Sunday, June 11, 2017

The Trans Iowa V13 experience

Ok, so my Trans Iowa blog is a bit delayed behind some of the others, but nonetheless here it is! If you're not familiar with Trans Iowa or only have a vague idea of exactly what it is, i suggest heading over to Guitar Teds website and reading up a bit on it as it's a pretty interesting event put on by an interesting dude (Trans Iowa V13 website). I won't go into the gritty details of how Trans Iowa came to be, the history and whatnot but rather my point of view on the whole deal. I first stumbled across Trans Iowa on the internets many moons ago, and at the time the event had just been wrapped up for that year and it was tentative as to whether it would take place again, or at least so it seemed. A bookmark was created on my work computer under a vague tab labeled "bike stuff" and forgotten about as the summer of that year took over as well as favor towards my mountain bike. Flash forward to early spring of the next year and an email from one of my sponsors, Velocity USA, asking if i were interested in doing an event called Dirty Kanza as they had a free sponsor entry. Wasn't really sure what it was at the time other than a super long version of Barry Roubaix in Kansas. Went to Emporia that year (2015) and raced in some pretty rad conditions battling mud and rain. I'd say this is about the time i came to understand my capacity to enjoy the adversity in long, wet, muddy and rad events. Flash forward about a year after that experience, another Dirty Kanza and many gravel miles later to the winter of 2016/17. Surfing the interwebs at work i elected to dig through that "bike stuff" tab to see what other events i had either came across or heard of and saved for a later date when i came across that dusty Trans Iowa bookmark.

Weapon of choice

A cup of coffee or two and some mouse clicks later i decided it was time to fill out a postcard and follow the rookie procedure for trying to score a spot in Trans Iowa V13. There is a proper procedure in place for throwing your hat into the ring for Trans Iowa, and i would suggest if you want to do it (assuming it still exists) then you read them thoroughly and do it the right way. I dug a file folder made from card stock out of my desk, carefully measured the standard dimensions for a postcard onto it and as legibly as possible wrote down the required information, nothing more nothing less, and sent it via postal courier to Guitar Ted's attention. There's a lull in the time that you mail the postcard to the actual time that you find out if you've been selected (naturally) and true to his words on the post card lottery date names begin to show up in the roster. Clicking on that link that directs you to the participant list and scrolling down is something i'd compare to scoring an entry into one of those events that sells out in 2.5 milliseconds. Low and behold, there was my name hidden somewhere at random in the list of those chosen to undertake Trans Iowa V13. It was at that point that it truly sunk in that i was now obligated to ride my bike, regardless of conditions, approximately 330 miles on gravel roads in Iowa at the end of April 2017. No big deal right?

Bike preparations

Days turn to weeks turn to months during a mid-western winter. Fatbike racing demands my attention up until early March whence i can finally turn my efforts towards riding bikes on unpaved roads. Lots of things were going on this spring; preparing to "retire" from work, starting the Michigan Gravel Racing Series, and planning/preparing for our adventures to come over the next years time. During all of this in the back of my head i keep thinking "man, you better sort out what you're doing for Trans Iowa, seriously though...". I would say that my preparation for Trans Iowa may have been a bit unorthodox, but i suppose in the end it all worked out. I did spend some good time slaying grav grav in March, but at the start of our time off, Jenny and I headed south towards warmer climes and left the gravel bikes behind in favor or road and mountain biking in Appalachia. My original plan was to ride a Salsa Cutthroat that i built up for ultra-endurance events over the winter, complete with dynamo hub, K-lite bikepacking lights, USB charging, huge gearing range, and bomber components. Well, i only actually rode about 300 miles total on that bike up the the last week before the race and wasn't really dialed in to ride 330+ miles in Iowa. For once in my life, i used some of those thinks and thoughts from previous events and decided to stick with my tried and tested Salsa Warbird. This meant i'd have to run battery powered lights, carry USB chargers for my Garmin and phone and sort out a good setup to keep me comfy for 24+ hours on the bike.

