Vermont Ski & Snowboard Museum Epic Recap

Eight inches.  That's how much rain Stowe has received in the past week.  To put that in perspective, if it were snow, it'd be somewhere around six and a half feet.  In a week.

Like so many other racers, I watched all week.  I watched as area trails slowly closed down.  I watched as we kept getting promising reports from Trapps.  I watched as the course was cut short from two 12.5 mile laps to two 7.5 mile laps the day before the race.  And cutting out Kimmers.

I was getting worried.

We had decided to make a weekend of it.  Cori, Harry and I took Friday off and headed up to Stowe.  We spent the weekend eating great food, drinking great beer and hanging around with great friends.

Paton family ride down the Stowe Rec Path

Santa Cruz demo day at Cotton Brook

Max falling in love with full suspension. Notice the air under the tires.

The burger the fine folks from Santa Cruz grilled me.

Mini golf at the Sun and Ski Inn

Bingham Falls was RAGING!

Rainbows were a dime a dozen.

I arrived at the venue around 8:30 Sunday morning.  It had rained like hell when we were stupidly walking back to Cove's condo from Bingham Falls Saturday evening and again on and off throughout the night, but Sunday was clear.  Sunny and warm. Maybe even a wee bit hot.

I grabbed my number and went out for a short warm up and reconnoiter.  The mile and a quarter I did was a mixed bag.  The grassy areas that were wet were really tough to push through, but the single track had some promise.

Sporting my brandy new DAS jersey.  Must be pre-race - you can still see it.

After a quick racer meeting, we were queuing up and heading out.  Elites, experts, sports, novice and clydesdales.  All within ten minutes of each other.

Potter and Beaupre heading out

Sporty Start

Beriau Start

Max beating a bunch of grown ups off the line

The first two miles were a pretty steady climb.  Some fire road and a super section of switchbacky, gradual climbing. Then another mile of singletrack descent before hitting the real climb.  Some singletrack that was in mostly good shape, although some of the corners were REALLY muddy.  We were already spread out by this point, so most of the dabs I had through here (although not all) were my own doing.

The killer was when you started climbing the wide grassy trail.  I climbed this trail last year while up at Stowe when it was dry and it was brutal.  Had I not seen them for myself, I would not even begin to fathom how muddy the conditions were.  I did my best to push up it, but in the end, wound up pushing up it. This particular climb, all told, was about 500' in 1.5 miles.

Once we peaked, we hit an equally grassy, wet downhill.  It was so wet I wouldn't have been surprised to see a fish swim by.  It was actually hard to gain speed, even downhill.  But whatever speed I did get was great for flinging mud all over me.  I quickly gave into this mud flinging and eventually came out on some harder pack double track.  Well, mostly harder pack.  It was peppered with crazy mud bogs.  It was here I learned to stay with the flowing water.  While obviously deeper, it was much more likely to have a firm base.  The stuff to the sides of the flowing water was just wheel-sucking, foot-mucking, mother-loving mud.

One of the drier sections

After this, a quick trip down Haul Road before heading down a crazy, everlasting switchbacked singletrack.  Lots of places to play, but not without a loss of time.  This trail was awesome!

A grueling, wet climb back to the Trapp's and lap one was done.  I would be lying if I said I didn't think about dropping out part way up that climb on lap one, but I headed back out for round two.

The ascents were a little tougher.  The descents a little less fun. The mud a little deeper.  The head game a little tougher.  I walked up more of the grassy singletrack, but didn't lose all that much time to the guy grinding up it in front of me.

On the way back down my front tire started doing its own thing in the mud.  Its thing, as it turns out is sliding sideways and then sliding out from under me.  I was down.  The good news is mud is really soft.  Back up, turn the handlebars back around and start heading down.  There was a corner onto the hardpack just in front of me and it was here I realized front brakes were a think I used to have.  The super awesome downhill was going to be super interesting. 

Before I got there though, I had to get through the mud pits.  I was very happy with my performance through here.  Somehow ground it out and got by a rider who was sloshing through like some sort of hiker.

As we hit the downhill after though he passed me.  And then another guy.  Rear brakes only really took me out of my comfort zone.  I did still make it down just a few seconds slower than my first lap time and without dying.  So there's that.

On the final climb I managed to pass a couple more riders.  I think one was in my age division. 

Total time for me was 1:55:20, placing me a very mediocre 9th out of 14 finishers.  It was a tough place to end, but it was a tough race.  Today I can honestly say that just finishing was an accomplishment in itself. 

Little bit muddy.

In friend news, Karen Potter won the elite female race.  John Beaupre won the master expert division.  Max won the novice junior. 

