me” resulting in tangled bars and arms and me riding into the bank on my right. Of course the bank was composed of numerous rocks, one of which ripped my pedal body off the spindle. After about eight miles of riding, running, slipping and hoping I wouldn’t become me own new pedal body, I made it to the first feed/tech zone and bummed a pedal and cleat. With some minor bike/shoe surgery I started up the continental divide–the first time.

This got interesting since it was now misty and even precipitating, and getting colder by the minute. I was angry and frustrated, but the weather just was the proverbial straw to set me off! I like it hot and dry, it is supposed to be hot and dry in August. It was cold and raining, so I just got ‘er done and ripped down the descent only slowing to blindly run off the trail and remove my glasses. At the bottom we got on the road for the trip back over the top and it was just getting colder and wetter and I rode harder and faster passing, all but two other single speeders. Near the top my old buddy Garth Prosser told me Dejay and Mike were only a couple minutes ahead. I started this section of the Colorado Trail remembering a hoo-ah session chasing Cory Wallace down it last year–me on full squish and him on his hardtail. I also distinctly remembered thinking “this dude is crazy to be riding his HARDTAIL down this silly rocky root fest this fast.” Now, I was going to do it… and then the sun came out!

Game on. It was like being in a tunnel of frustration and suffering for hours and then popping out into nothing but awesomeness! I let go of the brakes and had one of the most superbe downhill rides in years and in the rockiest of rooty switchbacks, saw the singlespeed leaders flailing around just ahead! I just rode by as we got onto the gravel proceeding the final climb. My Ibis did have wings that day and I flew up the senselessly steep grades only having to dismount once to clear the top. It was good and I won–against jut about all odds!

Stage four on the Aquaduct was beautiful in every way Guyot wasn’t. I was off the bike very little and while Mike Melley forced the issue, I was able to overhaul him partway through the day and never looked back padding my lead even more.

Wheeler Pass. Stage five. This was what I wasn’t looking forward to. Way high alpine, and hike a bike. Lots of bike walking and that was even with gears! I struggled and humped it for what seemed like forever this time chasing an inspired Montana Miller. He was 100 percent commited and I was just trying to keep him in sight. Over the top and down the ridiculous knar descent to the bike path. Then I caught M&M and dropped him until two (one I mentioned earlier, one that wasn’t even racing) degenerates with a “J” on their kit decided to draft him back up to me. Eeewwww, light that fire from two days before, baby. I just did a slow burn, smoldering along the paved trail until we turned onto the Peaks. Then I shoved the pedal through the firewall! Full gas for the first time this week. It felt good, as every fiber of my being screamed in protest and then unified in effort to crush this silly insult. And that I did, they were all gone and I eased up and rode to another stage win!

Number six, the final thrashing on Gold Dust. If I was wrecked yesterday I utterly caving today. To that end, I just gave er. Up the climbs holding the wheel passing the geared guys even with Pua. Sorry guys–ladies and single speeders go fast too! Over Boreas, down the flume ‘Dust and back up the pass. I could smell it, feel it, taste it and up ahead I would soon see it–Breckenridge one last time. Pua caught me on the second descent of Boreas and it was nice to draft… she even gave me the singletrack and I let it hang, my own private celebration of a stage race fully in my corner. Then over the bridge, onto the pavement and I was finished with Breck Epic singlespeed style. Six days, six stage wins, the overall… nothing better than that in bike racing! Oh, and I won a sweet new frame from Misfit Psycles– http://www.misfitpsycles.com/ Rock on!

Yesterday I made the decision to abandon my attempt to finish all N American MTB stage races at the second checkpoint of TransRockies after first breaking my disc rotor off then shortly after having the derailleur hanger fail. It was a tough pill to swallow but it seems like this year I have had to learn a lesson: learning with to give up when the potential losses outweigh any possible gain.

In that mode, I woke up later, chilled out and watched the start of the last stage of the 2010 TR. We made the short drive to Canmore just in time for the sun to come out. After unloading the car at the hotel we went to the finish line to congratulate those who can conquered the event.

It wasn’t long before riders started showing up and I was able to watch the finish of a stage race as a spectator for the first time. I got to see the elation and accomplishment and knew the feelings from previous experience. Not my choice, but it was a cool new perspective!