A smattering of grub 

With mere days to spare i got the Warbeard all kitted out with aero bars i stole from my time trial rig, a smattering of Niterider lights, and battery packs duct taped and zip tied to random parts of my bike. It seemed my setup was all tuned in and then i looked at the weather forecast. Rain, rain, wind, rain, cold, and maybe some more wind for good measure. Hopeful thinking didn't do any good in this situation. Thrown for a bit of a loop i strapped a half-frame pack onto my bike to carry extra provisions and grabbed a bigger camlebak setup to toss more supplies into the night we were leaving town to make our voyage westward. Things were shaping up in an ominous way, don't get me wrong, i love adverse conditions, but the full stack up of the cold, rain and wind for 24+ hours was harshing my stoke level a fair amount. As we rolled into Grinnell, Iowa amidst the rolling hills, endless gray skies and tree bending wind the only thing left to do was shrug it off, and hatch a plan for survival. As competitive a person as i can be, with what was laid out before me i took a full on survival approach as opposed to assessing every gram i was carrying. I commandeered Jenny's small backpack from the car, stuff it with actual rain pants, jacket, two pairs of gloves, socks, and layers. My frame pack became engorged with calorie full morsels, repair items, hats, batteries, you name it. The last thing i wanted was to have to DNF because i didn't have what i needed, and i sure as hell wasn't going to skimp.

The pre-race Meat-up at the Grinnell Steakhouse was abuzz with talk of the conditions, strategies, gear selection and how to survive. There weren't many familiar faces there other than Salsa teammate Greg Gleason, whom i had never actually met in person, Ben Mullin and a few others. We sat down at a table with a group of riders including Walter Zitz whom i didn't know at the time i would literally ride the entire event with. As we finished our meals attentions were turned towards the actual meeting where knowledge would be dropped upon us on how things would go down the next day. Jenny and I both took note of critical times (4AM start), locations and race information then made our way back to the hotel for final preparations. Not much sleep was had that night between the 11 pm bed time and 2:30 am wake-up. Forcing the body to accept food in the middle of the night isn't the most fun thing one can do, but necessary. Rolling back into town in the pitch black night, blinking red lights of fellow riders could be seen all along the way, and re-assured me that we were all in this together. Standing around the start line, exchanging greetings, and making final adjustments the tension can be felt almost as palpable as the cool wind blowing through the streets. Jokes are made, a Subaru wagon is backed up and before we know it the sounds of SPD pedals engaging with shoes fill the small town and we're off. Small cycling lights are all we have to venture forth into the night. I'm thankful the rain has yet to start and riding in a pack is a possibility. Slowly and surely the group of riders dwindles as folks settle into their respective paces in alignment with their goals. I look around me, making salutations with riders whom i am not familiar. These are my people, these are the ones i will need to work with for the unforeseeable future, these are the ones i'll need to boost my spirit when it is failing.

Toeing the line

The first few hours pass rapidly and as the sun rises there are few of us remaining together in the front group after the first minimum maintenance hike. Despite the small grouping, i'm pleased with who i see surrounding me; Greg Gleason, Dan Hughes, Walter Zitz and Jackson Hinde. I figure myself most fortunate to be surrounded by riders of such pedigree and it helps to ease any anxiety i have over the journey ahead. The hours pedaling distill ones thoughts to the immediate and necessary only. Time to eat, have a snack. It's been 3 hours, should have a couple bottles down by now. Chain is grinding a bit, lube at the next opportunity. Navigation by cue sheet is aided with the daylight and lack of precipitation. My custom cue sheet holder with sliding ziplock bag is doing the trick. It's an exciting moment each time a cue sheet is discarded to the bottom of the pile. Event more exciting is passing through checkpoint one and being allowed to advance along the route. As the hills continue to roll i can't help but begin to feel the full weight of my pack and bike being pulled upon by gravity. My power meter has long since gone haywire so heart rate is what I've got to track effort. Dan Hughes is running a particularly svelte setup and it becomes a topic of conversation between myself and others. What's his plan for when the rain comes? What's he going to do when the night falls and all hope is lost (ok, exaggerating a wee bit there)? For the time being, his setup is paying off, Dan is spry up the hills and steady in the flats, pushing forward like a diesel engine in the freshly spread rock and dirt. I begin to feel the brunt of the pace as has Jackson, and we joke about our drifting backwards from the group to ease the struggle. Now, we have a sixth member in our group, the rain.