Other than myself in Sport vet II, Colin Johannen took third.  I'm growing more and more impressed.  And John Robertson opened a can of whoop ass on me, taking 6th and besting my time by about five minutes.  Brian Spring finished the race (just finishing was an accomplishment in itself).

Chris Beriau, apparently the only one with a shred of intelligence, did the smart thing and dropped out part way through.

Little bit cleaner.

Whole lotta muddy.

Congrats to Colin Johannen, taking third in Sport Vet II!

Looking fairly familiar.

Potter podium picture?  Perchance pedestrian?

All in all, a great weekend.  Look forward to hitting those trails again sometime when they're dry.  Thanks to all at the Trapp Family Lodge, EFTA and the Vermont Ski and Snowboard Museum for making this race happen, despite the obvious obstacles.

Here's the Strava track.

Still deciding whether I'll make the Moody park race next week.  It's a long haul from New Fairfield, CT, where I'll be for most of the long weekend.  Time will tell.

Thanks for reading.

Glocester Grind 2013 Race Recap

Well, the 2013 Glocester Grind is in the books.  The chatter on the Interwebs before the race was all about how dry it was going to be compared to years past.  Last year was a deluge of biblical proportions the day before the race.  It was so crazy muddy.  Today should really probably have been named the Gobi Grind.

So I woke up at 5:30 this morning as I've been doing for the several weeks.  My god-damned cat can't seem to kill those flippin', squawking blue jays.   Anyhow, I somehow managed to drift in and out of sleep for another two hours, which is unheard of.

Out of bed at 7:30 am.  Rested and ready.  Feeling like a million bucks. 

I decided to get to the race earlier today and doing a full lap pre-ride.    Great idea!  I'd know the shape the course was in and warm up the ol' gams.  Today, I was a race genius.  Only problem was once I arrived I learned that they weren't allowing folks to pre-ride because the novices were already on the course.  Doh!

Speaking of which though, I did catch the eensiest-weensiest glimpse of Max Beaupre heading in for his race.  He had two laps in the novice category and we were all hoping for good things for him.  He's been riding crazy strong.  Mad strong.  Mad Max.

One thing I noticed in the parking lot is that I'm definitely in the right sport.

It's like two whole worlds there, what with the eight Elements and all.  For a minute I thought I was in Burlington, VT.  Geesh.

Another thing that was pretty cool was the number of people I knew racing Glocester.  It's stupid close to my house.  Less than 12 miles as the crow flies, but since I'm not a crow, it was more like 17 miles.  Still exponentially better than my next race in NH, 121 miles away.  This close to home, all the racers I knew were out - Potter, Beaupre (x2), Segenchuk, Spring, Modig, Dunn, Beriau, Simoes, Chandler, Allen, Nydam, Miranda and all sorts of other racers I've gotten to know as of late.  Even Donnie Dauphinais was there.  I couldn't turn around without saying hi to someone.

Pre-race Karen Potter

Pre-race John Robertson

Pre-race Jim Nydam

Brian and I grabbing some pointers from Max after he grabs first.

So I happened to be around when the racers meeting went off and stayed to listen.  Along with at least six other people.  There was nothing new to hear.  Sport and Expert, three laps.  Elites, four.  Drier than usual.  Still some muddy spots.

Donnie attentively listens to the pre-race meeting.  Not really.

After the racers meeting, I was able to hand the camera over to Cori to capture all of the action.  She was happy to have Regis Murphy (Chandler's better half) to hang around with for the duration of the race.

At 11 am, we began to queue up.  And literally before I knew what was going on, someone said go.  And we were off.  The course was the same as last year, riding clockwise for what we were told was 5.35 miles per lap.  I was measuring 4.75 on the GPS, so 5.35 wheel-measured seems likely.

Expert Master Start (Beaupre and Nydam)

Sport Vet II Start (that's me, if you wait long enough)

Matt Chandler start - he looks slower because it's a still photo.

Unlike some other races, this course heads straight into some rooty, rutted trail.  Not a roadie course.  Not a cross course.  A real mountain bike course.  Less the mountain, of course.  What the course designers missed in elevation, they made up for in rocks, roots and mud.

Oh, remember that Gobi Grind comment earlier.  Never mind about the Gobi Grind.  I've often heard Jay Peak was in its own climate zone.  Jay is not alone.  Apparently it rained 40 days and 40 nights in Glocester leading up to the race.  At least that is how muddy it was.  Really?

The course starts twisting and turning through a pine forest.  Tricky roots, but rideable.  I was, as per my custom, still a little slow out of the gate.  Maybe 8th of 16 into the woods, but within the first 1/4 mile had gotten by someone who had dabbed on the roots.  Stupid sport racer!  I was feeling great.  Until I slipped on a root maybe 30 seconds later.  Stupid sport racer!

