Change was in the making when I checked the weather a week ago and saw nothing but sun/80F everyday this week. Could it really be? After enduring some of the most hideous conditions last year a the Pisgah MTB Stage Race I could definitely live with this nuance! Despite draggin’ my tail cross-country after winning the Capitol Forest 50, I made it to the beautiful town of Brevard, North Carolina before two in the wee hours Monday. My O’Dell home-away-from-home host family even left the light on for me!

After sleeping in as long as possible, I rousted my still comatose countenance to Poppies for a luncheon with the local highschool mountain bike club. We ate some great food and told the younguns about the “life” of a professional racer. I tried my best to keep my cynicism to a dull roar which is especially difficult on minimal rest. After lunch, we visited a local charter school for more banter about bike racing. I was scheduled to address how to “balance” being a “professional” athlete with home and work life, which I found amusing since I may be the worst balancing act or the best depending on who you talk to! When we arrived and discovered that most of the kids were probably more intested in balancing on their bikes (little gals and guys), my audience let me off the hook. Colby Pearce and Sue Haywood did a great opening act, so I don’t think any of the children even noticed my senseless contribution!

Stage one was all new with a climb out of Dupont Forest to the top of some ritzy new development with incredible views of the southeast. Apparently business is kind of slow or a bit too ritzy since I counted about one house! More shocking was when one of the owners slipped me a business card urging me to relocate to “a great place for a pro athlete”–evidently he missed the memo on balance… but I digress. Still sleep deprived, I managed to more or less keep the pointy end in sight and only finished a couple minutes off the pace.

Stage two was the same as last year with a bunch of climbing up Clawhammer then my (not-so)favorite: Squirrel Gap. I only stacked it about four times on this trail last year and that was mostly going uphill! So I took it easy on the opening climb (quite possibly a first), and tried my best to keep composure on the squirrel hole. It was going well and I was just over halfway through the gauntlet when disaster struck in a big way–my cleat broke off. BROKE off. As in both 5mm bolts sheared off and my cleat flew into the bushes never to be seen again. I imagine some big, fat, white squirrel has it mounted abouve his miniture squirrel fireplance as a future post nut dinner talking point. I looked for the cleat for awhile, then determined that it was probably best to look for a way out. After some discussion with a course martial on the best way to return to Brevard, I continued on the course and after only one wrong turn made to Turkey Pen. For those interested, Turkey Pen is a few miles out of town on the way to Asheville! I even made it back to the start finish after the leaders so it still seemed like a long enough day.

After begging and borrowing a new cleat, I started stage three despite being an official DNF. This was a little blessing in disguise since the Lemans start from day one was usurped by a Somersaulting Lemans start. I took a picture of this foolishness and got on my bike pedaling slowly through the first stream crossing without even gettin wet and on up to Farlow Gap. This is the trail we missed last year, so I was pretty excited to get a crack at it’s legendary knarl. I went well and rode basically all the non-trials sections and felt pretty awesome about that. Apparently a little too awesome since I decided in about one millesecond to ride what could have been my total undoing! Think relatively smooth trail to blind switchback right, falling away in excess of 50%, punctuated but log cross ties (steps?!) a foot high, running out into a small rock garden. I did well to clean the upper half but clipped my bar on a post (begs to question why that was there!) to the left and yard-saled into the rocks. I did my best Fred Flinstone running impression with my hands, but still managed to nick my face on the ground busting my glasses and nose. After a careful inventory of all body parts, I was amazed to only find a few small flesh wounds on my lower extremities. After freeing myself from my bike, which was doing an Andre the Giant impression on top of me, I set about stopping the blood flowing from my beek and straightening nearly every component now crooked on my steed. I got it all going again and finished the stage with no further mishap. More about this:

Stage four was a bit more benign (if you can ever call Pisgah that), but still included serious bush-whacking, and some sort of bite or sting from a highly toxic creature on my ankle. Blessed with a kankle to complement my other battle scars, I even managed another upill endo to a stuck two-foot landing on Squirrel gap going the other way. My bike ghosted down into a ravine, but still managed to escape with no mortal wounds. Wow, this Scott Spark 10 took a serious thrashing this week! Climbing up Black Mountain was also pretty ridiculous as was the unheralded descent on Buckwheat. All together it was hard and rough but that is just about all the Pisgah has on its menu!

