Skip right past the postponed Watershed Race that I was supposed to do on Oct 4th, and with that off the table, I could focus on getting ready for Single Speed Worlds in Port Jervis NY. And by "getting ready," I mean forgetting clutch items like a rain jacket, layers, correct size gloves (?), spare shoes, etc.
I drove up to Greensboro early on Wednesday so I could watch Watts take care of last minute bike shop stuff and finish building his Vassago Maximus 32".
Hours later, we were schralping in Danville, VA... Watts getting his first taste of the big wheels.
"I get it."
That's a rave review coming from Watts.
Brewery by a shallow creek, another brewery where I got a Ruben the last time I was there thinking I said Cuban, and a hotel not as far up the road as we anticipated, but whatevs. Award winning breakfast buffet and all...
The next day, we stopped in Michaux to see what the fuss was all about there. Rocks, rocks, rocks, logs, more rocks, no trail markers, and not much in the way of speed or what grumpy old people call "stupid flow." Unfortunately, we picked a route off of TrailForks that finished with a descent... right through private property that had a game camera in the trees at the entrance. Not wanting to get shot or threatened by a person with a certain passion for the 2nd amendment, we chose the road more traveled (by cars). We made it to Port Jervis after a stop in Steamtown... or The Electric City... or just plain ol' Scranton to go to a closed brewery and then an open one where I got to find out how much I don't like DJ'ed Music Bingo at full volume.
Friday was the SSWC "group ride" but with "surprises." I knew what we were in for, being that this is my fifth rodeo... potentially the worst best group ride ever. More than a hundred single speeders of different strengths, abilities, and blood alcohol concentrations over technical trails with varying concepts and ideas about momentum, gearing, common courtesy, and technique. Did I expect to push up a steep hill, poach a railroad trestle high above a river, drink a beer, watch someone(s) fall off the trail, bear witness to the strangest mechanicals, and spend more time standing around than actually riding? Yeth, but I expected anything and everything... so there's that.
Friday night was time for the first round of deciders for who would host for '27, which was dragging flaming kegs up and down the street behind clunkers (and between the parked cars of the innocents).
Saturday. The "race." Three hundred something of us rode outta town, and thinking there might be an advantage to being near the front, we stayed there.
It was not.
That would actually be the least amount of chaos we'd see that day.
Once Dejay said "go," I walked down the hill, patiently installed my wheel, waited for Watts, started out... and charged around anyone I could get by on the gravel road... thinking Watts was locked in on my six. Into the first trail and I'm on a train of folks stuck behind someone who's skillset must have been putting their wheel back on and choosing a better place to start than a whole mess of people. It takes a fair amount of effort for our train to uncouple and overtake this engine, but sooner or later, the trail opened up in front of me. I'm sure Watts has gotta be following closely.
The course was marked well... I think? We got the route info after midnight with too little time for consideration in the morning, so I didn't know that the three aid stations were just two, one you saw twice and one that doubled as the finish... so there were a fair amount of arrows here and there that caused some confusion... just about everywhere. I came into the first aid from the wrong direction by just following arrows but somehow ahead of Josh and Buck (who also came from the same wrong direction) even though they were ahead of me since the start. I'd passed Fuzzy and then found him coming from who knows where to join me on lower Dejay Downs to see people flying down a road instead of getting their dicks beat off on the janky rock and rootfest I'd just suffered through. Realistically, it was impossible to know who was doing what, so no idea if Watts was ahead of me, behind me, or perhaps semi-adjacent?
IMHOMO, the trails were ideal for an SSWC course. Challenging yet fun and varied enough to keep you from getting bored and a 20% hike-a-bike off trail for funsies.
I have no idea what happened what with all the different interpretations of course markings, but I know I was happy to be done. Kinda. No Watts at the finish tho, a beer, some asking around...
I found out from several riders/witnesses that Watts decided to camp out at the final aid station and enjoy himself, so a band of merry men came with me to retrieve (join?) him and get one more rip down Painted Apron.
We ended up being almost the last people to get off the course, Watts swapping his 32" bike for Cjell Mone's coaster brake bike and Josh loaned his 32" to nine foot tall Damo in exchange for a size XXXXXXXXL single speed with swapped brake levers for a bit, which provided some entertainment on the way down.
Dinner...
Then more BB gun activities and N/A beer chugging as '27 deciders continued, a raffle (I won a thing), and then back to the Fox 'n Hare to close the night.
The next day was a solid rainout and mega-sad regrets about leaving my rain jacket at home. A small soddened and mildly smelly group of us rode to a mystery location down by the river tucked under an overpass for the champion showdown as well as the decider finals.
The rest of the day was spent with way too much time at the Fox 'n Hare followed by closing moments at Never Lost Adventures.
The long drive back was broken up with a short ride with Buck in his hometown of Harrisburg before another brewery, hotel, and the sad drive back to reality.
Lorb willing and the creeks don't rise, I will 100% be there in NM next year. I'm not aged out of a good time just yet.
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