For this race report I'm going to do something different and what follows is the race report as recounted by my partner Yuri Theodore Elisomething. The words that follow are his. The pictures are mine. The story is ours. At times I'll interject in an editorial role, for the sake of clarity and perspective - my contributions will be in italics. For all my faithful followers (hi Yuri!) who are left wondering what happened to this blog I have to say that I think Yuri missed the trout fishing post and likely has not read Brautigan but I have a copy of In Watermelon Sugar set aside for him. This post is also an anomaly so check back tomorrow and you might find a typical Adventures in Pisgah story about how I rode Dupont Saturday and ran the Art Loeb to The North Slope today with my faithful pero.
I’ve been waiting for this opportunity for just about my whole life. For certain, at least the last three years. I am honored to be an associate/ guest contributor for adventuresinpisgah.blogspot.
It started simply enough.
Clay- “Yuri, would you be interested in riding in two
weekends if Zak bails on Double Dare?
But don’t commit yet. Just think
about it. Because he might actually do
it. I’ll have to confirm with him. But I’ll get back to you in the next two
days.”
Me- “So, what are you asking? Yes, I’ll consider doing it. But Zak still might do it? You know I had a baby and am retired right? Hope you don’t have big expectations…”
Clay- “I don’t.
That’s kind of why I called you.”
Great.
I actually was honored by Clay’s call as I think it’s pretty
cool to be on someone’s short list to do a BIG event with no advance
preparation. Preparation H? Yes, maybe.
I might need some of that. But in
tip-top shape, I don’t think so. So one
weekend out I entered another wild-ass event, the so-called, “Wilson’s Revenge”
mega-cross event in the Wilson's Creek area which falls below beautiful
Grandfather Mountain. I entered Wilson’s
Revenge for several reasons. Reasons
that were too good not to enter it. #1) The
totally bad-ass event poster already hanging in my bike shop was created by the
custom frame builder who fashioned my 44.
#2) I now am friends with the event’s promoter, Cam Fraser, having met
several years ago training for PMBAR. #3)
The weather. #4, 5, &6) The
location, location, location. And #7) And
for some Preparation H. Driftwood
style.
Sometimes Clay and I make things even more challenging for
us while we’re out. Typically this
involves as much hiking as riding and going the opposite from good direction on
all of the favorite Pisgah trails. So,
in style typical of his, I handicapped myself all of my gears except one, which
in turn proved to be the wrong gear. I
entered the single-speed category on my 44 as made possible by the generous use
of duct tape to limit my derailleur and shifter. I shook on it with Cam and pedaled my ass off
all day and finished fourth SS. This was
day two of training for Double Dare. Not
bad. Day one involved a run. Day three involved another run. And day four involved Double Dare. Amen.
I arrived last to Cove Creek campground with my partner
chasing me by bike informing me that if we checked in late we, at the start,
would be awarded a four-hour penalty. He
was not joking. He rode through a creek
to get my attention and his feet were wet.
The gun hadn’t even gone off.
He was serious. This
however followed his also delivered seriously statement that he was going to
work the morning of Double Dare and too would be arriving late. So I thought, “Why rush?” However… going back to typical style, Clay,
in his dead-pan humor, had at that time, just been messing with me. Great.
Day’s off to a terrific start.
But it did get better. I was
greeted with fans of mine who swarmed my car before the engine was cut
off. Before the car was in park
even. That was cool. It never grows old you know. As I got out to sign autographs I was a
little confused as they were at the other side of my car staring at my
bike… These guys were ready to pull it
down let me tell you. I kindly suggested
that if they brought back a pen I could sign autographs on their chests, but
they were all but mesmerized by my bike.
In contrast to my good looks. I
know, tell me about it. Weird.
So the FortyFour was off-loaded and we moved rapidly to
check in when the same thing happened.
The guy supposedly going
through our mandatory gear kept staring at my bike. Even if I tried I couldn’t make this stuff
up. I joked with Clay because his bike
looked left out and took comfort that this guy, that this guy also had a custom
built bike but was commenting on the sexiness of mine. I got to say that I eat it up. He was “looking for my blinky.” Yea, right.
And then the start thing happened. Reality struck confidently. What Clay and I have in our favor besides my
good looks is a commanding knowledge base of all of the trails in Pisgah. No joke.
We’re good. We’re so good it’s
like we can communicate without words. Like
dolphins. Our itinerary was set about in
the blink of an eye and we did not veer from our awesome route choice through
the entire day. Route choice =
good. Despite me not wanting to share
all of our magic I know Clay’s going to post it right about here________ For everyone to gleam…
475 > 276 > 477 > Clawhammer > Maxwell Cove > Black Mtn. > Turkey Pen Gap > South Mills River > Mullinax > Squirrel Gap > Laurel Creek > 5015 > 1206 > Laurel Mtn. > MST > Mt. Pisgah > MST > Laurel Mtn. > Pilot Rock > 1206 > 276 > 477 > Bennett Gap > Coontree Gap > 276 > 475 > Davidson River > 475
Thanks for nothing.