Stage five was insanity on bikes last year with rain turning to snow, multipie river crossings and come technicalities both up and down that would have been relentless without the near freezing conditions. As much as I looked forward to a pleasant, sunny ride on these trails, it was still a little bit frightening. We started out down the highway to Turkey Pen and I even tamed Colby’s breakaway to get a nice photo of the front-end just for old time sake. Then I portraited a super-sized white squirrel and rode with Sue up towards the top of Pilot Rock. With my Breck conditioning, I was able to scamper up the hike-a-bike near the top and try my best not to stack up the downhill. It is an awesome descent, but I was tired and a little hurt so simply riding all of it with a couple dabs was a minor victories of sorts. Unfortunately the spectators didn’t move the log at the bottom of the big rock fall so I had to dismount there to save some my Rotor Q-Rings. By the end I was considerably flogged despite riding 120 heartrate for three and a half days. Here is more about the whole gig:

After all that the Pisgah could bring, I even found motivation to ride with the kids at the post race shindig and then managed to lose by a fraction of a second to Robert Marion in my first ever pie-eating contest. I may have come out on top, but Robert was able to store a lot more pie in his beard for later snacking!

Earlier this year my phone started ringing at the top of a climb on a rainy “spring” ride. Against all odds I dug out it out and answered. Turns out it was Roger Michel from 4th Dimension Racing calling to pick my brain about a new 50/100 mile endurance race he was planning in Capitol Forest near Olympia, Washington. We had a nice conversation and I told him if he built it, I would come.

Planning progressed and all indications were that the race was on and reaching Roger’s attendence goals. Then several weeks ago, I came to the realization that the Capitol Forest Race fell a week after Park City Point 2 Point and just three days before the Pisgah Stage Race. Ouch! At that point I opted out of the 100 miler, but confirmed with Roger I would be there despite leaving early the NEXT morning for North Carolina.

My teammate Marcus and I saddled up the evanplews.com/KENDA race mobile bright and early and made the two and a half hour trip north. It had been raining that earlier in the week and was sort of foggy, a little atypical for September when we reached the race site just in time to pick up our packets and get changed. I think I made it to the LeMans start about one minute early which is much better than 8 minutes late like last week!

I was able to run uphill faster than most and got out front early. The course was immediately rad as we rolled up a serpentine singletrack climb punctuated by short twisty descents. It wasn’t long before I determined that my Rotor stem wasn’t tight. I surrendered the lead while I stopped to fix the loose bar clamp. Luckily, it wasn’t long before I rejoined the leader and soon found the tempo to set out on my own.

Words can’t really describe the next 20 or so miles but basically it was all beautiful Northwest singletrack. Some was in the deepest woods where even at 10am it seemed like we needed lights. The air was damp and the trails moist making some areas a little soft and slick, but most of the course was simply pristine. Small bridges and armored sections punctuated the track and once we even had to dismount to cross a little waterfall. I was alone with the woods enjoying a steller time on the bike!

My Felt Nine Carbon and Kenda Small Block 8 tires dissected the course like there were rails invisibly implanted in the forest. Despite the big wheels, I was able to rise out of the saddle for the steeper climbs never needing to shift away from my large chainring. It was as fast and perfect as trail can be! After about 30 miles, we hopped on a gravel road and gently climbed for eight miles before hitting the last section of singletrack down the Green Line. The sun was poking out and this mostly downhill singletrack session lasted nearly fifteen miles and included a short switchback climb that tested ones endurance late in the race.