Resupply candid shot

As the rain comes crashing to the earth from the sky we all begin adjusting our barriers to keep us safe from its menace. The groups cohesion is tenuous at this point with a few of us dangling on the precipice. I've come to terms that the pace is too much for me, and if they go, they go. The rain increases in intensity and we begin to face the full wrath of a hefty cross wind. I know i can't wait much longer before i put on my rain pants or it'll be curtains for me. Jackson and I have an unspoken alliance at this point as we're riding in the back of the bus, and as i look ahead i notice Walter slow to a stop. The first flat tire in our group has reared it's ugly head in the midst of heavy rain. Walter tells us to keep rolling, but this is a great opportunity to don those rain pants and have a snack. The alliance has grown 3 strong. Rolling once again, our terrific trio pushes forth against the elements towards that storied checkpoint 2 at 190 some odd miles. Heads are down and miles are ground out with a steady efficiency. A point comes where Jackson must bid us adieu as our paces differ too greatly and we wish him the best on his journey. Pedaling onward Walter and i take note of increasing evidence of civilization and a perceived pep in our step has us pressing onward rapidly down a bike path and into the warm hearth of a Casey's General Store. Not long after our arrival and Jackson is with us once again. Gloves changed, hands dried, food consumed and chains lubed.

Respite from the rain

For the sake of monotony i'll just say that we continued our regularly schedule program until checkpoint 2. Walter and i together and Jackson not far behind. There is no prior knowledge as to when or where a "re-supply" stop will be so it's always a pleasant surprise to find respite from the rain. Arriving at checkpoint 2 we are excited to find a tavern whereupon we may find solace in pizza and beverages. Rolling up we're surprised to see Greg's steed in the bike rack and him inside. In my head at this point i considered it a feat to make it this far and felt unsure about my future. Greg was in good spirits, in his element gritting it out and pursuing Dan whom was somewhere in Iowa solo. Seeing Greg renewed my spirits to push on, and Walter and i elected to dry off the best we could and carry on. Jackson rolled in with some stomach issues but in good spirits. He calmly asked if we were planning to press on and we solemnly acknowledged this to be the case. Heading out the door of that warm and inviting place was no easy feat. The rain continued to fall as did the nighttime. Only 140 miles to go, over halfway, we can do this. I still had my doubts. Another town, another convenience store, another pair of latex gloves, more caffeine and another rendezvous with Jackson. I continued to be impressed and humbled by Jackson's fortitude as he pushed on behind us solo. Now we battled the headwind and would continue to do so to the not-so-bitter end. Taking turns pulling or drafting was fruitless with the sloppy roads. Everything became wet and filthy at the same time. With the increasing darkness came decreasing temperatures.

Somewhere in Iowa on a minimum maintenance road at 2 am with tiny snow flakes flitting about i came to know more about Walter. We talked to pass the time as we carried out rigs in ankle deep mud, musing about the situation but generally trying to advance ourselves along the course. As the night continued to smother my will i found myself wondering if what we were doing was safe. Perhaps i wanted a reason to quit, and perhaps it was because i could use a zipper. Whatever the reason i told Walter i needed to stop, eat and adjust clothing. On the lee side of a pole building i fumbled with everything, shoving food into my face and wanting to stop. As we rode on i even began plotting a way out of the misery, looking for signs of a town, somewhere, anywhere to find solace. None was to be had, and it was surely my darkest moment of the ride. I made my intentions clear to Walter who simply replied "well.... let's just keep going". And we did keep going, turn after turn, cue-sheet after cue-sheet. 100 miles to go, then 90 miles to go, now we were in double digits which are more comprehensible than triple digits at that point. Finally, it seemed we were destined for civilization of some sort, but every time it neared us we were steered wide and clear by the route laid forth. Is that someone coming up behind us? Looks like a bike light, hard to tell though? "Hey guys!" It was Jackson, incredible! "did you guys see that snow?". "yeah, we sure did". "Man it was cold last night, how are you guys doing?". "eh, we're doing alright, it's good to see you man". As the sun came up the way it always does we found ourselves at a 24 hour Walmart. The rain was letting up a bit and a consult with someone's weather app revealed that we might actually catch a break. The wind however had no interest in abating. Jackson called into the hotline on our behalf, reporting our intentions to finish and carry on. I think it took all the way to this moment to realize that we might actually finish this thing.

