The first thing we did at TA2 was talk to the film crew. That and eat, but some of us did more talking while others did more eating. We also learned that the Mt Baker section of the race was going to be removed. As a team we were really looking forward to this section of the race. One reason being that we did the majority of our prerace training in the Columbia Gorge and on Mt Hood, which means we were good at going up hill. If you have been to either location you will understand, but if not, here is a typical trail in the Gorge. Dog Mountain: 7 miles round trip with 3000 vertical feet elevation gain. The good news was the we would not have to carry our mountaineering gear on the rest of the section which included over 30 miles of mt biking, several miles of trekking and a ten mile ride and tie.

After an hour of sleep, which was our first in around 30 hours, we headed off for the ride and tie. The idea behind the ride and tie is simple, two people ride bikes while two people run. Taking a clue from the elite teams, which our support crew had seen earlier, the people on bikes carried two backpacks while the other two people ran with no loads. By having short intervals we were able to keep up a fast pace and got to the gear drop where two more bikes sat waiting.

The first bike section of the race is where route choice started playing an even more important part of the race. While looking at the map, we had chosen to back track a little and ride up a valley and around a small mountain. Some teams chose to go over the hill. Both routes ended up at a junction where the nice maintained fire road went right. The one we had to go on went straight. O well this was adventure racing. Besides, at least this time there was actually a trail where it should be.

We started up the single track, pedaling slowly and getting to get over obstacles. The distances between dismounts quickly became so short that it made more sense to simply walk our bikes. And walk we did. Up the first hill and then onto the switchbacks. We crossed five or six creeks, many of which were overflowing thanks to the resent three days of rain. After we crossed all the creeks on the side of the mountain, we got the enjoyment of hitting the switchback and crossing them all again.

We continued to repeat the process of crossing and recrossing and recrossing again as we made the way up the mountain. O Wait one more crossing to go. The good thing was the higher up the mountain we got, the less water was in the creeks. The bad thing was more of the water was on the trail or simply running down the side of the hill. As climbed even higher, the trail ended up flowing a creek for a while. Lucky for us, and our already damp feet, the creek had over taking the trail as it flooded. Now with socking wet bike shoes we continued our tromp up the hill. Eventually there was simply an inch or so of water everywhere. Where the water was not running down the hill or pooling, it simply appeared to seep and ooze out of the ground.

We had started our bike ride near dusk and by the time we reached a high plateau on WET MOUNTAIN. Sounds better if you repeat it with an echo effect. WET MOUNTAIN TIN Tin tin in. So with completely drenched feet and lower legs, heavy mud covered bikes and full packs we finally stopped climbing up Wet Mountain. Now all we had to do was find the CP.

According to the map, CP11 sat next to a lake. Only makes sense that all the water running down the hill, so there should be even more and deeper water on top. We reached the CP wet, cold and tired. The volunteer relit his fire after we awoke him and dragged him out of his tent. We sat on the cold mud and bushes, took off our socks and shoes, tossed our feet up, ate and enjoyed the fire.

As we climbed up Wet Mountain we noticed that not a single team had come back down the trail. That was a good sign because that meant there was a better way down the other side. Nothing was real visible on the map, but this is Washington, so there are plenty of trails not on the map. That was a motivating factor that had keep us going up on the push a bike climb. That and the fact we planed to sleep at the CP.

I learned during my next hour of crappy sleep that space blankets are not all they made out to be. Whomever designs my particular blanket apparently did not understand the complete idea of a blanket. In my opinion a blanket should be large enough to wrap around your body and long enough to cover both your feet and shoulders. My blanket turned out to be just small enough to leave a gaping hole as I wrapped it around myself, and just short enough not to cover either my feet or shoulders. I rolled left. I rolled right. I sat up; I laid down. I ended up with some torn strips of reflective silver material that I wrapped around myself under my jacket and hat. I had noticed that Reed and Chad with their space bags were having much more success at sleeping than I was. That is something I would remember at the next TA.

An hour of crappy sleep later it was time to go. It was five A.M. and I was looking forward to some fun downhill riding. All we had to do was follow the orange ribbon for a short distance and then we would find a trail. Well that was the theory at least. What we did find was somewhat different.

We started out fine following the orange ribbons through a bog, which on a nice dry summer day would have been beautiful. Filled with water at five in the morning, it was more like a game of leapfrog. We leaped from dry patch to dry patch trying to keep from sinking into the mud past our ankles and losing our shoes. Once pass the bog we found THE TRAIL.

The Trail started out as freshly stomped underbrush. As the hill got steeper, it quickly turned into a wide bear strip of freshly mulched soil, with just a hint of morning dew on it to create a nice slide. Going down this section would have been fun, if not for the fact that we each had a bike to contend with. Option one was to hang the bike in front of you as you swung from tree to tree. This option worked as long as the next tree you were going to grab was not to far away. If that happened, the bike would gain too much speed and you fell down. Option two was to keep the bike next to you, which meant you were contently kicking it and getting hit by the pedals. Option three was to drag the bike behind you. This one worked until the hill got too steep, you slipped, fell over and then the bike ran you over. Romancing the Stone was the topic of conversation for some strange reason.

