True Grit '26

Long story short, I had an insanely excellent and also memorable time in Utah at the Single Speed aSSault on True Grit Epic.  I may have not been in shape (unless round is a shape), and I mighta been underprepared in some ways and overprepared in others, but still, all was very buenos.

I'm throwing all the random images down at the bottom, so if you're less into wordy words, there you go.

I was initially worried about coming in early enough to get in two days of riding before the actual event, and I wondered if I'd really have any interest in riding the next day even one pedal stroke.  I shouldn't have worried.

We had quite a crew of single speeders staying together.  Kenny, Josh, David, Peyton, Gordon, and myself.  We met up with a larger group of single speeders on Thursday to do the "official" DirtWire TV tour of Zen Trail.   

I've done so many mountain bike endurance races sight unseen, just show-and-go with a very limited idea of what I was getting myself into.  I've never analyzed so many feet of technical trail that I was pretty sure come race day, I'd have none of the beans needed to be given in order to clean them.

I was glad we only "rode" seven miles with eleven hundred feet of elevation gain.  I got to see all the nooks and crannies where one could make good choices as well as bad ones, and some real fine places to leave some skin on the rocks.  Not fully satiated, Keith, David, and I (not to be confused with Keith David and I) headed over to preview the tech bits over on Barrell Roll.  That mighta been a bit too much on day one, but YOLO.

The lessons I learned from doing Moab Rocks on a rigid single speed in 2023 musta not sank in too deeply into my gray matter folds.  Obvs, I was excite to ride the 32" bike around on new terrain, but even with big wheels, desert riding is a cruel mistress to the turgid rider.  Only fifteen miles on the day, but my hands were feeling it.

So the smart thing to do on Friday was to ride over to the infamous Waterfall section.  To be honest, anyone with knowledge of my capabilities and my strong grip to the mortal coil coulda just told me I'd be walking it, so no real need to see it.  All the videos on the internet do not do it justice.  Only two types of racers make it down the Waterfall successfully; extremely competent skilled riders and incredibly lucky idiots.  I'm neither.

"Race" Day.

This is supposed to be a vacation, so despite the packed field of twenty seven single speeders, my goals were simple.  Get this over with as quick and pain-free as possible.  Once we rolled outta town, we were quickly on some silty roads at high speeds.  What with the low light and dust clouds, my confidence wasn't high as I surfed blindly through the washouts, ruts, and sand with hopes that big wheels would compensate for my fork with no moving parts.  I saw quite a few riders eat shit, which did little to bolster my sack nerves.

I can't remember when things got better, but they did.  I missed some of the good lines I learned and then forgot on Zen, and somehow started riding the top part of Waterfall (duh), before we finally got out into the unknown parts of the course.  Bearclaw Poppy looked like a motorcycle enduro track through the desert.  One line turned into four lines then into two and so on for almost three miles of continuous descending, always wondering if I was taking the best line or the worst.  No one passed me, so either I chose wisely or the big wheels were really rolling. 

Paid the $15 for the photo, waited 24 hours, still nada... and so now you get a screen grab.  Thorry not thorry?

Speaking of...

That six or seven miles climb outta that hole?  Mang.  Those wheels were cooking, and I even had a geared rider drafting off me at thirteen to fifteen miles an hour at one point.  Honestly, I think after mile twenty or so, I never got passed again.  I realize there are multiple factors at work here, but I was getting the hang of getting this bike through the tech more efficiently (and slightly less painfully).  Even through the last bits of tech on Rim Rock and Barrel Roll, I was getting a good feel for things.

I finished unscathed.  Neato.

Seventh on the day (although stage-racing Josh beat me as well, so whatever).

Good hangs with friends from all over after the race followed by one more day of riding and staring off cliffs at Gooseberry Mesa and avoiding abrasions.  

Can't say I'm not tempted to go back next year, albeit on a bike with some squish up front, wheel size TBD.

Six single speeders staying in one place and no one can find a chain whip, so the game becomes "who can come up with the next best thing?"

"I thought someone else would bring one..."

A very commonly heard thing in the garage.  

APES STRONG TOGETHER

Many probable and mebbe likely solutions, but only one worked 100% of the time (the above was not it).

