So 9-11-10 was slated for the Pisgah Badass race/ride. This course was the evil vision of Pisgah Works. There was little known about the ride, save for the cue sheet on the Pisgah Works website. In bold letters it promised fun, pain, and possible injury. Sweet, I'm in! The previous night was host to the New Belgium brewery Clips of Faith tour. With the Pisgah Badass having a start time of 9 the next morning, I figured I would hang out for a couple hours before turning in early. Highlights of the Clips of Faith festival were: seeing lots of people riding bikes to the event, tasting a few select for event only beers (mmm peach), getting my kick ass socks from Shanna, making a rad button, and seeing friends in various stages of drunkedness.
I awoke at 6:30 to a familiar but dreaded sound. Nope, not the alarm clock, but the steady pinging of raindrops on the roof. Great, I don't recall if there is a rain contingency built into the plan. Well, it is called the Pisgah Badass. I load up the bike, fill a couple bottles with craptastic tasting sports drinks, arm warmers, wool hooded jersey, Pisgah map, and cue sheet. The drive is uneventful, and I pull into the ranger parking lot. Awesome, 8:40 and not another soul. This is not encouraging. I start to get dress and then ride over to the Black Mountain trailhead. Crap, still no people. At about 9 (the stated start time) I notice a group of about 8 take off. I didn't recognize anyone in the group, so I continued to circle the parking lot waiting for any familiar face to show up. If I had looked more closely, I would have noticed that Adam Penny was leading that group, but I wouldn't discover that until about 4 hours later. Finally, I get sick of waiting and set off on my own. A very nice girl informs me that a group, left at 9. I laugh and pedal on alone in the rain.
The climb/walk up Black is painful, and it hadn't even started to rain hard yet. I figure I will do this ride at my own pace, for fear of injuring myself alone. I'm armed with the cue sheet, waterproof map, and an assortment of snacks and clothing layers. I am prepared for the long day ahead. At the top of Black, I cross the first rider that has opted out of the ride. He says that pushing up Black pretty much took it out of him, and that he is heading back to the car. I make sure that he knows his way back, and continue on my way. Down Buckhorn, the increasing rain is making the sand stick to the tires and flings into my face. Good thing I wore glasses, oh wait, I didn't. On to South Mills where I come across my second rider. We chat a bit and he says that he has had enough of the rain and talks about a little misadventure he had further down. On down the trail I come across the third rider. Sweet, another singlespeeder! I finally get a head count of how many other riders started out, and come to find that Pisgah Productions was no where to be found, so the group made the executive decision to start the ride anyway. Apparently there are 8 riders total, so that leaves 5 more to find.
Seems though most of the riders are turning back on Squirrel, and that the torrential rain is wreaking havoc on riders and bikes. Squirrel pretty much tries to kill me as always, I continue my pace of caution, especially with more wet root beds being encountered, and less riders in the woods every hour to help me out if I wreck myself. I come across a group of 3 heading back a third of the way into Squirrel, that makes 5 headed back. Laurel Creek to Bradley, I finally come across Adam and an unknown bearded singlespeeder. Adam calls out, asking if I'm doing Badass. I confirm that I am, although not feeling like much of one right now. That was 8. I am now alone in the woods.
I encounter a guy on South Mills while consulting my map, we chat a bit and come to find that he and his family had come out to camp. He says they had not expected the torrential down pour and had brought a tent with a fist sized hole in it. He was making the lonely trudge back to the truck to head into town to go buy a new tent. I wished him luck and headed on pushing my bike up to Turkey Pen parking lot. Under the shelter of the info board, I took stock. I had about 2/3 full bladder of water, 1.25 bottles of sports drink (FYI cytomax tastes like crap. Never again), 1 peanut butter and honey sandwich, no dry clothes, soaked electronics (phone, camera), 6 loose spokes, and 2 sets of brake pads that were spent. That's right, my brakes were done. No amount of adjusting or fiddling was going to bring them back. There was literally only a couple millimeters of pad compound left on the plates. I had no brakes, during a ride that necessitated brakes. I still had to cross back over Squirrel and down Black. This did not look good. I had to make a decision. Ride for pride, or play it safe and get to ride another day.
I swallowed my pride. Riding back 280 in the down pour was terrifying. Small shoulders on the road and deep puddles made for an interesting ride. I had no lights with me and hoped that I wasn't going to get hit from behind. Coming over the crest towards Brevard, I see the blue lights of 4 squad cars. I'm certain a motorist had called the police to inform them that a moron cyclist was riding down the highway. I pedal past without incident. Making the turn back to 64, I'm on the last leg of the ride. I stop by the Davidson River parking lot, and see that two cars remain. Adam and the unknown singlespeeder are still on the the trail. Good for them. Pulling up to Chester, I slide open the side door and find relief in putting on warm dry clothes. As soon, as I'm comfortable, the doubt starts to sneak in, and I play the what if game. Should I have stuck it out? Should I have just walked the steeps, and not worried about brakes? The return leg was way easier, why didn't I just gut it out. Oh, well, I try to convince myself that I made the right decision. I did find solace in the fact that I was never tired, physically I could have gone on. The rain, and mental games got the best of me that day. I hope to make another go of it soon, I feel like this ride is unfinished, just on hold.
