The Great COVID Panic of 2020 led to the cancellation of in person cycling events around the world.  Among the gravel rides the most notable cancellation was Dirty Kanza, a 200 mile gravel race in the Flint Hills of Kansas.  As things started to open up for people to go outside, a former pro from the European peloton organized a DIY event he named Dirty Kanzelled.  The idea for the event was for participants to design their own self-supported route near their homes and ride alone or with a handful of friends.  Wanting to get out and about, I decided to join in.  My conditioning was pretty good as I had continued riding all through the lockdown, and the riding was actually pretty nice as the roads were traffic-free.  Making lemonade out of lemons.

Designing my own route had a couple challenges.  First, 200 miles is a ride too far for me.  Every time I’ve done 100 miles I’ve asked myself, “Do you want to do another 100 right now?” and the answer has always been “Are you effing kidding?”  Maybe it’s a mental thing.  Maybe if I set out knowing the ride was going to be 200 miles I could do it, but it definitely sounds like Type 2 Fun at best, and probably even Type 3 Fun.  Fortunately Dirty Kanzelled had a 100 mile option which was just right for me.

Another challenge is finding suitable gravel roads to ride.  Most of the gravel roads around here are fire roads in the hills that have extremely steep pitches which would quickly wear me out and involve a lot of walking.  Most of the non-brutal gravel roads I can see on satellite maps are on private land which is a no go.

The last problem was finding places to refill on food and water.  Many drinking fountains in parks were shut off due to the panic and “The Science”, and food options were likely to be limited to what I could find at a gas station.  

After much research I devised a route that strung together trails in regional parks with a handful of gravel paths in between, but mostly I would be on asphalt.  As for food and drink, I had enough on-bike storage for food, but I was going to have to be flexible in my quest for water and change my route on the fly if necessary.

I set out at the break of dawn.  Like Pearl Harbor there was a little nip in the air.  I was underdressed for the current temperature, but I figured it would warm up so I left the extra layers behind.  I headed over the hills and past the Altamont Speedway, home of the famous Rolling Stones concert, and onto the first gravel section along the California Aqueduct, which carries water to Los Angeles so Angelenos can water their sidewalks.

California Aqueduct

The first section gravel ended, and I dropped further down the hill and into the San Joaquin Valley.  After a few tense miles on a two lane road with fast traffic and no shoulder, I turned west back into the hills.  As it was still early the traffic was not as bad as it could have been.  Heading through a small town it started to rain.  This was an unpleasant surprise.  The cloud cover was welcome as it would keep it from getting too hot later in the day, but I was unprepared for rain.  I checked my weather app, and it looked like this was an isolated shower that would soon pass, so I waited about 15 minutes under a tree before setting off again.

30 miles and about two hours in I came to what I had hoped would be my first water stop at Round Valley Regional Park, but no, the water fountains had been shut off.  Stupid, stupid bastards.  My route had an option for some gravel roads here, but I decided to bypass this section in order to preserve my water.  The road continued through rolling hills and ranches until I reached Empire Mine Road, which is closed off to cars making it quite pleasant.  About a mile down the road I passed the Gates of Hell, which is supposed to be haunted, but which doesn’t look too ominous in daylight.  A little further was a turnoff on the Starmine Trail, but the gate was locked and had a no trespassing sign even though the trail was in a public park.  Being California just because something is called a public park doesn’t mean the public gets to use it.  This was another spot where I thought I could add some gravel, but not knowing the trail and wanting to conserve my water, I took the locked gate as a sign to stay on the paved road.  In hindsight I should have hopped the fence.  

Gates of Hell

At about mile 40 I reached the parking lot for the Black Diamond Mines Regional Preserve.  Now I could get back onto some gravel.  These were roads I had hiked before.  This area used to be the site of coal mines from the second half of the 19th century.  In the first half of the 20th century they mined sand used for glassmaking and steel casting.  There were five supporting townsites in the area, but today little trace remains as the miners took the wood for their homes with them when they left.  Good wood must have been a valuable commodity.  (That’s what she said.)  The mines are closed off lest someone wants to play Tom Sawyer, but that didn’t stop some kids from getting killed by methane gas back in the 80s.  The old cemetery is fascinating due to the young age of so many of those buried there.  Infant mortality was seriously high in those days.

