Get up there Friday night with Bill Nye in the pouring rain. Awesome. Try to time our van exodus to check in between downpours, dodging rain drops and sadness over to the bunkhouse, and settle in to watch the rain from the porch. It's looking like it's gonna be one of those kinda parties. Eventually, Mills and Daily roll in, Jim... I think. Things got kinda blurry as we tried to drink the rain away, and somehow we don't turn in until 1:00AM.
Ouch.
Up the next morning and the ground is moist like a can of Dinty Moore beef stew. Sigh.
Only Jim and I are signed up for the hard ass class. I've already conceded to defeat, but without a surprise appearance from Thomas "Hat Man" Turner, I'm guaranteed that second step (as long as I can finish).
I convince the others to load up on the first shuttle ASAP when it arrives. The loading is more orderly in the past, and it quickly becomes apparent that first on will be last off.
photo cred: Icon Media Asheville
Sorry, gentlemen.We get shuttle up to Ridgecrest, and while the unloading ensued, I realized I needed to head to the port-a-pottie to unload a little myself. When I emerge from the blue closet, everyone is gone or rolling out, save Daily who's holding my bike. Meh.
We get to the top of Rattlesnake after a sweaty amount of effort that I always forget is coming. Line up in an orderly fashion, and Shanna comes around with a bag of warm wine. When in Rome...
Consume my wine, jump on Bill Nye's back wheel when he starts, and watch him ride away. I always kinda forget how brutal of a shock to the system Rattlesnake can be, what with it's high speed, tight, chunderous start, followed up by even higher speed, washed out, rock strewn double track with hard turns to keep your brakes warmed up to proper operating temperatures.
photo cred: Icon Media Asheville
I get down to the bottom alive but also confident that Jim dusted me on this section.
photo cred: Icon Media Asheville
He says he wrecked but only rolled around on the ground for a bit before remounting his attack. We head over to Kitsuma as a group and make our way to the top. We decide to go in a non-spaced-by-a-minute-each group of three to make with the expediency of the day. Bill Nye first, then Jim, then me. I let Jim roll just outta sight and start my way down Kitsuma.
I know this trail very well. Years of ORAMM and ORAMM-related preparing, I know where I can let things go, even on a rigid frok. It was pretty rare that anyone ever needed to get around me at any of the ORAMMs I can remember. I punch it on the couple of small rises, and come around a hot corner... and there's Jim on Bill Nye's tail. I come up on Jim and ring my bell.
"Dicky?"
"... god dammit."
Jim doesn't let me come around, but why would he even? I'm the moron who didn't leave a gap. They end up getting a little space on me, and then I roll up on Bill Nye who took a trip into the weeds, letting Jim get around him. I ride Bill Nye's wheel until the chunder favors his squish, and we roll into the finish seconds apart.
At the bottom, it's all Coke and high fives and what's left of my pocket pizza. We roll out as a large group to Star Gap. On the way over, the skies start to darken. A harbinger of potential doom. I tell Jim that if things look like they're going sideways, I'm going every man for himself. My prescription glasses don't work as well when they're covered in mud.
A rumble of thunder and I take off on my own.
At the base of Star Gap, I get into my long stride, "I got places to be" pace. Get to the start of the descent, ask the riders that were up there waiting if they're going or trying to catch their breath. They reply the latter, so I jump in ahead of them. Once again, years of ORAMMing, I know what to expect here. High speeds, tight switchbacks, pour out to an old gravel road, pedal my dick off until I see the finish line.
It starts to sprinkle, and I hang it out as much as I can all the way to the finish. I can wait for everyone else once the timed sections are done for the day. Roll out the long, sad portion of Jarrett Creek Rd alone, passing gassed riders along the way.
The final stage is super short due to a washed out crater from the June storms. Pretty much a dead sprint for just a few minutes. Before I start, I give some cramping dude all my remaining liquids and mustard. I know I'll live all the way back to camp.
Bust out the stage, hang out at the crater waiting for my little friends...
photo cred: Icon Media Asheville
the rain starts to pick up, I do what I can to improve the impromptu dirt staircase of the side of the hill around the crater with a stick for a shovel. The rain turns off, Mills and Daily roll up, I ask them if they wanna wait for Bill Nye and Jim..."No."
photo cred: Icon Media Asheville
We roll back to Camp Grier to refuel, rest, prepare for day two, and maybe dig a decent hole to crawl out of tomorrow...about the size of that crater.
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1 comment:
No knee pads?
You truly a Bad Ass Hard Ass.
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