Really though, I was quickly falling into a solid pace and riding some solid technical.  Early on I did get caught up following another guy who took a turn wide and botched it.  Some jerk got by on the left.  I think he was with ZZ Top.  Oh wait, it was Brian Spring. 

I regained that position pretty soon after and then came up to the bridge that last year was before the big winding mud pit.  This year the bridge was not so great.  It was a pair of parallel planks, except they were anything but intact at the entrance, trying to force wheels into a crack up the middle.  I made it across the first two times and got caught up my third lap.  After the bridge though, the trail just hit a little of the omnipresent mud before veering off last year's course and around the majority of the mud.

Cori was at her tried and true photo shoot place as I came up to the sharp rock climb.  This year, without rain having made the roots raking the rock unrideable, I climbed up and over with the greatest of ease.

Climb stupid sport rider, climb!

By the time I'd finished the first half lap, I had gained a handful of spots and was comfortably tailing Colin Johannen.  As it turned out, Colin and I spent a fair share of the day together.  Quite nice actually.  He's pretty personable for a redhead.

That first half had a number of tricky rock gardens.  Big rocks with a little space between them.  Often not big enough to get a wheel through.  Some tried to deceive you into fitting your wheel through, but if you looked a little more carefully, you'd see you couldn't fit a wheel and a derailleur through.  So you went over if you could, around if you couldn't go over and walked if all else failed.

Speaking of walking, I was really happy with my hike-a-bike sections today. I grabbed the bike by the rear shock and ran most of these places.  While I've been doing a fair share of trail running, I've been admittedly remiss in doing it in Shimano shoes, carrying a 30 pound bike through mud pits. I think I'll practice more for that next year.

The second half of the course was tougher than the first.  Early on there is a stream crossing with a bridge to the left side, but I learned last year from Pete Dunn that the line was through the stream on the right.  The bridge was a trap.  The on/off bridge access was waiting to throw you from your bike.  I streamed it all three laps. 

The second half also included numerous other rock gardens and crazy mud pits.  There was one unavoidable mud pit which sprayed mud everywhere.  I was coated up to the bottom of my bike shorts and then some.  The best was when you finally hit dry ground and picked up some speed and the mud started flying off your wheels EVERYWHERE.  You quickly learned to breathe through your nose in these spots.

As always, the bridge dropping you into the mud pit was waiting for us all three laps.  Here's a video I took after I had finished up.  It's a little funny. Unless you're Cait Dooley.  But don't worry about her.  She was fine.

And right after that was a mud pit.

Followed by another mud pit leading into a stream crossing.

Liz Chabot Allen hits it with wild abandon.

 After that a quick trip back to the start/finish and then out for another lap.

One down.

I had lost Colin somewhere in the second lap, but caught up to him again heading through the first half of the second lap.  I kept catching glimpses of him.  When I finally caught up to him he was cursing like a sailor.  The rock garden was having a little fun with him for a few minutes.  I got by again for a little bit a few minutes later, but that pass was short-lived. Colin was riding his new Hei-Hei like a rock star.

I also kept catching glimpses of John Robertson somewhere behind me.  Not sure how close though.  

I passed a couple of guys lap #2, but was only sure one was in my group.  #218 - Sean Godley.  It's hard to look back at number plates to see if other folks are in your group. After I had gotten by Sean, I passed Colin again in the expansive clear cut region as he was tightening his handlebars.  Before I was very far both he and Sean were chasing though and I was getting worried.  I held Sean off and started gapping on him, but wasn't long before Colin was back by me again.

The last lap was pretty uneventful.  I was riding alone a lot more, had changed places back and forth with Colin one more time, but lost him on the clear cut never to be seen again.

I finished the three laps in 1:44:38, good enough for sixth place, or so I thought.  I caught up with some other folks and took in their experiences on the course.  All positive.  Beaupre had crashed pretty hard, tearing his knee up pretty good, but still had a great race.

Some of the Bums representing at the Grind.

When they posted the paper results I heard the guy who took first in my age group saying that he should have been Vet I (30 - 39 years old).  That moved me up into fifth.  For my third fifth place finish this year.  I was 4:45 out of first, 1:35 per lap.  I was pretty happy with that.

Lots of folks I knew did great.  Here are the results from Sport/Expert/Elite.

All in all, another great day at the Grind.  But not dry.  If cleanliness is next to godliness, I'm pretty sure I was riding with the devil.  I was not clean in so many ways.

Next up?  Pinnacle Challenge on Father's Day.  And a 5K next weekend in Waterloo, NY, my hometown and birthplace of Memorial Day.

Cunningham Park, Queens, NY

When I think mountain biking, I think Queens, right?  Um, no. For me, Queens elicits images of endless blocks of houses filled with Bunkers and Meatheads.