Black Diamond

I rode as far as a prospect tunnel (not to be confused with a bonus hole) for a submission to the “Photos of Bikes Leaning on Stuff” genre.  There’s a lot to explore in this park, but water was running low, so I decided to head out to the picnic area hoping to find a working fountain.  When I got there the fountain was covered in a plastic sheet.  Stupid, stupid bastards.  But wait, I peeled back the sheet and lo and behold the fountain was working.  It felt like victory.  Time for a break to drink some water and eat some food.

Bike leaning on stuff.

Bottles and belly refilled, I turned west along a bike path until I reached the road over some hills.  There were three possible routes over the hills.  Two of them were four lane roads with fast traffic and a small shoulder.  Third was a narrow, twistier road with no shoulder.  I picked the third route figuring it would have less and slower traffic.  I was probably right about the traffic, but it was still a few miles of butt clenching as cars whizzed past. I could have shoved some of that coal from the Black Diamond Mines up my ass and turned it into a diamond by the top of the hill. After about 15 minutes of climbing I made it to the summit and coasted down toward the defunct Concord Naval Weapons station and a wider road.

Now I was into a maze of suburban neighborhoods.  As I didn’t have a bike computer I had to navigate using the phone in my pocket, which meant a lot of getting lost and stopping to look at my phone.  Eventually I found my route to the top of Lime Ridge which was narrow, steep and bouncy, so I had to get off and walk a bit.  A pain in the neck, but this too is part of gravel riding.  After a steep descent off the ridge I was back onto a bike trail next to a canal heading toward my next planned pit stop at about mile 60.  Surprise, surprise, at this stop the fountain was uncovered and the water was flowing.  Time to fill up the bottles and eat some of my wife’s homemade bread for carbs.

Lime Ridge

The route turned south for the push for home, but one more obstacle remained, Shell Ridge.  The ridge gets its name from the shells that are fossilized in the sandstone, indicating that this used to be the seafloor.  The ridge was formerly ranchland but now is a park with numerous trails winding through the oaks.  My route bailed out on the dirt after a couple miles as I was unfamiliar with the area when designing the route.  If I was more familiar with the trails I could have continued on for a couple more miles of nice dirt road.  Live and learn.

Shell Ridge

Back onto asphalt I descended the hill to the Iron Horse Trail, which as the name implies is on an old railroad grade, which in turn means that it is going to be flat.  The trail is really pretty boring as it goes straight through suburbia, but at mile 80 a surprise thunderstorm spiced things up.  I took shelter under an umbrella supported by a big metal pole.  Tell me you have little experience with thunderstorms without telling me you have little experience with thunderstorms.  I was soon joined by a pair of cyclists, which somehow made me feel less stupid for standing by a lightning rod as if there’s a finite amount of stupidity and it was now shared by three people.  I know I should have moved to a different spot, but man, it was pissing down rain, and there was a chance that the lady cyclist would end up with a wet t-shirt, so I stayed put.

The storm passed and I set off again for the final 20 miles.  The previously languid canals by the trail now were turgid with muddy water.  Before long I was back onto gravel which now was sticking to my tires due to the wet making the wheels heavy and harder to pedal.  That’s ok though, I had the wind at my back and in the distance I could see the hills by my house.  The end was in sight.  Another shower must have just passed as I rolled into my hometown as water was running in the road.  It had been dry all winter and today it decided to rain.  SMH.  I made a gametime decision to modify the route to avoid a potentially muddy section and instead to go through the downtown area.  As I neared home, I hopped off my bike to cross a normally dry creek and back onto some gravel for the last few hundred yards of the ride.

The end is near.

All said and done it was about 103 miles in 8 hours with about 4200 feet of climbing.  It felt good to get out and about after being locked down for months.  It also felt good to do the ride completely self-supported.  Will I ever do the real Dirty Kanza?  Probably not.  For one thing it’s not called that anymore, because the name was offensive to the Kanza tribe.  (I’m not a fan of the woke, but I kind of understand this one.)  Even so, I also doubt I will ever do its successor event, lamely named Unbound.  It’s a long way to travel in order to suffer.  Even if I do participate, I doubt it will be the 200 miler.  100 is about right.  Nevertheless, it was certainly not my last gravel ride.  I now had the bug.