The last 60 miles were hell, pure and simple. I don't really know how Dan did it all night and the next day by himself and the same goes for Greg. I would guess it has something to do with the simple desire to not get caught and to catch the other. Doesn't really matter though, those guys did it, and it was damn impressive. As for us three, we stayed solidified as one, no man would be left behind and we would finish the damn thing together. Much time was spent travelling at speed of 5 miles per hour or less in relentless hills, wind and soft gravel. It didn't matter though, we weren't to be thwarted. Despite each 8 mile section taking roughly an hour we found ourselves at the finish line roughly around noon as far as i can recall. Walter had no brakes so we sent him up the middle and matched our speed to his. I was happy to finish, happy to have those two with me and happy to get my ass off the saddle. Coherence was minimal at this point, 32 hours of Iowa had happened to us and the mission was to get warm and sleep. Someone told us there was a guy out there on a single speed that had a chance of finishing. I would have liked to greet him at the finish but the van beckoned me to rest.

The Terrific Trio; Myself, Walter and Jackson

Team Salsa; Greg Gleason and myself

There are differing opinions on Trans Iowa. Some folks like to offer ideas for what to change, what Guitar Ted should or shouldn't do, and various other inputs. Mark, if you're reading this, don't change a thing you don't want to and know that i'm truly appreciative of the event and experience you've put so much hard work into. The volunteers and first rate, some really good folks that take their time they could spend elsewhere and chose to be involved in such a unique undertaking. I count myself fortunate to have been able to just finish the event and it has expanded my capacity for enduring adversity. My wife is a critical part of the success of this journey, from driving my broken body home to just simply loving and believing in me. Without good equipment and support from the likes of Salsa Cycles, Velocity USA, Train out Pain, Sound Probiotics, Betalain, Wolftooth Components, Grand Rapids Bicycle Company, and 45NRTH (wore my Japanthers!) such an undertaking would be much more difficult if not impossible for myself. To all the folks who toed the line but didn't finish, much respect to you for simply just being there and giving it what you had. It's an experience i won't soon forget.

Here's my Strava for the ride

 The only reason my feet didn't fall off

No water in that pack either

The clothing that got me through

 The clothing that got me through part 2

Destroyed Warbeard

Big thanks to Joe at the East Paris GRBC for resurrecting the Warbeard

Thursday, April 27, 2017

Radical Sabbatical travels south part 1

I've been a bit delayed in getting a blog post up after arriving home last weekend. Life seems to be busier now that we're not working than ever before, but in a good way. We arrived back in Grand Rapids late Saturday night and promptly conked out for a good nights slumber in our own bed. Our first two week plus adventure was a great success, and i think we'd both agree that it was even better than we could have imagined. A large part of this is due to the great friends, old and new, that spent times with us along the way. From simple gestures such as paying for a beer or Gelato to feeding us and housing us for multiple days, all i can say is thank you! Our hearts are full from both adventures, good company and kindness.