Jon came quickly after having a great ride today. It was weird to see him finish alone but I was glad he made it with all the hassles we endured this week. Jon is one of the most accomplished TR riders around and he deserved to ride the race in its entirity.

The evening feast was awesome and I thoroughly stuffed myself in preparation for Breck Epic! Until then roll on…

I woke up this morning to the sound of fireworks going off. I wasn’t dreaming either. Ok, it is dark, cold and RAINING—fireworks?! Evidently somebody got into the “Bear Bangers” used to scare away snooping yogi and decided to have some fun. Oh, yes, and it was raining. I dozed the rest of the night listening to the drops pound the tent wondering if there was any hope of it stopping. When the alarm finally rousted me from the bag, it was apparent that the rain was with us for the longest, hardest day of TransRockies 2010.

With the morning routine of schlepping bags and getting dressed in soggy clothes we all seemed less motivated than ever to start the race. When it finally got underway, Jon and I started dead last and rode slowly up through the pack. By the time we hit the big climb of the day to Jumping Pound Ridge. Yes, strange name, but actually quite applicable today in three degree centigrade temperatures with wind gusting at a reported 50km per hour. Apparently that is what mountain bikers are supposed to do keep warm—jumping and pounding!

We moved up into fourth place in our category and were climbing well despite the rain and cold. At the top we dropped down a short descent to a saddle before climbing even higher to a point called Cox Hill. This is when things began to come unraveled for me. First my rear brake pads burned through, then shortly thereafter the front pads were gone. I was still able to slow down to some degree until the rear rotor caught on the pad backing and tore itself apart.

With no rear brake at all, I climbed the rest of the way to the top ahead of Jon and started the descent. Of course it was totally RAD, steep, and even possibly worth freezing to death for, but I couldn’t control the bike on the roots and rocks with only the front brake partially functional. Running was my only option, so I hoofed it down about 700 vertical meters in seven kilometers. Surprisingly I was still intact physically and able to make good time on the road into the second checkpoint where I found Jon waiting in a warm tent with a number of riders we had passed earlier in the stage. Apparently they had been cut-off from the big climb and descent race by race officials and given some penalty time.

We slammed some hot chocolate and took off motivated to finish the stage now that the “hard” part was over. I made it about 200 meters before I shifted the rear derailleur and it broke off the frame. I had a spare hanger for Jon’s bike but not one for mine. With no rear brake rotor, no front brake pads, no rear derailleur and absolutely no motivation to single-speed 23km to the finish, let alone repair my bike for another mud-fest tomorrow, I quit. Sagged out, got in the broom wagon bowing out of TR on the second to last day.

Now that I think about it, maybe I should have shortened the chain and single-speeded in. After all, it would be good practice for Breck Epic week after next. Of course, the rain stopped by the time we drove into the Rafter Six Ranch and Jon showed up less than an hour after we did. I am already feeling like a real wussy. Oh well, I suppose there may be another TransRockies in my future or maybe not. In any case, I am looking forward to eating breakfast before lunchtime tomorrow and enjoying a nice café in Canmore, while I wait for the finishers to show up.

In the meantime I have washed my broken bike for the last time this week, eaten a few slabs of roast beef, and prepared for my final night in a three-person tent not even suitable for one grown man. I promise to report again tomorrow from a dry spot at the finish so gitty-up!

After the brutally muddy stage yesterday, followed by the downpour and hideous mire that was the camp, we could only hope for some reprieve today. With my partner playing tour guide for a guest rider, I was free to roam, but uncomfortable teaming up with another duo. It seemed like it would either be a case of helping a team or hindering them and frankly, I had no idea how I would be riding anyway.

I checked in to the back of the first start block and rolled up the initial climb well back of any of the leaders. My objective was to simply ride as much as possible and make it to the finish quickly and in one piece before the afternoon weather started. Within five minutes we were in a downpour on cow trails that deteriorated into significant hike-a-bike. These steep slogs were immediately followed even steeper chutes where all of the elevation was lost in one frantic, downhill slide.

