Last year upon finishing the short course in the Rock Cobbler in Bakersfield I thought to myself “I’m feeling pretty good.  I bet if I do a little more training next year I could do the longer course (about 80 miles)”.  So this year I signed up for the longer course and started training.  I watched nervously as PineappleRiverAtmosphericExpressClimateChange hit Southern California worrying that the course would turn to mud, but Bakesfield only got about an inch of rain so I figured the mud shouldn’t be too bad.  Then the course came out.  90 miles with over 9000 feet of climbing.  Much more than I expected.  I started to get nervous, but I’ve done longer rides, and I’ve done more climbing, so I was cautiously optimistic that I could complete the ride.

Lumpy profile

Heading to the start I picked up about a dozen massive thorns in my tires just in the parking lot.  The tire sealant did its job and plugged the holes, but it was a bad omen to start the day.  My wave started about 8:15 and we headed up the Kern River Bike Path through some oil fields.  At about mile 6 we turned off the road and straight into the first hill which started out with a 100 yard stretch of about 20% grade before climbing 750 vertical feet over the next 4 miles.  There were patches of peanut butter mud that stuck to my tires making them heavier and harder to pedal, but it never got to the point that the wheels got so gummed up that they wouldn’t turn like last year.  Once on top of the hills we had a number of steep ups and downs along the ridge before hitting a 3 mile downhill.  The road had holes big enough to swallow a wheel requiring careful line choice.  Before long we were at the first rest stop.

Riding on the ridges

After the first rest stop it was straight back up about 450 feet over 1.5 miles, and then straight back down again onto another climb of 750 feet over 3.5 miles.  This climb had rather sticky mud causing me to lose energy as the tires had to move the mud aside as they rolled through, and then losing more energy again as the tire disengaged from the mud, which sounded a little like opening Velcro.  I feared that I was being pursued by Cankles Smith, perhaps the most feared of the Smith clan.

Once on the top of the climb we rode along the spine of a ridge with large drops on either side.  It was like riding the narrow part of Angel’s Landing but with less open air and a softer landing if things went wrong.  I wanted to stop and take a picture, but there really was no safe place to do so as I would have blocked traffic, and besides it was probably best to not think about it too much.

Don’t stop. Don’t look down.

From the ridge we descended into a boggy area by a creek.  We had been warned that there would be a section where “there’s not really a trail, but you should be able to figure it out.”  This was probably it.  The trail was easily visible in the mud by the time I got to it, but there was a lot of fallen wood just waiting to get stuck in my spokes and a barbed wire fence waiting to grab my arm.  My legs were already getting tired from all the climbing and now slogging through thick mud was taxing them even more.  I started heading to the dark place earlier than expected.  On my bike computer I could see that there was a road nearby.  “There’s a road just over there, and you send us through this mud!  Eff you, Sam!”

Mud

Sam is the race organizer with a bit of a sadistic streak.  It’s a tradition to curse at him, call him names and flip him the bird.  There’s even a photo gallery at the start of people giving the finger.  It doesn’t bother him.  It just motivates him.  The fact is, we all know what we are getting ourselves into, and we pay good money to do it, so we really only have ourselves to blame.

As I put down a little extra power to get the bike out of the mire and up onto the road my legs started to cramp.  This was a bad sign as there were many miles to go, but at least I was on pavement.  Surely this must be where we descend down to the river for the second half of the course.  But Sam is no Shirley, so after about half a mile we turned on to yet another climb, about 500 feet of vertical up to some oil rigs and then some shorter, steeper uphills which put more nails in my legs.

Rollercoaster

The second rest stop was at about 40 miles in and not a minute too soon as I was out of water.  I had not even ridden halfway, and it was already about 1 PM.  We had already done about 5000 feet of climbing and my legs were beat and on the verge of cramping badly.  We had another 50 miles and 4000 feet of climbing to go including the biggest climb of the day, about 1400 feet with a section that had terrible peanut butter mud last year.  I started looking for others doing the long route, identifiable by the color of their number plates, in order to find out what they were going to do and to give myself permission to cut it short.  All whom I talked to had the same doubts about finishing, but none wanted to make a decision yet, at least not out loud.

Out of the rest stop there was a nice long descent on an asphalt road.  It was a nice bit of recovery and I started feeling a little more optimistic about finishing.  After crossing the Kern River we got to the split in the road where the short and long courses diverged.  A volunteer dressed like a Basque sheepherder said “If you go left, it’s another 6 hours.  If you go to the right, it’s 2.”  6 hours?  OK, time to face reality.  I’m cutting it short.

I followed the short course through some orange groves out to an asphalt road, and then onto some singletrack along the Kern River where the leaders of the long course passed me.  We went under the highway and into some sandy bits, which were about the only thing made easier by the recent rains.  Before long we were at the base of “the” hike-a-bike section, which was kind of a joke because we had already had about 5 or 6 hike-a-bike sections.  This one though was a real bastard, about 150 feet straight up, roughly the equivalent of a 15 story building.  Nothing to do but shoulder the bike and get climbing.  A guy next to me was entering his dark place and grumbled, “This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done on a bike”.  I thought to myself, “Well technically the bike is on you”.

In Soviet Bakersfield bike on you.

Once on top of the hike-a-bike we had some sweet, twisty, swoopy singletrack where my summer’s training at the BMX track paid off.  We descended down to a paved highway for the last climb before exiting the road to ride through a bar for a shot of beer.  After the bar we were onto the bike trail where we had started the day for about a four mile ride to the finish.  There was one last obstacle at the finish as a volleyball pit had been turned into the Pit of Despair with the sand formed into a series of massive speed bumps.  I got halfway through before having to unclip and walk the rest of the way through.  Luckily I didn’t fall in front of all the people gathered at the finish.  I was glad to be done.  Of the 500 or so people that started the long course about 140 either did not finish at all or switched to the shorter course, so I was in good company.

Miller Time. Or maybe it was Bud Light.

Initially I felt like I didn’t want to see my bike again for a long time, but within about 30 minutes I was already thinking of what I can do better for next year.  I massively underestimated the training I needed to do.  I probably need easier gearing so I don’t blow out my legs on the steep climbs.  Rides like this are often described as eating contests so I need to figure out a way to get enough calories during the ride.  I have a carbohydrate and electrolyte mix in my water bottles, and I supplement it with Clif Bars, but it’s hard to chew when breathing hard so I end up not eating enough.  Maybe I need to eat more gels which are quick calories, but they don’t sound very healthy.  On the other hand, these kinds of rides shouldn’t be confused with healthy physical activity.  Also large amounts of carbs can cause stomach issues.  Some people would claim that there’s a feedlot to blame, but I know it’s my own damn farts.  Maybe I need to accept that perhaps I’ve hit my limit. Will I give the full ride a go next year?  I don’t know.  I have another 9 months to contemplate it before registration opens up.  What comes after Electric Boogaloo?

For full action video from someone who finished the whole ride see below.  Not responsible for goofy narration.