Big Woods Brewing

First stop off at Brown County saw us meeting up with a Grand Rapids crew to ride some of the excellent trails and gravel that Nashville, IN have to offer. We rolled into town late Thursday and the only joint that was open was the Pine Room Tavern. As we strolled through the doors we were pleasantly greeted with live Bluegrass music, laughter and Three Floyds beer on tap. We knew right then we were on the right track. Eric Chase and Jay Morrison rolled into town a few hours after us and graciously let us occupy the floor space in their hotel room. The next days were filled with great riding, warm weather, delicious food and some fine conversation. The Big Woods Brewing company has some excellent food and i'd highly recommend the chicken wings and loaded nachos (these were a crowd favorite with our crew). We were joined by Tyler Keuning and Talon Tramper part way through our stay. As the weekend wound down our compatriots traveled back northward and we meandered into Brown County State Park to camp for the evening. Brown County State Park is only a little over 5 hours from Grand Rapids and thus make it a perfect long weekend getaway to camp, bike, hike and enjoy some craft beers.

Hesitation Point

Chillin out relaxin

The climb up to Hesitation Point
I'm lovin' it
Gravel train

I'll admit it was a bit strange at first with everyone heading home to be traveling further south and not back to a desk. Somehow we managed to get over that though. During some internet sleuthing i came across the town of Hot Springs right by the border or Tennessee and North Carolina, and from my brief research it sounded like a cool spot to check out. We made our way through Kentucky, into Tennessee and turned off Interstate 40 onto Highway 25. The drive along the French Broad river on Highway 25 was fantastic with the river wandering through rapids on your right hand side and the Appalachian Mountains surrounding you. Our goal was to find a nice campsite for the evening at little to no cost if possible. Just past the junction of 107 and Hwy 25 is a gravel road called Weavers Bend and it takes you along the river and into the Cherokee National Forest. We elected to take a chance and piloted the Transit over hill and dale to a cool bridge over a waterfall and shortly thereafter a campsite that was stocked with cut wood! Of course, the first site is never quite good enough so we kept venturing along the gravel path and located several other such campsite within a stones throw of the river. As dusk settled we chose a nice clean site with fresh cut pine and made home for the evening. While we were exploring we located the Paint Mountain trail and some other off shoots that allowed mountain bikes. Naturally the next day we geared up and began pedal down the road to the trail head. The climb up to Paint Mountain is scenic but quite steep and climbs over 1,000 feet in just a few miles. We were met with sweeping vistas and the sight of a locomotive winding it's way on a trestle in the valley below. The bench cut trail was certainly not for the faint of heart, but safe nonetheless. If you find yourself heading towards Asheville this is a great spot to spend a day and a night exploring before hitting the city!
Last night camping at Brown County State Park
Weavers Bend - Cherokee National Forest
Campsite on the French Broad River
Paint Mountain Trail

Looking to get some more miles and exploring by bike in, i asked Jenny if she wouldn't mind driving to Hot Springs with the van while i took the long way up and over the mountains through some convoluted path and naturally she obliged. Just south of Paint Mountain were several other peaks of interest with gravel roads and some Appalachian Trail crossings. I came up with what i figured would be a good route and ventured off on the Spearfish to see what kind of trouble i could find. Following the river back along 25 i turned south on 107 and after several winding paved miles found myself at the foot of Round Mountain looking upward at a serpentine gravel climb. I plodded along, taking in the views and exchanging surprise with a Black Snake in the road. Many miles into the trip i located the Round Mountain National Forest campground but found it to be closed until Memorial Day as with many locations of interest so i pushed on up the climb. As i neared Max Patch i noticed that time was not on my side and elected to turn around just short to make it back to Hot Springs before dark. This is where my adventure began. Being myself i decided to take some random forest road that was heading generally downhill as opposed to the known route. According to my somewhat reliable Garmin map it interested the road i was looking for (Wolf Creek road). After descending for some time and watching the map i realized that said road was diverging from my goal route and after some assessment found an ATV trail that headed towards Wolf Creek road and crossed with the Appalachian Trail. Bombing down the ATV trail was awesome and i quickly found myself on a proper gravel road much to my relief. Once again i was on the route, making good time and enjoying the fruits of my ascent. Quickly this all came to an end when i hit a logged out clearing where the road disappeared. Let's take a look at the Garmin, hmm, looks like Wolf Creek road should be just on the other side of this creek, let's wade across. Wolf Creek road wasn't exactly what i would consider a road, but certainly a two wheeled vehicle could pass carefully. Down i went, further and further into the green abyss. Relief swept over me once again as i found an actual signed road and a forest service sign declaring that Wolf Creek Falls were just a half mile ahead. With more pep in my pedals i pushed to the scenic spot, ah yes, waterfalls and a real road. Again, the road promptly ended, but out of the corner of my eye i noticed a huge line of stacked boulders, a tell tale sign of blocking off a road to vehicles. Up goes the bike on my shoulders and gingerly i began hiking up an over the rocks, through no less than a dozen bulldozer trenches and finally find what seems to be "Wolf Creek Road" (maybe 40 years ago....). The path was been overgrown with Rhododendron to the point of narrowly passable on bike or foot, and naming it after a creek was apt indeed as i found myself wading across it many, many times. I couldn't help but wonder who would ever find me it i met my demise be it by bear, snake or bike crash. Not to worry, i'll just take it slow until i find another snake and take off like the hole-shot at Iceman. Somewhere deep within the bowels of Wolf Creek i located a forlorn campground now abandoned and left to the wild, that's neat. What was only an hour or more felt like days and finally, after one more waist deep wade i found myself at a proper trail head and road. Of course i wasn't scared, ha, why would i have been, i knew this was here all along....
Gravel road up to Round Mountain
Narrow winding gravel up high
Logging clear cut, middle of nowhere
Wolf Creek "road"
The road is in there somewhere....
Whew, wasn't even worried....

