'17 Breck Epic: Stage Five

Stage 5 – Wheeler – 32 miles, 4900′ of climbing

No secret that I love this stage.  Loads of hike-a-bike.  The grand equalizer of the "have gears" and "have ones."  Relatively short.  Painful for all.

We start in waves of ten riders based on yesterday's times.  Jeremy and I both in the same wave.  Due to the fact that we spend more time at the aid stations than the average Joe/Jane (especially when there are three of them), we are starting behind riders who aren't actually faster than us... when it comes to riding that is.

And so it comes to be that we are all up in the asses of the starting waves ahead of us on the climb up the Burro Trail.  Much effort is made to get around.  I quickly realize how pointless it would be to stop at the first aid station for our requisite lifestyle beer only four miles into the day.  I ask Jeremy if he thinks mebbe we should carry them to the top of Wheeler Pass, where we can enjoy the view and whatnot.

He agrees.

We pull into the aid station and the volunteer hands me my beer unopened.  Stuff it in my jersey pocket, look down the hill, and see Jeremy with a funny look on his face.

"They opened my beer for me."

The volunteers are getting too good at this.

And so we share in the efforts of disposing the open beer and make our way up the gravel road to the brutal Wheeler Trail.  We manage to get around some riders, but once it becomes single file, we just fall in line.

photo cred: Timothy Faust

Everyone around me is quiet.  Jeremy is about a switchback and a half behind me.  The lack of sounds is killing me.  Boredom.

"You guys.  This isn't a funeral procession!"

"Look around.  There's snow and rocks and mountains and shit."

*silence*

"Anyone got a joke they can tell?"

The guy in front of me asks if I'm easily offended.

"No."

He proceeds to tell me a joke about a dad and a son and making puppies... but he refers to a certain act as "making love."

I'm not offended but I am amused.

I also feel bad, as up here, only the people directly in front or behind you can avtually hear each other.  Amber and Tracy are at least five people ahead.  They don't get to enjoy the non-offensive but ear-filling banter.

On the way to Wheeler Pass, on the part that a normal human on a single speed can ride, I'm behind a woman rider who is breathing in a manner that sounds about ten seconds from death.  She keeps going and going and going.  I suggest she mebbe take a break.  She does not.  Meh.  I pass her and hope she's gonna be okay.

We get to the tippy top of Wheeler, and there's no bacon there this year.  Damn it.  That's what I was saving the beer for this whole time.  The heavy breathing woman gets to the top and goes flat on her back... wheezing.  Jeebus.  Jeremy arrives and we both show our concern.  I offer my vest for the descent.  He offers food.  She doesn't have any of it.

On to the descent down the bacl and then up Mount Goddammit.

It's even worse than I remember.  It doesn't help that I end up behind a coed duo team that has a pretty dominant male rider.  The way he's speaking to her... I just wouldn't talk to a fellow human like that.  I want to get away from the scene.  Not so easily done on the side of a mountain tho.

"GET ON YOUR BIKE!"

"Get of my ass or I will throw you off this mountain and onto an unsuspecting tourist in a North Face coat down on Main Street."

She didn't say that.  I wish she woulda.

Eventually, we reach the highest point we're gonna need to get to before heading back to civilization.  Time to reduce my burden.

 photo cred: Devon Balet

We hit the chunk gnar on the backside, and I'm holding on to Jeremy's wheel better than usual.  I'm able to go faster when the rocks stay in one place.

 photo cred: Lynda Guerrette

We make a wrong turn that was obviously wrong, and I yell down to Jeremy to stop.  I'm super glad he wasn't outta earshot.  We weren't the only ones who went wrong here... which amazes me when we had time to go back and analyze the situation.  Something like seven arrows in the area.

Anyways...

Aid station two and beer and then the mostly climbing piece of the Peaks Trail to the finish.

photo cred: Michael Kane

No margaritas at the finish.  No bacon, pickle, mayo and potato chip sammich either.  Just another "feel my way back" ride to the condo.

One day left.

I break out the decent beer that Iowan single speeder Rick had given me.

I've been wading in the Coors River too long.  Time to swim in a beautiful ocean of decent beer.

From there, we (the tourists I'm sharing a condo with and another racer) head to the brewery that was across the street, and the evening is lost to the winds.

I mean, the Gold Dust stage six is a chip shot, right?