So many bikes were worked on in an upside down manner.  Tell me you tension your single speed "right" side up, and I will tell you that you did not unless your right side is upside down.

Fonta and flora aplenty.  St George cacti for example.

I'll never forget the group ride at Gooseberry MeSSa (unless I do, but that's a me problem).

MeSSa MeSSing around.

Little guy on big wheels with something to prove.  It's magically delicious.

Although David's older Kuat rack wouldn't hold the 32" wheels, Josh's newer one would quite handily... so suck it, Pink Bike pundits.  

The final kick in the ding dongs:

Josh found this under the mat in the back of his rig after we'd all packed up and headed home.

So there's that.  We ain't as dumb as we look.

Good news, gooder news

Well... wolf good news wearing sheep bad news clothes but pretty much all better than okay news.

I so wanted to take the 32" wheel Vassago Maximus Ti (Meatplow V.11?) to at the very least a place like DuPont before heading out to Utah this week, but weather and related trail closures and Shart Tarck and Florida and a lack of desire to do any last minute packing led to this about a week ago:

I just felt like I had too much going on to leave this experiment till the last minute.  AFAIK, nobody has said they could fit a 32" bike in a standard bike travel bag.  Just a shit ton of guessing and conjecture that it most certainly wouldn't... but then again, 97% of everything being said right now about 32" wheels is guessing and conjecture.

If the wheels didn't go in with the tires mounted, I was going to have to remove the tires, rinse them out, get them dry enough that they wouldn't get all stuck together inside the bag, and be prepared to reverse all that when I got to Utah... and do the same procedure on the return trip.  

Or just take my 29er and be happy because I used to love that bike?

Stubbornness prevailed.

I had to let out ALL the air (valve core removed), force feed the thing into the wheel slot, reinstall the valve core, and then reinflate to somewhere around 7psi in the hopes that the bead will stay mounted... all of it inside a giant garbage bag in case that fails.  Yeth, it really is stretching out the wheel pouches,

and yeth, I've had to have a seam repaired (or was it a zipper?) on my EVOC travel bag once before...

hopefully I don't mess up my bag... again.

This bike is going to the Single Speed aSSault on True Grit Epic, despite the fact that I'm not so sure rigid is quite the ticket in Utah, but whatevs.  It will still be shits and giggles, I know some of my fellow single speeders want to throw a leg over it, and Dirt Wire Thom wants ALL THE CONTENT.

The gooder news being that I ended up going to DuPont on Saturday, but I wasn't about to take the 32" bike outta the bag and put it back together for just one ride to have to repack it so...

I assumed there was a logical gear on the Vassago Optimus Meatplow V.10, but I was wrong.  I had no idea that the last time I rode it was back on January 4th, after the Winter Shart Tarck trail work day, at the Winter Shart Tarck course.  That meant Shart Tarck gear, not WNC gear.  I didn't look until we were loading Dr Mike's grumbler, so I convinced myself to go grab the tools and sundrious things to shift my gears when we got there.  A decision that was easily arrived upon when Dr Mike realized he was in the same boat as me.

No ride in DuPont on the 32" wheels, so no real riding it outside of Charlotte before just taking into the unknown terrain of Utah, but...

I rode my 130mm forked 29er for the first time in over two months.  This would be the gooder news part.  I still very much love this bike and still consider it my most versatile and fun bike I own.  I expected it to be awkward to go back to 29" wheels after two months of almost nothing but 32", but it wasn't even a thing.  I really gotta give Vassago Tom credit for doing all the maths to make my bike fit similar and making the handling differences negligible.

That doesn't mean that I wasn't a little bummed that I didn't get to throw the big wheels down Hooker and Ridgeline, but oh well.

I can now put away all my concerns about owning two redundant single speeds.  I really do have horses for courses (we won't talk about the Vertigo Meatplow V.7... shhhhhhhh).  

Talk back atcha after I get back from 

Florida, it's like Utah... right?

Back in February, The Pie and I were tiring of the shite weather.  

"We should go to Florida."

"Okay."