I awoke at 6:30 to a familiar but dreaded sound. Nope, not the alarm clock, but the steady pinging of raindrops on the roof. Great, I don't recall if there is a rain contingency built into the plan. Well, it is called the Pisgah Badass. I load up the bike, fill a couple bottles with craptastic tasting sports drinks, arm warmers, wool hooded jersey, Pisgah map, and cue sheet. The drive is uneventful, and I pull into the ranger parking lot. Awesome, 8:40 and not another soul. This is not encouraging. I start to get dress and then ride over to the Black Mountain trailhead. Crap, still no people. At about 9 (the stated start time) I notice a group of about 8 take off. I didn't recognize anyone in the group, so I continued to circle the parking lot waiting for any familiar face to show up. If I had looked more closely, I would have noticed that Adam Penny was leading that group, but I wouldn't discover that until about 4 hours later. Finally, I get sick of waiting and set off on my own. A very nice girl informs me that a group, left at 9. I laugh and pedal on alone in the rain.
The climb/walk up Black is painful, and it hadn't even started to rain hard yet. I figure I will do this ride at my own pace, for fear of injuring myself alone. I'm armed with the cue sheet, waterproof map, and an assortment of snacks and clothing layers. I am prepared for the long day ahead. At the top of Black, I cross the first rider that has opted out of the ride. He says that pushing up Black pretty much took it out of him, and that he is heading back to the car. I make sure that he knows his way back, and continue on my way. Down Buckhorn, the increasing rain is making the sand stick to the tires and flings into my face. Good thing I wore glasses, oh wait, I didn't. On to South Mills where I come across my second rider. We chat a bit and he says that he has had enough of the rain and talks about a little misadventure he had further down. On down the trail I come across the third rider. Sweet, another singlespeeder! I finally get a head count of how many other riders started out, and come to find that Pisgah Productions was no where to be found, so the group made the executive decision to start the ride anyway. Apparently there are 8 riders total, so that leaves 5 more to find.
Seems though most of the riders are turning back on Squirrel, and that the torrential rain is wreaking havoc on riders and bikes. Squirrel pretty much tries to kill me as always, I continue my pace of caution, especially with more wet root beds being encountered, and less riders in the woods every hour to help me out if I wreck myself. I come across a group of 3 heading back a third of the way into Squirrel, that makes 5 headed back. Laurel Creek to Bradley, I finally come across Adam and an unknown bearded singlespeeder. Adam calls out, asking if I'm doing Badass. I confirm that I am, although not feeling like much of one right now. That was 8. I am now alone in the woods.
I encounter a guy on South Mills while consulting my map, we chat a bit and come to find that he and his family had come out to camp. He says they had not expected the torrential down pour and had brought a tent with a fist sized hole in it. He was making the lonely trudge back to the truck to head into town to go buy a new tent. I wished him luck and headed on pushing my bike up to Turkey Pen parking lot. Under the shelter of the info board, I took stock. I had about 2/3 full bladder of water, 1.25 bottles of sports drink (FYI cytomax tastes like crap. Never again), 1 peanut butter and honey sandwich, no dry clothes, soaked electronics (phone, camera), 6 loose spokes, and 2 sets of brake pads that were spent. That's right, my brakes were done. No amount of adjusting or fiddling was going to bring them back. There was literally only a couple millimeters of pad compound left on the plates. I had no brakes, during a ride that necessitated brakes. I still had to cross back over Squirrel and down Black. This did not look good. I had to make a decision. Ride for pride, or play it safe and get to ride another day.
I swallowed my pride. Riding back 280 in the down pour was terrifying. Small shoulders on the road and deep puddles made for an interesting ride. I had no lights with me and hoped that I wasn't going to get hit from behind. Coming over the crest towards Brevard, I see the blue lights of 4 squad cars. I'm certain a motorist had called the police to inform them that a moron cyclist was riding down the highway. I pedal past without incident. Making the turn back to 64, I'm on the last leg of the ride. I stop by the Davidson River parking lot, and see that two cars remain. Adam and the unknown singlespeeder are still on the the trail. Good for them. Pulling up to Chester, I slide open the side door and find relief in putting on warm dry clothes. As soon, as I'm comfortable, the doubt starts to sneak in, and I play the what if game. Should I have stuck it out? Should I have just walked the steeps, and not worried about brakes? The return leg was way easier, why didn't I just gut it out. Oh, well, I try to convince myself that I made the right decision. I did find solace in the fact that I was never tired, physically I could have gone on. The rain, and mental games got the best of me that day. I hope to make another go of it soon, I feel like this ride is unfinished, just on hold.
Late Start
Pisgah in the mist
Pads after the ride
Random video time 'cuz no one reads this anyway.
Pisgah reads this. Nice ride. Good call. It wasn't a good day for the Pisgah Badass. We made the best of it. We had White Pines group camp with food, beer, and music. We'll try again this year. See you in Sept. Hit us up for a day Pisgah. We'll join you for a Badass pre-ride.
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