Little did I know.

I spent last week in Garden City, NY, on business and brought my mountain bike with me with the hope of locating something akin to mountain biking in Long Island.  The way I figured it, mountain bikers are the best people in the world, so it stands to reason Long Island mountain bikers are the best people in Long Island.  I should get with them. 

With almost no searching, I came across the Concerned Long Island Mountain Bikers (CLIMB) website.  And before I knew it, I had SO MANY mountain bike trails at my disposal. 

Having arrived on the Island Monday and worked the afternoon and still not checked in to the hotel, I decided to ride the closest place I could find. And that was Cunningham Park in Queens.

I was, as I think I may have already expressed, a little circumspect.  Queens?  Mountain biking?  No!  I left the office, fought traffic for 40 minutes to get 10 miles and found myself at Cunningham Park.  I was parked along the street with ball fields all around.  Hmm?  I recall the website mentioned black diamonds.  Did they mean baseball diamonds?  Crazy Long Islanders!

So I stripped in my Element, as is my wont.  Less good idea in Queens than in Sutton.  Seems to be more pedestrian traffic trying to sneak a peek.  Having successfully maintained my privacy, I pulled my Gary Fisher Hi-Fi from my car and started riding up the sidewalk with a map tucked in my spandex.

I looked here.  I looked there.  Everywhere.  But was having a hell of a time finding a trail.  The park was bisected in on direction by 73rd Ave and the other way by the Clearview Expressway.  Poking around was not working, so against my better man-stincts, I swallowed my pride and pulled out the map.  After consulting some feller who had no idea about any mountain biking trails, I hit him up for basic directions to get a handle on the map.  Knowing the direction of the LIE, I now had enough reference points to figure out the map and was off. 

If you go, the answer is to park as close to the intersection of 210th St and 67th Ave.  That is the trailhead.

The Promised Land

I met up with a guy from Philly as I was about to head in. He had just finished up riding, but explained the layout.  Go in and take the first left.  It's a directional trail, so that was really the only option.  He told me the trail would be blue, but wherever I saw a black diamond, I should take it and it would go through some cool terrain before dropping me right back on the blue.  So easy even Bryan Quach could ride it without getting lost.

And I was off.  The trail was firm, hard-packed dirt.  Super firm, super grippy.  It was immediately obvious countless tires had been over it. And that it might be the best maintained trail system I've ever ridden.  It kind of felt like going to the zoo.  Or Disney.  Where everything looks real.  But you know it's man-made.  Lots of obstacles.  All rideable.

 

The course twisted and turned, making great use of limited space.  And the black diamond offshoots were tons of fun.  They were challenging without being impossible.  Flowy and fast with some log piles -- some of which were optional, others which weren't.  About halfway through the east side loop, I came across a wide open area with a whole mess of dirt jumps and a nice skinny up the middle.

After this the trail headed on along the Clearview, often coming within 10 - 20 yards of the nutzo traffic.  While you wouldn't think it relaxing riding almost in rush hour traffic, it was somehow very peaceful, knowing it was right there and I was right where I was.  I passed by a pedestrian overpass arching the Clearview as the trail seemed to keep going on the east side.  A lot more great stuff.  Strategically placed logs and obstacles that made you want to go back and hit them again.  Not bony.  Not too rooty.  Just some solid mountain biking.  

The trail, after about three miles, came back to the beginning.  I still had some daylight to burn so I hit it again with an eye on crossing the pedestrian bridge over the Clearview.  I cruised through the first half of the east side, this time making much better time and enjoying hitting it at speed. 

I crossed over the Clearview, stopping to gaze down at the traffic and quickly moving on to regain my hidden utopia.  The west side was immediately climbier.  And there were finally some rocks.  Ah, more my style.  Less than a mile in, I saw my car through the woods.  I can't believe I had no idea the trails were right in front of me when I was in my car.  Amazing! 

I was getting through some pretty techy stuff.  Roots, rocks and trees forcing my line as I went, but getting through it all.  After a particularly hilly section, I cruised down a hill and by a tree which reminded me I was in Long Island.

There were a few more cool obstacles along the west side, including this piece of awesomeness. 

And before I knew what happened, I came out at the craziest looking dirt jump area I've ever seen.

I looked at it.  I thought about me.  Then I moved on to continue on the singletrack.  Within a mile or two I was back to the car with almost zero daylight to spare.

9.90 miles on the Garmin.  I would have gone in and ridden it all over again.  It was that fun!

Bottom line, if you are ever in the area, you NEED to go to Cunningham Park in Queens, yes Queens, NY.  

Here's the Garmin track.

Woo hoo!