Now everyone knows where to go next year and we just lost about ten
spaces on day one. Thanks Mr. Adventures
in Pisgah.
Disaster struck about six miles in. I couldn’t drink from my Camelbak. The tube was pinched or so I thought. I pulled over and investigated. Whew!
That was a close one. Tube wasn’t
pinched at all, it was just frozen. “Frozen?”
-You might ask. Yes, frozen by two of my
birthday surprises to myself and Clay.
“Clay, I have a problem.
Do you like coconut or strawberry?”
“Strawberry.”
“Okay, good.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Never mind.”
Insert picture of us arriving to Turkey Pen Gap Trail first
and celebrating with frozen margaritas here ->
Wait. Charlie Roberts
may have beat us. But that was only
because my tubes were tied. I mean,
frozen. It was totally worth it.
So we crossed %$N1-+ P$9 @1! Trail and got our second checkpoint
about midway though quickly. One other
team passed us but they might have been using performance enhancing equipment. Said team, not mentioning any names here
because honestly I have no idea who they are, wanted to hump past us on an
uphill hike-a-bike section. Have at
it. Run if you want. Because you still have like, fifty
miles. Be my guest. Yea, we swapped leads with them throughout
the day. Usually it was one of them far
ahead of the other, sandwiching Clay and I in-between and really messing up our
game. We could never hide. Or talk in private. Or use “fake out moves” because one of them
was always there. And I’m not talking
about you Patrick. You’re okay in my
books even if you let me roll out ahead of you all the time and just follow my
routes. Think for yourself now and again
buddy! Insert picture of Patrick giving
me the “You’re Number 1!” salute in Mexican right here à
He's confused here. Checkpoint #2 was Wagon Rd. Gap:
Who I am referring to is the bandito riding on 276 with his
headphones in and his helmet off on day two.
Dumb move. You’re making us look
bad.
So checkpoints tres and cuatro came quickly and were pretty
uneventful. Patrick and Allison were
ahead of us at both of those but lost time eating. We caught them again at the bottom of Laurel
Creek where there is now a log down that equals a dry-foot creek crossing. Cool!
What’s not cool is being told about it after you have your shoes and
socks off and in your pack and then having to walk back up trail to find it. They get an “A” for perfect, race timing and
strategy. Good one guys. Good one.
Three:
Four:
I'll also interject that I started my usual Day One Bonk on Squirrel. An attempt at eating at Laurel Gap was met with half of it coming right back up. This was followed by a very spectacular crash on Laurel Creek attempting a move I had no business attempting on such a day. No serious damage but a very close call. One glove got wet and the rest of the day I rode with only a left glove. This continued with me literally puking and cramping all the way up Laurel Mtn.
We hustled up 5015 and proceeded to head toward Mount Pisgah. (Again, I’m not telling you folks how we got
to Pisgah, but we did.) I cleaned a
pretty cool move on the first go around and that got me amped. Having Clay see it really got me stoked as he
could verify it for future campfire story-telling. But he won’t.
I know. Sucks to be me. But I cleaned a certain “cave” move,
completely riding out of it and not bending anything that has a spring or
pulleys involved in its inner workings.
Style points big time. I failed/faltered
on the slack-line. Not walking it as I
would have loved to show off. But Clay
got it. My ego was now back in check.
I manned this checkpoint last year and to say that it was during
artic-like conditions would be an understatement. This year, it was like the tropics up
there. There was a small fire. People were laughing. People were slack-lining. People were going the wrong direction. Often.
It was funny to watch. I guess
that’s where being a local is advantageous.
I bet I would fail miserably in other states, at other races if indeed I
was a racer. I am a very slow rider who
enters events that others have no interest in partaking because, in most
instances, they’re miserable. Until at
least a month later. Then they’re not so
miserable. And that’s only when the knee
pain returns to being only achy some of the time.
Special Test #1:
In a moment of pre-planned brilliance, Clay and I opted to
tote our minimalist barefoot running shoes.
These were pulled out of the rucks and slipped on and we made good time
up to Mt. Pisgah. As we ran up we passed
Matt Fusco and maybe another party coming down and some hikers who had gone up
to watch the sunset and were now headed back to their cars. Maybe I am prideful and this is something
that I have to work on, but it is pretty cool to be like forty miles in or
something like that and still have enough gas in the tank to do a five-mile
trail run. Catch the remnants of a
sunset and then return back to your bike by headlamp to resume racing.