After a couple of these, we descended into another seemingly endless series of bogs and mud holes through streams and aspen clones. I was able to motor through the bulk of it overhauling rider after rider in what seemed like and even longer and harder plow than yesterday’s epic cow trail. Finally, we reached the checkpoint at 25km after what was like poop purgatory. Not even half way through the stage, but luckily the majority of the muck was behind us and we began to climb away from the wet meadows.

Two climbs and two fun descents were followed by a thigh deep wade through the Elbow River. We rode for a few more kilometers on roads both gravel and paved before entering the campground and the finish. I had passed all but three teams and felt pretty good about finishing so quickly without ever digging deep. It is nice to feel a little more effective on the bike after my April stack-up and resulting injury downtime.

I hammered some food and headed for the car to grab my stuff and shower. Not so fast—the keys were locked inside as were all my clothes and gear. Luckily I was able to borrow a towel and clothing and get a shower and bike wash before the afternoon deluge set in. Deluge it was, too, with torrential rain and hail for a couple hours. The temps plummeted and those still out on course must have been ruined by it all. Riders continued to trickle in even after the official nine hour cut-off, easily making this the longest stage of the race far in time despite being the second shortest in distance!

Tomorrow is the queen stage through the highest alpine trails of this year’s event—72km and 2250m of climbing. As we look up at the freshly snow-capped mountains we can only wonder what lies in store for us. Five down, two to go, and Canmore is becoming more than a light at the end of the proverbial stage race tunnel, so we can only rest up before tomorrow is upon us.

We left most of the TR3 competitors behind with a chilly, overcast start from the campground. After a frenetic sprint one kilometer to the first single track things began to sort out. It was a rolling descent that was pretty buff, and super fun even with the dampness of the morning. Before long we were up onto the highway for a short stretch until beginning our first climb to Grass Pass.

This portion of the route was mostly moto and cow trails of varying grade that were generally ridden with little trouble. Some folks seemed stuck in walking mode after yesterday, so we were able to work our way up to third place by simply riding more. A short descent gave way to another climb over Sullivan Pass. This ascent was more constant, and I was able to stay on the bike and enjoy the sunshine that was out and quickly burning away the morning gloom.

Jon was climbing well and we were in pretty good shape until the alder brush closed in halfway up. This seemed to be a bit of a distraction for him, and we fell back to fourth place across a rocky, false summit along the ridgeline. We were now in sight of second as we entered the alpine meadows near the top. The mountains were beautifully serene, and the weather perfectly calm and temperate. Nice enough that one could easily stop for picnic and a late morning nap!

There was no resting, though, as we crested the pass and dove back into the alders. They seemed solely purposed to remove all flesh from our lower extremities. The brush also made for some sketchy riding since it more or less camouflaged the trail ahead leaving some surprisingly large rocks and washes virtually unseen. We had really began to lose touch with the front runners in our category by the time we made checkpoint two near the bottom. The single trail gave way to smooth gravel road, and I could tell my partner was struggling now regardless of the terrain or surface.

This was unfortunate because we still had over 20km to ride and things were about to take a real turn for miserable. We exited the road and entered cow country full bore. I won’t elaborate, but imagine boggy meadows punctuated by patches of rooty woods and numerous streams—then add lots of cows living in the area. Essentially it was a mess; lots of mud holes, lots of poo, and lots of pushing. I kept myself mentally occupied by trying to ride through or avoid as much of the mud as possible, while Jon just seemed focused on putting one foot in front of the other just to make the finish.

On and on we toiled even passing a moto stuck in the mire. Luckily it was sunny and warm enough to be comfortable washing in the creeks while I waited for Jon to catch up. Finally, after a couple hours of this foolishness, we crossed the river onto a paved road for a few klicks to the finish at Anchor D Ranch. The camp is in none other than a muddy cow paddy! Unremarkably, it has been thunder storming most of the afternoon so I haven’t spent much time outside the tent. The scenery is rolling meadow and patchy forests of evergreen and aspen typical of the Rockies, however the big mountains are out of sight for the moment.