I didn't wanna go the right after Winter Shart Tarck was over because I was tired of committed weekends, and with The Single Speed aSSault on True Grit Epic coming up the weekend of the 21st bringing up more same feels...

So of course we go at the same time temps finally warm up in Charlotte and also things happening in terms of war and the Strait of Hormuz and also gas and crowded trails at Santos because of the Fat Tire Festival.

I wanted to ride a bike every day.  The Pie wanted to go to Silver Springs and get on a water-going vessel and see wild things and also do her hammock-to-hot tube-to-hammock-repeat thing she likes to do... and also walk everywhere and stare at Boppit being Boppit.

First things first.

Turtles, birds, alligators, Tik Tok'ing teenage girls... and just as we were leaving, we had an incredible manatee encounter that was insane and also disturbing.  Something about having a 1,000lb sentient beanbag with a grapefruit size brain floating directly under your kayak is slightly disconcerting.

This is either the street we were staying on or an alley where teenagers drink White Claw or both. 

First coupla rides I did were lowkey noodle bar adventures with some trail added in to make it spicy. 
 

Never not gonna stop and admire a sweet wiener drawing.

I was tryna figure out if there was a logical and also safe way to commute over to the trails at Santos on a single speed mountain bike.  Safety first and all.

Danger abounds in Florida.

I decided I didn't wanna ride on narrow 35-45 mile roads on a 30X19 32" single speed that far, so The Pie dropped me off in a happy place on Saturday morning.

 

This ended up being one of two rides that I underestimated just how difficult they would be.  I was gonna follow the 50 mile Epic Route, but skip out with close to 35 miles (and tossing in some Vortex, because when in Santos...).  I didn't take into account the trail traffic, the head phones, the e-bikes, the guy on a BMX bike in jeans, the Bluetooth speakers, the water that I thought would be on the way back but wasn't, the heat... so I was toasted enough that eating a big fat post-ride burger came with zero guilt.  I visited with Shimano Man Troy (who gave me something that if I lose it, I will cry), let some people rip around on my bike...

"Wow, it just feels like a bike."

I also took a few pedals on a Shimano CUES equipped self-powered, automatic shifting bike, and that was insane (that mighta happened the day before tho).

Then back across the street from the Festing and a beer at the bike shop with more conversations about 32" wheels with strangers.

De-toasted myself when I got back home and out walking with The Pie for brewery beers.

Had front row seats to this gentleman's magnificent eight point maneuver into this parallel parking spot (well, almost) that had my head hurting so much I couldn't even figure out how to do it so wrong.

My parking job in one maneuver:

Despite overdoing all the things on Saturday, I'd already planned a 60+ mile gravel route from the house of many unknowns, and once again, overshot the mark on Sunday.

This is Florida gravel?

No, somehow this is Florida gravel?

I'd used part of someone else's Ride with GPS route to curate mine own route. There were gravel portions mismarked as paved and also some trail thrown in there, so a ride I thought I'd knock out in three something hours ended up being more than four.  Oof.  It was buenos despite the feeling of pedaling in place in soft sand and making zero forward progress. 

We ended out trip with fire, and beer, and music, and conversations, and stars.

It was a most excellent trip with The Pie.  I missed my big buddy Watts whom I'd just been down here with almost exactly a year ago.  He woulda made me ride further tho, so I missed him mebbe 90%.

Now, I gotta pack that big 32" wheel bike into a travel case it was never intended to fit into and head to Utah next week.

I gotta get outta here (so I can come back and get outta here again)

Kinda hard to focus on things, what with certain events going on, in terms of war and also crime and also coverups...

I've got a couple bugouts planned, but before I leave, I've been playing around.

I picked this up over two months ago for my gravel bike.  I'd been dragging my feet about getting a Cane Creek eeSilk stem for almost a year, but after hopping on a frand's bike with a squishy stem back in December on a lumpy gravel descent, I caved.  Sure, it's not as sleek as its counterpart, the GXC stem, but one of my favorite things to do on my noodle bar bike is to ride from my house to a trail... to actually ride said trail.  Even with aired down 45mm tires, I was getting the shit beat outta me. 
   