Arriving in Hot Springs was a relief to be sure, and i was glad to not have been too late past my expected arrival. Hot Springs, NC is an Appalachian Trail town which became quickly obvious with the vagabonds wandering town, and naturally we felt right at home. In need of a shower we forked out some dough to camp the the Hot Springs Campground and found the accommodations to be quite nice, however if you'd like to have a campfire i recommend taking out a loan for firewood. Freshly showered we ventured into town to the Spring creek Tavern and Inn. The food hit the spot, but was nothing to go on about. The beer was cold and we enjoyed listening to thru and section hikers reliving wild memories from the AT. If you're into hiking, fly fishing, biking or just enjoying a quaint mountain town i highly recommend a stop off in Hot Springs.
Well earned

With the weekend approaching, and the goal of meeting up with Allen Wheeler from Grand Rapids in Asheville we set forth further south into the mountains to find a new spot to camp closer to our destination. More Googling led us to find a little campground in the "town" of Meadow Fork aptly named the Meadow Fork Campground. To be sure it wasn't closed i dialed them up on my cellular device while still in Hot Springs and was greeted on the other end by a most distinct Vietnamese southern drawl of the proprietor Miss Ann and were assured that we could find respite at her establishment. The drive along 209 south out of Hot Springs is simply beautiful along a winding paved road and i couldn't help but think how wonderful it would be ripping down on a road bike. One quick turn off 209 onto 1175 found us rolling into Meadow Fork and pulling into the campground and small country store. Being the city folk we are we had approximately $3.89 between the two of us and were poorly prepared to pay with anything other than a plastic card. Thankfully there was an ATM "just over the hill" in the town of Trust. Several wrong turns later, a single scoop in a sugar cone and a hefty fee later we were back cash in hand. By Michigan standards it might as well be August, but down south folks were just getting ready for the tourist season so we pretty much had the place to ourselves. The campground was small but pretty, and the bath house had all the water pressure and warmth we needed. Miss Ann even let us occupy the small outdoor pavilion where we spent our evening cooking on the Coleman, having a tasty beer and watching the stars. All was well until i decided to sharpen a cooking stick for roast sausages over the fire and promptly attempt to remove the end of my thumb with a dull multi-tool blade. Thankfully i packed zero medical supplies (added to the list for the next journey) so we made do with Taco Bell napkins and electrical tape.
The roads were just ok
Hiking up Max Patch
Gratuitous sponsor plug
Our setup at Meadow Fork Campground

