Two Words...

Fork Clearance. Though some may argue them to be "cross tires" or even "peanut butter". The conditions may have made a simple little 12 hour race into an epic battle to just get back to your pits, there is very little doubt a lot of fun was had.

The day started off pretty much typical, threat of rain, somber tones, and a little DeeJay domination of Dicky.

Captain Canada and the Canucks had set their mini Empire near the Moots/Swiftwick/Yazoo temples of doom, only to wake up having been roped off and quarantined. Clockwise starting from the left we have his evil highness Peter, Jamie the Canadian, Marc "with a C" Canadian, Kim "Once dead to me but no longer dead to me" Canadian, and THE Mark "THE Mark Leper" Leper.

I recall hearing 4 minutes to the gun and thinking it was going to be a long wait to start since we were standing in a near downpour and had been for about 5 minutes. The remote plane was launched, the gun shot, the 4 wheeler ripping down the lane as the racers ran to their bikes and started the sloppy soup slog around the field before entering the 1oo Acre Woods trail.

Curtis Inglis soon appeared with a broken rear wheel, we sent him over to Moots to borrow a rear wheel as this early into the race, he was still having fun. He bummed Gabe from Smoke Bikes' 29'er/36'er contraption to speed up the swap.

The leaders of lap 1 pulled off the first lap in an hour and some change, par for course from last years soggy start. About lap 2.5-3 the trail had a dry 6" path that was ripping fast last year, since not quite a downpour turned into a full on downpour then stopped, we were hopeful. In hindsight, we were just deluded dreamers.

About 2 hours and change after giving Dicky a fresh bottle for lap two (his choice) I began to wonder if he was ok or not, knowing his propensity for pushing the margin of safety on gnarly downhills. That and I still hadn't seen H come by on her first lap. Race started at 9 and it was just past 1pm. Dicky soon appeared and said he'd seen H. and she was ok, but miserable and tromping around the trail to complete her lap. Key words to remember "complete lap".

The face of Fjear

Dicky and I made the swap and I headed out for my first of 2 laps, or what I thought would be 2 laps. Last years conditions had me in the mindset for a muddy first lap, but even at the worst last year the trail was still 80% rideable. Off I went eager to get muddy and have some fun. Entering the woods I saw a lot of traffic coming towards me. I thought perhaps they'd gotten turned around but it was just the march of dead souls leaving the lap. My bike was still able to be lifted by mortals so I shouldered and started running when the trail became impossible to ride.

I was jumping and sliding downhills shouting "freeride!" and "wooooo!" stopping to check on souls departing, usually with a parting mudball from me to them. Most would smile and fire back as I said "hey we paid for this, make it fun". I'd then direct them back to the field the shortest path possible and take of running/hiking on up the trail. I'd assumed I'd have to hike the first 2-3 miles as they were peanut butter last year and pushed onward with the hopes that once I topped 911 I'd be riding the rest.

Oh how wrong I was. It never got better, only worse. I would do the push, scrub mud, push, stop scrub mud, push dance craze that seemed to take over the racers every 10 feet. Stopped at a creek and washed the bike off so I could carry it, would tire of carrying it and try to ride, gain 100 lbs of mud, then repeat the cycle. That went on for hours.

I'd joked with Hannah (who was racing on a team with H and who also completed a lap) earlier while putting my shoes on which had broken and the cleat was pushing into the sole of my foot, that as long as I didn't have to walk I'd be golden. I have a 2" x 2" bruise on the sole of my left foot from that stupid shoe cleat and blisters all over my heels. A mile and a half from the first loop into the field (with about 2.5-3 miles to go after that) I was riding a downhill pedalling as hard as I could to move and I heard a loud pop and my pedals started freely turning. I wasn't sure if I'd broken my chain, dropped it, or if the hub had just given up. Either way I was stuck walking. I hiked on further hoping for the promished Banana slide water fun park of Misfit Psycles daydreaming about how fun it was going to be tackling Peter and mudsliding down the 250' slope. It was there. My feet were killing me. My bike components becoming trash, no money in the bank to replace them, my friends were back at the pit with a keg of Yazoo, the decision while stinging was easy. I drug my 100+ lbs bike down the poop shute and over to the pits.

We briefly discussed grabbing me a clean Moots and me just running the rests of the lap since you could enter back where you exited the course via the poop shute, but my shoes and feet were done and the thought of another hour or 2 running/walking didn't seem worth the wear and tear on my feet. Especially with several other important races coming up this month. My day was done.

There is so much to tell that I'll prattle off the rest of the week, but I want to give out some props. First to H. and Hannah for both completing laps. The dogged determination for them to hike 10ish miles lugging heavy bikes through 3-4" deep mud is nothing short of inspiring. Yes girls, you chicked me.

To Matty the Welder, Super Dave D., and Rob "the Hammer" Mitchell from Moots. They came, they saw, they conquered. Rob entered the woods about a 1/2 hour after I did and we passed each other once where the trails ran close together. He was carrying his bike over his back up a steep soggy climb and I was actually riding my bike down a steep soggy decent. Probably the last time I had fun on my bike that day. We exchanged cheers. It was probably 4-5 hours until I would see him again when we gave him a bike swap and cheered him on the last 2.5 miles. He pressed on. He completed his lap. He persevered. I waited with Matty and Dave at the transition area as Rob came in and Matty tore out, having armed his Mooto-X with some cross tires from gRant. Rob having just come in under the 6 o'clock cut-off. Matty came in a little over 2 hours later putting their 3 man team in 3rd place of the 4 person class. I think the only thing stronger than their frames is their determination.

Matt, Rob, and Dave from Moots.

I've got a slew of cleaning up to do, neglected household chores, and work to get to so I'm cutting it short. More stories and photos later, but here are some parting shots of Canadians, Dickyata action, and another THE Mark Leper sighting.