At this point, it looks like the overall podium was basically a pipe dream regardless of our issues yesterday so hopefully the weather will give us a break and we can ride our bikes more than we walk from here to Canmore. It must be a disappointment for Jon as he is legendary here at TR. Tomorrow he plans to take a day “off” and ride with his lady. In the meantime, we look forward to some “dude ranch” eats tonight—hopefully lots of meat and potatoes!

We started the race at 8:30 this morning as a precautionary measure since we were crossing the Continental Divide. The Rockies are notorious for afternoon thunderstorms and apparently it seemed like a good idea to get folks over the high alpine pass as early in the day as possible. The group rolled around Elkford for a few kilometers prior to heading north out of town on an undulating logging road climb.

Unfortunately, the road seemed to be heavily used and not very well maintained. The recent storms had left the road full of muddy ruts and puddles. A lack of any sustained climbing kept large groups of riders together which created dangerous chaos every time the road deteriorated as all of us tried to find the safest, driest line. While there was little gravel on the road, lots of large rocks were being dislodged. Jon and I were doing really as we neared the first check point and were riding in a large group at the front which contained most of the top riders.

About a hundred meters prior to the station, a rock the size of a softball flew towards me as I rode along the left edge of the road with nowhere to hide. While it just missed my leg and front wheel it slammed into the side of my rear wheel and instantly flatted the tire. Jon saw me pull off and asked if I was alright but I could only holler negatron as he rode on by. I was disgusted about the flat, but that is part of racing, so I was off the bike quickly and had the wheel and tire off in a flash. However, I couldn’t remove the mud covered nut holding the tubeless valve stem into the rim. No matter how hard a tried the mud was making it impossible to get a grip.

In the meantime, Jon had continued around the corner to the checkpoint to wait for me. Evidently he mistook another rider for me and rode through. For those of you new to team racing, the most basic rule is that riders on the same team must pass the checkpoint within two minutes of one another or incur time penalties. Jon realized his error and rode back to me about the time I was finally able to jam a rock against the valve just enough to get the nut free and put in a tube. Apparently the world’s slowest flat change wasn’t slow enough because the mud had fouled my CO2 inflator to the point that it wouldn’t seal properly and I resorted to pumping the tire by hand.

Eleven minutes later we were rolling again and slowly passed riders on the way to the second checkpoint where the climb began in earnest. I was able to scoot past some slower riders and rode much of the climb that others were pushing. Not only was it steep and muddy, it was completely overgrown with alder brush which ultimately ended up forcing me off my bike more than the grade or surface. We heard later that the BC Provincial Government in all its infinite wisdom would allow the trail to be pruned out, go figure!

I made in out of the thicket otherwise known as a trail a couple hundred meters ahead of Jon, cast my bike to the side, and ran back down to give him a bottle and a push. Before long, we were above the tree line and even momentarily caught the third place team who had also flatted. There were several more hike-a-bikes on the way over the pass before we began a steep, rocky descent into the valley below. The trail was technical and fun but I was concerned about another flat.

We picked our way down the blown out jeep road with me in the lead. Somewhere along the line I followed tracks off on a parallel single track and ended up about a hundred meters left of the marked route. While I could see that the two trails converged below, I wasn’t always able to see the other riders through the trees. The trail climbed above the jeep road and then dropped back down to it in less than a kilometer.

When I reached the bottom, I coasted for several minutes waiting for Jon while several riders we had passed on the climb rode by. He didn’t come so I slowed completely and was passed by a couple other riders. I asked them if they had seen him but none of them had. At that point I made the false assumption that he had gotten ahead of me and began to chase toward the finish. I passed several riders and teams but none had seen him so I rode as hard as I could to catch up with just eight kilometers remaining.

I reached the finish and was totally dismayed when Jon was nowhere to be found. I even told the officials that he was ahead of me but they claimed he hadn’t finished. The two minute window ticked by and finally Jon arrived giving us our second violation of the stage! This is the fifth time each of us has raced an event like this and neither of us had ever made this mistake. Today we both made it!

With an hour of penalty time accrued, our chances for the overall podium have come and gone. Regardless, will try to regroup and we may even try to make good on a stage podium or two. It is tremendously disappointing to lose a good race on such a silly note!

Let’s hope for better news tomorrow and thanks for reading. Oh, and NEVER, EVER, let your partner get out of sight!