While in Meadow Fork we managed to explore Max Patch which is a bald peak on the AT with amazing 360 degree views and partake in a leisurely paced road ride through the valley. While not a quick stop off the highway it's a cool spot to launch some fun hiking and riding expeditions from far away from the bustle of most tourists, After a short stay we ventured onward to Asheville to meet up with Allen for the weekend. We knew right away we would like Asheville as we passed numerous road cyclists on the back roads descending into the city, and of course from its notoriety as a town for folks who like to ride. Short on groceries we stopped off at an Ingles supermarket to imbibe Starbucks coffee and re-stock. I had briefly message with an old road racing friend Jay Dore before our trip down but hadn't made any firm plans so i sent him a note to let him know we were in town. Jay responded quickly letting us know that even though he was busy working we were welcome to say at his place and set us up with instructions and an address. Fully stocked we drove into Asheville proper passing many interesting spots along the way, and i was excited to see that Jay lives just a few miles from the Blue Ridge Parkway which is a major thoroughfare for cyclists and motor-tourists. We made ourselves at home at Jay's house, hanging a hammock in the back yard, exploiting the Wifi, and commandeering the bike stand in the garage to do some much needed bike maintenance. It was good to see Jay when he arrived home from work as we hadn't crossed paths in a few years with me not racing road anymore and he relocating to Asheville for PA school. After some good conversation and catching up we kitted ourselves in full roadie mode to hit the Parkway for an evening ride. The BRP is an exceptional route for road cyclists to enjoy the high country in North Carolina on well maintained tarmac. The evening found the three of us back in town at the Mellow Mushroom enjoying good food and cold beverages. Allen was due to arrive early the next day, and with his arrival we had scheduled an ascent of Mt. Mitchell which is the highest point east of the Mississippi.
Taking over Jay's backyard
Rolling with BamBam on the BRP
Jenny getting it done

Allen arrive early that next morning after driving through the night from home to North Carolina. Being a night shift guy i suppose he's used to strange hours, but nonetheless i was impressed by his will to drive 11 hours then saddle up on a bike to ride 94 miles and 10,000 plus feet of elevation. Jenny elected to ride a shorter loop, joining us for the first portion of the ride up Elk Mountain then returning via the BRP. Jay equipped us with some good local route knowledge to take us through the Biltmore Forest to the base of Elk Mountain. The tight twisty ascent is certainly one way to warm the legs up for the endurance feat that is riding to the top of Mitchell. Turning off from Elk Mountain and onto the BRP is a pleasant change in grade from 7-9 percent down to 3-5 for the most part. We plodded our way up the mountains and into higher vistas at our own respective pace reconvening at times for a snack and to check in. We stopped off at the Visitors center 10 miles from the turn onto 128 which takes you to the top of Mt Mitchell. It was a good thing we stopped as we found out that the concessions atop the summit were not yet open and that they had just opened the day before. It would have been a sad day indeed to arrive at the top out of water with no way to re-hydrate! Not wanting to waste time we pushed forward to the summit and spent some time enjoying the clear skies and views. It's definitely not the easiest ride, but the rewards were tenfold. The descent from the top is blazing with speeds approaching 50 mph, but once you're on the BRP it's more relaxed with a few inclines to tackle before getting back to the city. Arriving back at Jay's house we were happy to see that his wife Kari had arrived and thus more conversation and good times were to be had. Our evening was spent having tacos and re-locating to Kari's Parent's house for room for the three of us visitors.
BRP selfie
Getting closer...
Great success!
Jenny recovering with Survivor and snacks