This not only reduces the sting of bouncing through roots and rocks, it also cuts down random road chatter quite nicely.  I was afraid it would feel trbl climbing outta the saddle.  It does not, and for the most part, I don't think I'd know it was there if I was riding blindfolded... except for the part where I'd probably ride into a tree because I can't see.  It's one of the few parts that will be transitioned to my new noodle bar bike whenever I get around to the getting of it.

I'd also been dragging my feet on another acquisition.  I don't even know how many months I've been deep-diving into electric mini pump options, because I do feel like there's a case use for them.

So many options.

This one does this but doesn't do that and this one lasts this long and that one has these features and so on.

Analysis paralysis.  

Topeak made the decision for me.

(balls for size comparison)

Now that I have one, I've expanded my view slightly, in terms of "case use."
 
The E-Booster Digital Mini was a lot of what I was looking for.  Small package, a battery capacity that's enough to fill a large 29er tire enough times that I'm not worried about it going dead on me, a gauge with the ability to set the desired pressure, and an LED flashlight that I didn't know I'd even want but now do.  Although I thought I'd eschew the extension hose, I ended up agreeing with the Bike Rumor review that it's super convenient to select your pressure, screw the hose to the valve, power it on, and walk away. 

I used to think I'd just use the electric pump when I was traveling by plane, where CO2s aren't allowed in your luggage (unless they're attached to an inflatable life preserver, then they are considered safe?).  I've now grabbed it multiple times to use at home, and I toss it in my bag for day trips.

I'll say this tho, it's on the pricey side.  That said, it offers a lot that the others don't, and I'm not sure the customer service will be there on some of those ones I'd considered purchasing from Amazon.  I've only dealt with Topeak's customer service once before.  I broke a ratchet through a user error related issue (mebbe don't try to break a stuck pedal free with a 3" ratchet), and they shipped me a new one, no questions asked.  That means something to me.  

One more thing... or two.

I think it was last summer that I'd vowed to take my day-to-day hydration a little more seriously.  I'd normally been a straight water guy on rides that were short enough that I didn't feel the need to get calories from my bottles.  Last July, I was doing a butt load of gravel bike urban riding because it was BF'ing hot outside, and mountain biking in 90°+/1,000% humidity weather sucks all the balls.  Something was lacking... and then I had my derp moment.

I stick with Carborocket products because I've had zero tummy issues using them.  Some of the flavors I don't like so much.  Some I do.  I think half the battle is finding something palatable, and this ACQUA+ is... to me.  Quite palatable.  I also picked up some 333 in the new tangerine flavor that I'll try out on bugout #1 before fully committing to a much more consequential bugout #2. 
 

So, from here.  Do a thing.  Come home.  Figure out how to stuff ten pounds of shit into a five pound bag (a 32" wheeled bike into an EVOC travel case that definitely was not made with 32" wheels in mind).  Then a weekend of riding some other bike that has normal wheels in a last minute desperate effort to gain a tad bit more fitness. 

And then?

The Single Speed aSSault on True Grit Epic.

Winter Short Track '26: Race Five

Winter Shart Tarck couldn't consume my brain any longer.  Unless someone has a serious setback, the top five spots on the overall podium are locked in, so my thoughts start wandering to the upcoming Single Speed aSSault on True Grit Epic.  Keep in mind, Türd has tried to talk me into going for at least three years, but I can't imagine being fit enough to do fifty or a hundred offroad miles in March... well, fit enough to do more than survive and mebbe have fun.  That meant that this past Saturday, I went out and burnt some of my weekend matches on an intown, long'ish for me this time of year ramble.  I just got a Topeak Midloader Drybag I'd been itching to try anyways, so no better time than now.  I'm not known to use bike luggage, but one cold ride this past December without carrying good clothing options has me thinking differently.

As a reminder of just how old I am, I noticed that trophy is out on the side porch sitting on a shelf made out of an old wine box.  The various physical representations of my accolades are strewn randomly about the house, as it seems oddly vain to have them all collected together for display, yet somewhat disrespectful to the events themselves to throw them in the attic or toss them out.  I've told my kids just let the bulldozers that tear our house down deal with their disposal when I'm ded.  Anyways, according to my memory, 2006 was the third year of the Winter Shart Tarck Series (then known as the Sir Edmond Halley's Cup), the very first time they offered up a single speed class, and also the first year of the National Ultra Endurance Series, and also also the first year of this blerhg.