Needless to say, I did not “clean” Pilot Rock. I pushed the uphill. And… I did not clean the rock garden. But I rode the $h!t out of the gravel to our
next checkpoint, let me tell you.
I had another spectacular crash on Pilot Rock. This one took out the light on my helmet. At the bottom of the trail I was able to get it running again - a little too late.
There was very little debate as to what our next choices
would look like. Neither of us had
“trained” for this event. Clay had
ridden his bike six times since Trans-Georgia.
He had been running with his dog it seemed a bunch but I don’t know if
that counts. But I did accompany him
that one time. I have been maintaining a
hike on Fridays with my son that you could sort of label weight-training I
suppose. Him on my back and laps down to
the horses near our house. My company
must be as good as Clay’s as he usually falls asleep before we even reach the
horses. I ran the Art Loeb trail about a
month or so ago and had pretty much started hibernating early this year. So our training was not real Double Dare
specific to say the least. In hindsight
I should have worked on being sleep-deprived.
If only I could nurse my son back to sleep like my wife. Instead I just wake up and tell her that he’s
crying and go back to sleep. I know,
lame. But if I knew that I would be
racing a crit at 12:30 at night maybe I would have kept her company on a few
occasions around midnight. Back to Double
Dare, Clay and I agreed to skip Club Gap and play it safe on time. We made short work of Saddle Gap and Coontree
and hit 276 and maintained a good pace along this stretch and Davidson River
Trail. Besides being a lousy downhiller,
Clay can’t draft worth a darn and typically exerts extra effort on these
sections. We made it back to camp on
time with plenty of time with about eight or nine, or ten checkpoints. Somewhere in that range. We reluctantly took part in the crit not to
win but in a manner that would conserve our energy reserves and ensure that we
would not miss any points.
Saddle Gap:
5:15AM comes quickly when you go to sleep at one.
Sleep at One? I was up drinking way past one and then laid in my tent reading Schenck's book Mark S. loaned me until 3:30!
I opened the car door and yelled to Clay to get up. I then applied butt-ass cold chamois cream to
my knickers and got a really, really, jarring wake-up. But I’ve heard that jalapeno ass butter’s
warming effect is actually also, not so pleasant. And while we’re on the subject, never apply Mad
Alchemy’s leg embrocation on your chamois…
You’ve been warned.
Day two:
Equally if not more sucky.
It started great.
Clay and I had great choice in route as verified by very fast riders and
top contenders also choosing the same direction. And passing us.
Day 2 Route:
475 > 5097 > Longbranch > Butter Gap > 471D > 5003 > 140A > 140 > Kissee Creek > 140A > Farlow Gap > Daniel Ridge > 475 > Davidson River > 475 > Cat Gap > John Rock > Cat Gap > 475 > 276 > 477 > Clawhammer > Maxwell Cove > Clawhammer > 477 > Bennett Gap > Coontree Gap > 276 > 475
We got Long Branch I’d say first. But there were several others that got Butter
Gap before us or were there as we arrived.
We were also passed by a couple of riders doing an out and back on
Farlow but that’s just crazy. I would
like to use another word in place of crazy, but it is not politically correct
so I will refrain.
Longbranch at Butter:
Butter at Art Loeb:
An additional definition of crazy would be riding down that
other FSR, number escapes me, but ends in the general vicinity of Sumney Cove
and Courthouse Falls. Clay, if you’re
doing any editing and have a map nearby please enter route choice at this
junction here: see above. Thank you if you added it. If
not, you might want to proofread your guest contributors’ material. Just saying…
It is at this junction that I must say that I bonked. Guess pre-packaged bacon and Nutt-n-Butters
and M&M’s and Little Debbie muffins were not great choices in power foods
at five AM. Mental note on that
one. There was a lot of soft-pedaling
going on and this particular road is seeming to be my nemesis. I’m not on it much but darn it if I didn’t
push relatively easy grades. It was hard
during past experiences coming the opposite direction. It’s like a road that’s not really uphill but
apparently uphill from either direction.
Regardless it sucked and Clay was ahead and waiting on me often. I felt the need to eat not because I was
hungry but because I should. I ate a
Honey Stinger waffle and within one minute, no lie, I wanted another
desperately. I had a vanilla one this
time, not chocolate like the first, and it was like I had opened Pandora’s box. I now wanted a Nutt-n-Butter and had one of
those. And at this rate I started
worrying whether or not I had brought enough food to last the day. I got my groove on going downhill, catching
and passing Clay but becoming cold in the process as it was, or had to be,
about 30 degrees in that area of the forest.
During the AM I was in and out of jackets and arm-warmers often and with
each change we lost time. But
maintaining a comfortable temperature was quite challenging and of great
importance. We got a quick posed picture
at Sumney Cove, a promotional shot for BLUE SKY, MD. Hopefully I was looking at the camera when it
was taken. But hey, even if I was
looking away or it comes out blurry, we can all see how good-looking I am. For what it’s worth, we tried to keep Clay
out of the pictures.