The next day all five of us met up around noon for an excellent 74 mile route through some small towns, up 215 to the BRP and back to home. Jay dragged us all along for the first portion of the ride, sharing local knowledge of the towns, routes and Strava segments. The big climb up 215 to the BRP from Lake Logan is no joke, and Jay prepped me with knowledge of the 8 plus mile climb and what to expect. With some halfway decent legs i gave it what i had to see where i stacked up against the likes of Brent Brookwalter and John Murphy. Naturally i'm not that fast but was pleased with what i was able to put down. Reconvening on the junction of 215 and the BRP we began our trip back towards home with a stop off at Devil's Courthouse and Mt Pisgah. Check my strava for this ride as it's an awesome route and i highly recommend it for anyone looking to do some road cycling in that area! Taking hospitality up a notch, Jay and Kari had us all over for margaritas by the fire in their backyard along with some great conversation and stories. Kari's parents had plenty of hospitality of their own to dole out, and kindly hosted us for Easter Sunday dinner with their friends. Jenny and I were continually in awe by the kindness that everyone showed us along the trip, but weren't all that surprised based on the kind of folks we know. The first week of the trip was one to write home about, but instead i'm writing about it on this blog.
Refueling pit stop
Devil's Courthouse
Evening fire and stories

Part two will follow shortly as i'm busy preparing for the Trans Iowa V13...

Thursday, April 6, 2017

Departure is imminent

As i'm sitting here writing this, looking out our back door and into the yard where a mixture of freezing rain and snow congregate, I can't help but smile and think back to the every time I've been sitting at my desk at work day dreaming of some grand adventure. There's gear, clothing and bike splayed out every which way in the house, and slowly but surely it is getting carefully packed away into some tote or bag for loading into the van. Although I left work at the end of March it still hasn't sunk in that there's no deadline to return to work, that the next year or more is totally at our discrimination. In some ways it's an ominous task, where do we go? What do we plan to see? After all, it's not a lifetime so there has to be some things that we see and some that we don't. Believe me, I use the word ominous in a good way.

Thanks to friends, family and acquaintances we have enough ideas and travel plans to keep us booked through 2027. The goal isn't to cram in as much as possible, as one might do on a week off in Yosemite National Park. We don't want to just check things off a list, we want to immerse ourselves, if only temporary, into each place we visit. Theoretically we would just stay on the road indefinitely, but we have two dogs that I'm pretty sure we'll miss more than they'll miss us. Lucky for us my mother is super awesome and will take care of them just fine, and I'm doubtful they'll want to return home after 2 weeks at her house. So there is the "structure" of our time off if you will. Depart for 2 maybe 3 weeks at a time, van fully loaded with only the necessary (Jenny, are you listening?), and gallivanting about to some region as detailed as say the Appalachian Mountains, the Southwest or the Rocky Mountains. We'll travel fully equipped to camp regardless of the area, and plan to mooch a couch or two along the way. There's really no set plan other than that, we've got some specific spots we'd like to check out, and some places we'd like to ride bikes but that's about it. When at all possible we plan to rendezvous with friends and visit anyone remotely nearby.

Gear on gear

That brings us to our first leg of the trip, the Appalachian Mountain region. Departure from Grand Rapids is this afternoon, we'll drive down to Nashville, IN to hang out with good friends and ride at Brown County State Park. Once the working folk make the journey back to home base we'll venture further south into Tennessee where we plan to put the road bikes to good use on some of the beautiful country and mountain roads in Smoky Mountain National Park. We'll once again be joined by friends the coming weekend to do some more epic rides. In between the riding there will surely be some tourist trap obligations, local culture indulgence and hikes through the many trails that the area has to offer. The second week will see us hoping over the ridge to North Carolina and exploring Pisgah National Forest, Dupont, Brevard, Asheville and other notable locales.

Looking forward to views like these

Keeping things fast and loose is the name of the game. Being able to motor on down the road to wherever our hearts (or stomachs) take us is modus operandi. Lose the schedule and gain the freedom. Too many years sitting at a desk, running to meetings, abiding and stressing over timelines has worn out it's welcome. Someday surely I'll return to such a life, but that's far off in the back of my mind. It's not easy to de-program yourself from that structured way of living. I think it will be some time before I can finally stop making checklist, chasing down an imaginary daily timeline in my head of tasks to complete. I look forward to molding my brain a different way, getting back to looking at the world as a playground and less as an obstacle course. If you're interested in following along keep an eye out on our Facebook pages, Instagram and here for more "formal" updates. We're looking forward to sharing the experience, and not just pictures and places, but the thinks and thoughts that go with them.

I don't even remember what this is