Jeebus.

Sunday, I finally got to do my old school bike commute to Winter Shart Tarck, partially to warm up but mostly to get more True Grit garbage miles.  I loaded up my backup with everything I thought I might need and was well on my way before I realized:

* I tossed in a tube and  CO2 in case I flatted in one of the glass-strewn wastelands between my house an Renaissance Park but brought zero tools to remove a wheel.  I need to remember the Vertigo Meatplow V.11 has no tools stowed away in some hole.

* I'd overfilled my tires planning on airing down when I got there, but left my Topeak digital pressure gauge at home. With 32" wheels, there's a big difference between 19 and 14.5 PSI. 

* I didn't bother packing a rain shell and was only wearing a cotton hoodie, and as soon as I turned west, the sky was filled with dark clouds.

This will all be fine.

It didn't rain.  I didn't flat.  Charles from Excite Bikes hooked me up on pressure, so I have no excuses.

I have no issues clipping in at the start and found myself out front for all of seven seconds before I took my foot off the gas realizing I had no business up there.  Long story very short, I knew Jason would have to beat me with three riders between us to bump me off a fifth spot for the overall, so I mark him and anyone else that might impact things.  

My allergies have been filling my head with hot pressure, so any effort I can save might keep me from sleeping on the couch and coughing all night.  I get around him on the second lap, see Neuffer and Keith up ahead duking it out for the fourth spot, so I just keep my efforts at 95% hoping to gap Jason enough to not have to be worried.

You should see what 100% looks like.

FWIW: I get enough of a gap that I can take one ceremonial stab at the A-Line climb, fail, run the rest of the way, and insist on an old school hand up from the dwindling crowd of spectators at the top.

I complete my "goal" of the Perfect Attendance/ Mr. Congeniality Award, AKA fifth place.

I also failed at my goal of pushing my lungs and sinuses and ended up on the couch Sunday night.  Nice work.  It was pleasant having The Pie and Boppit out there at the final race yelling and barking encouragement from the sidelines.

Now to focus on Single Speed aSSault on True Grit Epic.

Oh... the bag?

It fits three and definitely not four beers.

Here's hoping the bags fits my new gravel bike... oh, and who wants to buy my "old" gravel bike?

Winter Shart Tarck '26: Race Four

Despite waking up Sunday and looking out the window at the steady rain, I was in a great mood.  I considered yesterday's race a "win."  Well, as much of a win as I can taking credit for snagging fourth place in a strategic race while ignoring the fact that we had Türd in sight but we got caught up in what some call "negative racing" whilst a spot on the podium was just there mebbe in reach?

I was fu;;y prepared.  I'd already put Forekasters front and rear on the Vertigo Meatplow V.7 AND mounted up two fenders to keep the mud outta my eyes, eschewing the 32" wheeled bike and its not mud friendly tires.  I'd put an industrial garbage bag over the front seat of my car, and the plan was to step outta the car fully dressed, double rain outfitted, and start warming up immediately.  Plan on being back at the car with ten minutes to go to shed my layers down to race approved rain gear, then head to the start.

The single speeders line up, and we are few.  Normally, we are upper teens or twenty plus deep, but today we are nine.  First place overall (Avery) lines up next to me, and I see his tensioned single speed and wonder how that's gonna work out.  Historically, it seems like it's been a recipe for not certain but definitely potential disaster when there's mud at Renni.  I'm never been anywhere near him after the first twenty seconds of the race, so whatever. 

Just as it happened yesterday, I can't clip in on the first or second try.  Dammit.  People are flying past me, and I feel like I'm riding backwards.  We get to the hairpin before hitting the woods, and I can count the riders ahead of me.  Eight.

