By Fred Smith
Man, I tell ya what, when I signed up for the Fool’s Gold 50 mile mtb race, I envisioned having a tough but good training day out in the mountains of north Georgia for about 4+ hours. I had never done a 50 miler, but I knew I’d put enough training in this year that it wouldn’t be a problem. The timing was good, it was after all of the qualifier races and right in the sweet spot for hard training leading up to the Nationals and World Championships. It was close enough that I could get there and back in 24 hours and not leave my wife with Penelope, our 7 week old, for too long on her own.
I had a couple of guys from K-town with me and met up with Craig Evans, Casey Fannin and Mark Rudder from the Xterra ranks. A good crew to race with. Well, despite the clear weather report, a powerful line of thunderstorms moved through the Camp Wahsega start/finish, unleashing seemingly nonstop lightning strikes followed by booming thunder and heavy rains. The local news issued flood warnings on race morning, the result of stationary storms that were dumping as much as one inch of rain per hour on some areas. Although the electrical storms moved through well before the start of the race, steady rains remained to take their place. Thus began the 2010 Fool’s Gold saga. More of the full report from cycling news below….
Now on to my report….The dirt around north Georgia is a red clay, which is a greasy nasty kinda dirt if you aren’t familiar with it. The first singletrack section is a fun but technical downhill that had turned into a river. Slippin and slidin all the way down. It was actually pretty dang fun to be honest. The next 15 miles or so were a mix of dirt road and singletrack and now that everything was completely drenched, the rain really didn’t matter. it actually helped to clean the bike. It was a tough slog though. The flat sections that were supposed to be fast had turned to quicksand and stream crossings that should have been a splash turned into water bottle deep. What we all didn’t realize is that red clay and minerals turns into something like sandpaper when it gets watered down and while we were all rocking and rolling through the mud, our brake pads were rapidly being ground down to nothing.
At the 30 mile mark there was a SAG stop and it looked like a block party had started. Half the 100 mile group that started first had already lost their brakes and a bunch of guys were organizing to take the road back to the start. My front brake was pretty much toast, but the rear felt good so I filled a bottle and kept moving. Some of the more technical climbs had basically become unrideable with all the water, but other than that and the previously mentioned quicksand, you could still ride hard. Descents were a bit sketchy because you had muddy water flying in your face the whole time, but it was still a blast. So I drop into one of these singletrack descents at about mile 38 and grab the rear brake. Rather than a quick deceleration, I got more speed and realized my brakes were officially 100% gone.
Now if you are from the South you may remember old Dukes of Hazard shows where they launch the General Lee off some hill or pile of dirt and the scene freezes and the narrator says something witty like, “I reckon the Duke boys gonna have trouble trying ta git outta this one”…well I had my own little scene freezer. I mean, this was a pretty flippin steep hill so I really had one option, a high speed bailout. I pulled one of these back in college riding a long board down a steep road in Boulder. I basically scoped out a bush and threw myself into it. Worked then so I called on those skills once more. I launched the bike in front of me, twisted both my feet and leaned to the right…two or three fast footsteps and then a barrel roll into the woods…worked like a charm. Popped up with no cuts and bike still in tact. That’s where the fun really began.
12 miles to go. No brakes. The rain had stopped and now the mud was as think as molasses. Climbing was a breath of fresh air, descents meant I had to get creative. Some were walks, some were peg leg rollers. Some were done alternating dragging one foot after the other. Sometimes I’d stay clipped in and grab small trees, branches, bushes…basically anything sticking out into the trail that didn’t look like it would win the tug of war with my arm. Those next 12 miles were quite possibly the longest 2 1/2 hours I’ve spent on a bike.
Finally rolled into camp at just over 6 hours and rode right up to the keg of ice cold beer so kindly offered by the race director. The Specialized Epic handled the crap conditions like a champ. Seeing as everyone’s brakes were gone, I can’t knock them for that, the bike never gave me any other problems the entire ride. Little did I know that not only my breaks, but all the bearings, hubs and entire drivetrain were also being ground to bits….but that’s a story for another time…After a dunk in the river to get the layer of crud off, we grubbed some mexican food and hit the road. Really glad I finished the race, but not exactly an experience I’d care to repeat.