From there, up to Farlow.
I did not “clean” the uphill nor the downhill. I did however find motivation in my partner
looking back at me all of the time headed up to Farlow and on a switchback
saying, “Good job Yuri!” I also took it
to mean that I am faster than him when he said, “I’m going to go ahead of you
because you’re going to catch me.” This
occurred after he pointed the gun at me and after we ate four pickle eggs. Which weren’t that bad…
What I meant to say is, that the pickled eggs tasted
horrible. Teams, shoot the BB gun
instead.
Farlow rode well.
Daniel Ridge was cakewalk. As
evidenced by this action shot:
Clay told me he was going to take it. I might have let him ride past me and get the
camera ready in advance. But my memory
is a little foggy…
475B or C or A was quick and Davidson River Trail was
uneventful. We arrived to the fish
hatcheries and were greeted with a lot of bikes. And two other riders borrowing our running
shoes brilliant idea from the day before.
Today however we elected to travel lighter and left the shoes at
camp. We walked/ hobbled up to John’s
Rock talking about the women in our lives mainly. We talked about some other masculine stuff as
well although it has escaped my memory.
What I remember most about my time with Clay at this point about thirty
hours in is getting to the top of John’s Rock, taking a picture, and
immediately turning around. He said
something about not having a picnic.
John’s Rock by the way is very beautiful. So is the view of Looking Glass Rock. The view of my bald spot, not so much.
Back on the bike and saddle sores we went and off to
Pressley Gap. That was a grunt. We not as quickly took our mandatory
pictures. We vetoed Buckhorn Gap shelter
for good reason. (See picture of steps
leading up Black Mountain Trail à)
Surprisingly I rode/ showed off how awesome I am, by riding
up a large part of Bennett Gap Trail. I
would have ridden more but a certain partner was lagging behind and a certain
friend met us coming blazing saddles downhill hooting and a hollering saying he
had brought us good spirits.
Thank you Jon.
In Clay’s defense regarding his demonstration of poor uphill
and downhill riding he was carrying all of my mandatory gear at this time so
that we could be faster overall. My duty
was to break the wind for him, which I am good at. I did this a lot on 276. I also carried the pump and used my saved
energy reserves to pump up his front tire for him. If you studied some of the above pictures you
can see why I do this, as my biceps are unusually large for my frame. I don’t even work out.
We chose instead of riding Davidson River Trail back with
Clay having a slow leak to play it safe on the paved road as we headed toward
Cove Creek Campground. What neither of
us realized is that fancy-pants third place winner and six out of seven times
Double Dare podium placer, Adam Pisgah Bad-Ass Penny, had marked our backs with
laser-like precision and chased us down.
There is nothing like riding 100(ish) miles and having a sprint and
photo finish to cap off the day. Now, I
won the sprint, initially believing that my partner and I were just picking up
the pace a little bit so that we could look good rolling in, but nooo…. It was Adam sandwiched in between us. And I won the sprint. As verified by Adam’s public Facebook
post. Thanks Adam. People have already ready it so no use taking
it down now. But he did beat us in
checkpoints so I take my hat off to him and his partner. Good job guys.
And that’s that.
That’s a wrap. Clay and I finished
in sixth place overall with twenty checkpoints.
Nineteen hours and twenty-four minutes not counting the after midnight
crit. We’re still talking so that’s
good. He covered five dollars of my
entry fee and I’ve spent two hours writing his blog. Ha! I
got him.
I’d like to thank the HUB for their half sponsorship. I know you guys gave Clay the sleeveless
jersey as a joke but he let me wear it so we could match. Despite being 40 degrees out and having six
percent body fat, I didn’t look too out of place when I pulled my arm-warmers
up… Besides, look at my guns. Now that is a great marketing strategy if
I’ve ever seen one. In other news, I
wore a sleeved Blue Sky, MD jersey on day two.
They’d rather me not mention them on-line as I did not podium. No.
They do not love me unconditionally like my mother. Yes.
It is like that. No podium =
nobody talking to me at work on Monday.
Booo.
*Side note
Presently I am a nutrition counselor at Blue Sky, MD and I
hope that my patients find as much amazement in what the human body is capable
of doing and recovering from as I have.
If you eat the right foods at the right time and practice a healthy,
active lifestyle, and find something that motivates you, your life becomes, or
at least mine is, enriched. It is
awesome. And I hope, that someone out
there finds a little motivation within this post to go out there and do things
regardless of discipline, finding as much happiness as I do when I am out in
the wild places close to home.
Sincerely, Yuri Eliashevsky, BS, QMHP 
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