I went from being second into the woods at race number one to second to last at race number four.  Meh.

photo cred: Pisgah Paparazzi

I can only guess how things fell apart from there.  My heart rate is pegged, but it feels like everyone is effortlessly riding away from me.  Jason is the next rider ahead, but every time I give it a little go-go juice, he keeps his ten second gap.  I see a rider sitting next to the trail, but I'm thinking "is that a rider on the side of the trail?"  I'm not seeing or thinking straight but mebbe?  Everything and everybody is covered in mud, and the few spectators in the woods are just random shadows.
 

photo cred: CLT MTB

Either way, I decide to pump the brakes, or in this case, pedal less hard.  In terms of the whole series, this double points day (of course it's double points day) isn't going to impact my situation all that much as long as there are no riders between Jason and I, so why am I risking my biscuits sliding around in the mud?

Well, then I see first place overall in the series (Avery) running with his bike on the trail ahead of me (actually adjacent through the woods but also way ahead), and I realize if I don't get my head outta my ass, there goes a larger double points leap for Jason.  Ack.

I had to suffer a little more ouch to get around Avery before I could drop my muddy clothes into a puddle in the parking lot under the semi-cover of my tiny hatchback, all for a hard(ly) fought for sixth place.

That was fun(?) but mostly hard and somewhat scary.

One to go.

Winter Shart Tarck '26: Race Three

This year, the Winter Shart Tarck Series has offered up the full gambit of conditions in the first four races.  We had a day in the mud, not one but two postponed races in a row due to ice then snow, a cold AF go at it on frozen trails, and then this past weekend's back-to-back suns out/guns out Saturday followed by racing in the rain on trails that looked like rivers and ponds on Sunday

I came into Saturday's race with a slightly more positive outlook on the world than I did a whole week ago.  Despite my desire to ride my bike the five miles to the race old school style, I drove over early so I could take a few runs at the A-Line climb option between the earlier races to see if I could use it.

I could not.  

I still suck.  I just don't consistently have the power needed at a clutch moment on the climb to keep the bike rolling.  

Whatever.

I'm wearing new shoes today because someone was selling some high end, super-stiff jobbers they'd won in a raffle at a cheap enough price.  I mean, I'm gonna run outta yellow shoes eventually, so I might as well start getting used to a different shoe option (black, boring).  I had a bad feeling that clipping into the pedal on the first try might not be as intuitive as I'm used to, and I'm correct.  I miss clipping in until the third pedal stroke, and I'm off the back of where I was wanting to be going into the woods.

It's a seven lap race, so keep in mind, when what happened exactly where isn't really stored in my memory when my brain was operating on 50% of its needed oxygen for full processing power for thirty five minutes.  The following is based on a true story tho.

I managed to move up on the first lap and also witness Jason taking the A Line ahead of me and opening up a huge gap over the riders taking the B Line that were just in front of him on the lead in.  He's close enough in the overall points that I have to be concerned about him, but damm... he's gonna get a multiple second advantage over me every time he cleans the A Line.

I catch up and get around him, which only means that he gets to use my tiny draft on the gravel and pavement... and we repeat the same arrangement on lap two.  He passes me and develops a gap when he takes the A Line, and I have to close it back down, get out front, try to drop him, and he gets to use my diminutive draft again.

Third lap, and I realize I have a weapon... if I wanna use it.  Jason is right on my wheel on the gradual climb up to the options... and I slow waaaay down, robbing him of his precious, much-needed momentum to nail it up A Line, forcing him to follow me up the B Line.

"Dammit, Dicky," he said lovingly.

Well, Jason is a friend, and while race is race, I decide I won't do that to him again.  Also, I know that titty-dicking around with him back here fighting over fourth place is doing nothing to close down the gap on Thürd... I mean Türd, and smart frands would work together to do just that... key word being "smart."

photo cred: Pisgah Paparazzi

The race wasn't necessarily decided by our occasional intermingling with lapped traffic, but it certainly impacted it.  I got caught up behind someone going up B Line on the second to the last lap while Jason was perfection personified on A Line, and the match I planned on using to deliver a death blow effort was wasted getting back to his wheel.  Pretty sure on the final lap, we were both slowed down on the lead in, and he went for it anyways, despite having no momentum... and finally failed for the first time.

And that was the race for fourth place, done and dusted.  Dammit.  One top three would be nice, but that's the way this cookie done went and crumbled.