Once past this final hurdle we soared down the seemingly endless twists and turns through woods and clearcut areas returning directly back to the start area at Mima Falls Campground. The fun factor for this last section of trail was paramount undoubtably contributed to many post-race perma smiles! After the finish, we chowed down a great meal of burgers, soups, and various snacks while the racers raved about the course which I would rank right at the top of my list of all-time totally fun rides! It was a stretch to make it this year, but I will definitely mark my calendar better for the next time around.

After XC Nationals, I made a trip to Sun Valley to visit my pals at Scott USA. Our objective was to snap some photos and get some ride time on their new 29″ bike the Scale 949. While the bike will ultimately be called Scale 29 Scott’s marketing gurus aptly re-named both bikes after their MAXIMUM frame weight (in grams) for the new product roll-out!

I have a history with the Scale model group, first racing on them in 2006. Later, I upgraded to the HMX fiber version of the Scale 10 in 2008. While I won and made podium in numerous events riding the old Scale, it wasn’t without some minor complaints. The ride was super-light, comfortable and fast, but the geometry was always a little compromised.

Scott addressed this and even added some new improvments to these latest incarnations. First the bikes used to be “between” 80mm and 100mm suspension optimized. With an 80mm fork the top tube and BB height were the correct dimensions, but the head and seat tube angles were too steep. Put on a 100mm fork and the cockpit became to cramped and the bike felt too tall.

For 2011, Scott lengthened the top tube and optimized the BB height for 100mm of front suspension making both bikes handle correctly. While there are minor differences in angles and chainstay specs to accomodate the different wheel sizes, the bikes handle quite similarly.

Both Scales now have integrated post brake mounts on the chainstay and CR1 inspired SDS seatstays. SDS is a system of engineered compliance which is said to offer about 5mm of vertical flex in the rear triangle for improved comfort and traction. Tapered headtubes adorn both frames as part of the upgrade to IMP manufacturing handed down from the Addict and Spark. They also have integrated press-fit BB cups although the 949 gets the BB92 standard while the 899 has adopted the BB30 design. Last but not least, the 899 has an all new integrated carbon seatpost clamp to shave even more weight.

I put in a few hours on the beautiful Sun Valley trails with the 949 before racing the Galena Grinder Marathon just up the road. This is an old-school cours with miles if rough steepness both up and down. While I wasn’t on my best day at the race, and I didn’t have the bike totally dialed, second place was on the table until I missed a turn! The bike was awesome and between the big 29″ wheels and SDS it is the smoothest riding hardtail I’ve ever been on. The geometry is also the best combo of any 29″ bike I’ve ridden to date and the IMP front triangle, tapered headtube and integrated BB made it ridiculously reponsive while on the gas!

A couple weeks later, I got my first chance to race the 899 at the Park City Point 2 Point 78 mile enduro. Disaster struck again when I was locked out of my room and missed the start, but the 899 put in an amazing performance none the less. The handling was totally dialed in comparison to the old Scales and the bike rode like it was on rails through the seemingly endless miles of singletrack.

I passed over 300 riders on my way to 7th place and don’t remember passing very many other 26″ hardtails. Probably for good reason since the P2P was one of the most punishing races I have done. Long, high, and rough. However, the 899 chewed up the relentless climbs and smoothed out the rocky, chattering descents. The integrated seatpost clamp never slipped and the bike was quiet and stealthy with its nude black carbon finish and 18lb weight.

After all these serious miles on Scott’s new hardtail offerings, I am convinced more than ever of two things: the hardtail is NOT dead and neigther are 26″ wheels! While both courses really demanded suspension, both of these bikes are capable of keeping close on the descents and blowing the squishers away on the climbs. The 29″ Scale is better at smoothing out the rough stuff while the 26″ Scale excels on tight twisties and punchy accelerations!

The best part is that Scott has created two distinctly different bikes the work so well that neither is a regrettable choice!

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!