We made our way down the hill rotating between the three options. Just before sunrise we saw some lights down the hill. They were not moving and some were flashing. There were way to many lights to be just the headlights of a team. It must be the camera people. Well, it turned out we found a team that had set up camp three hours earlier and had turned on all their strobes and some of their bike lights. They claimed the trail ended right on the other side of the thicket of trees that lay deadhead. But on the good side, two teams had passed them and not come back.

Onward we pressed, but only shortly. It was true the trail did end. It happened to end at a 50-foot waterfall. Lucky for us three other teams had already become backlogged at the waterfall and were searching for alternate ways down. Now up to this point there was a trail that all teams were following. Because all teams were following the same route, so a trail had formed. Kind of the chicken or the egg idea.

After the waterfall, it became every team for themselves. After looking at the map, I decided that there was a road down to our left. How far in either direction I was not sure, but if we continued straight like most teams we would hit a large river at the bottom of the hill and then we would have to forge it. Although the sun was up, it was not warm and I was not in the mood to forge a river filled with fresh rain and snow runoff.

As we moved, the bushes got thicker and closer together. Since I appeared to be the only person, not just on our team, but the surrounding teams as well, on the mountain having a good or shall I say not bad time I lead the way. It quickly became obvious that options one through three for bike whacking had became obsolete thanks to the ever-thickening vegetation. It was now time for option four, the bike chuck.

The bike chuck is a simply, but yet incredibly efficient way to perform a bike whack. All it takes is one person who happens to have a piece of crap heavy bike and is willing to throw it down the hill into the bushes, then push everything down. Lucky for us, my bike fit the description and I was in just the right mood to throw it down the hill. The colorful metaphors I continued to hear from some of my teammates let me know that I was not making quite big enough trail. Maybe a machete would have helped. I wonder if that is on the banded equipment list? Potty mouth was soon renamed Sherman Mouth.

Finally we reached the road and enjoyed a fast downhill for the final 500 feet of the descent. After we crossed the bridge over the river and the fire road started up. This is when I noticed the true effects of option four for bike whacking. The gear system on my bike had become quite complicated. The only way I could downshift was to shift into granny gear and wait. The steeper the hill the longer it took actually shift. Now to gear up I had to shift up two gear, yes, one higher than I wanted, wait till my bike shifted one gear up, then move my shifter back down one gear so it was in the correct aliment. Think this is complicated now, try it after 40 plus hours of racing with less than two hours of sleep.

Somehow my bike continued to work and we cruised along. At one point we made a wrong turn. Instead of going down hill, we started going up hill. Now my teammates will say this was an honest mistake and they simply misread the map. I say it was their way of torturing me and getting even with me for dragging them into SPQ. It turns out that I am by far the worse hill climber on bike on our team. Add that with the inability to shift my bike smoothly and I was in for a crappy climb. A half hour and 1000 feet later, either the error of our ways was discovered or the enjoyment of torturing me had subsided. Whatever the case was, we started downhill.

I have read stories about bonking and watched the affects on TV, but had never experienced the phenomenon myself. That was until half way down the hill on my bike. As I look at the map now, I see there are four large switchbacks on the road we flew down. I remember one of them, and that is only because I opened my eyes just in time not to go off the road into the ravine. My eyes opened again and I was going straight. The next opening of my eyes I was still going straight, the problem was I was facing the wrong direction, which happened to be uphill. Yes that means I was going backwards down the hill. Lucky for me, I possess excellent crashing skills and techniques, so I was not hurt as I rolled backwards down the middle of the road. I sat in the middle of the road contemplating sleeping when I heard Chad yell if I was all right. I somehow got to the side of the road, shut my eyes and slept. It is amazing what five minutes of shuteye can do.

After my five-minute nap, we headed off to CP16. Once we got there, we dropped off our bikes and began what should have been a five to eight hour trek. It was mid-afternoon and thou we were tired, we felt good and were looking forward to eating and sleeping at the next TA. Team Crested Butte took off right in front of us. Those guys finished top ten last year. We must be doing well. Thirtieth place said the CP volunteer.

Sometime during our previous two sections of bike and bushwhacking our sprite and confidence that actual trails existed was broken. This, inexperience and sleep depravation lead to an interesting navigational route choice on our part. Six plus hours into our track, trudging up and through thick bushes, weeds that were choking out the remaining trees of an old clear-cut, we came to a decision. In the words of the great and knowledgeable Homer Simpson, We will never speak of this shortcut again. Since I am in a quoting mood I will go with Forest Gump and say, And that’s all I have to say about that.

Many hours later and eight miles of fire roads we reached a dam. Instead of getting to the TA at say 9 P.M., like expected, it was now 4 A.M. and we still had to cross the dam and then go up the road. Chad and Susan were tethered together so neither one of them could drunkenly walk off the road without taking some company. Reed had long come to the conclusion that there were cameramen in the trees along with other assorted stuff. I was the only one on the team who was mostly coherent, or so I thought. As I approached the dam I noticed there was a picnic table on the side of the road. At this table there were many school children having a nice picnic. I even saw a balloon or two. Cool, it maybe a birthday party. But what is the guy on the mountain bike doing there? And why are they having this picnic at 4 AM? O wait…my bad it just a big bush. Great we are all goofy now. Good thing we only have a quarter mile to go.


Will our fearless foursome make it to the TA? Find out in the Chapter IV.