2 - Chasing Lima

Day Two: June 21
A camera flash just after 5 am confirmed that somebody was up and it was time to move. The stopwatch was still ticking. Most of us were on the road just before 6 am and feasting at a remote café by 7:30 am. The early start aside, the race felt like a holiday cycle tour. All the riders were enjoying each other’s company, the fine weather and excellent scenery.


Just the beginning of about a hundred tree falls - luckily most were hoppable.

Everyone carried a camera and looked forward to the possibility of a bear or moose sighting (as long as it wasn’t too close). We were heading for Mt Richmond, an area where delinquent bears causing trouble in towns are taken and released. I saw a small Grizzly in the morning when riding alone, after which I made more of an effort to stick with another rider. This turned out to be a Brit, Carl Hutching, an Iditasport champion. He’s about twice as muscular as I am; a good man to be standing next to should a hungry Grizzly attack.


I caught up to Carl on the climb after stopping at Lake Holland Lodge, where I was lucky enough to score a packed lunch just before they closed for a wedding. It was so hot I walked back and forth under the lodge's sprinklers.


Carl stops for a bottle recharge. Some environmental surveyors shared some water with us a bit further on. It was always a pleasure to stop and chat with somebody in the middle of nowhere.


What's my pack doing unzipped?! Most of the riding was smooth gravel roads - perfect for a rigid MTB.


Typical scenery in the Richmond Peak area.


Well into the climb - almost at the snowline.


Now we're talking. Gerald films Carl as we start a long trudge.




As we got higher the snow was banked up on a steep angle and eventually hid the track completely.

Despite surprising heat, countless tree-falls and difficulty following a track buried by snow, we made good progress. Nobody got eaten. By 11:30 pm I’d covered 241 km, but ended up in a one-horse town that was all closed up for the night. Half a Powerbar and a cookie sufficed for dinner. Geoff Roes and I tried to sleep on the local museum lawn, only to be woken by the sprinkler system and, later, a heavy downpour.

Day Three: June 22
The racing field was starting to pan out. John Nobile was off the front, riding through much of each night. Geoff chased until he could chase no more and then pulled out, exhausted. Another six of us battled on at a similar pace, sharing each other’s company, on and off, for the next few days.


Fred, Geoff and I head off for Lincoln, very happy that heavy rain had cleared while we ate a hearty cooked breakfast.




Some very nice fireroad after Lincoln - it wasn't all like that!


Feeling pretty chuffed to be clearing the Continental Divide for the first time.


The meadows above the tree-line contained acres of wild flowers


These mine relics featured in Kent Petersen's GDR blog. As I'm a similar age, I was keeping an eye on his early splits to check I was on target to make the race cut-offs.

By noon of the third day I was starting to feel the effects of the day before. My quads were spent and saddle sores had begun to develop. To compound things, I was riding totally solo and the navigation was taxing the old grey matter. The air was thin in the mountains and hot in the valleys. By 7:30 pm my day was done, with only 162 km covered. If things continued to get worse, the chances of making the cut-offs would be slim.

Fortunately, Carl caught up with me, looking as bad as I felt. We split the cost of a hotel room and shared a decent meal; recharged our batteries. By checking the race blog in the morning we could see that only three riders were ahead of us. They’d pushed on into the dark and explored various wrong-turns during a midnight thunderstorm. This race was like a roller coaster, with highs and lows aplenty, all transitory in nature.

Day Four: June 23
We entered some extremely technical terrain on the fourth day, which for me pushed all the right buttons. The organiser commented that I looked as if I was in a cross-country race, which was precisely where my mind was at. After a break, during the most intense afternoon heat, all the physical difficulties of the race were pushed to the back of my mind, hidden behind one single goal – reach Wise River Lodge before the restaurant closes at 9 pm. Thank God I made it. Nobody wants to see a grown man cry.


The Lava trail was the first serious test of technical riding skills.


On muddy section you could see who was in front of you, and the tree falls ensured a vehicle-free trail.


The rail trail between Basin and Butte. I caught up to Jenn and Carl in Butte and was starting to feel stronger.


The interstate into Butte had a generous shoulder - the aero bars were very handy here.

Day Five: June 24
We left the forest and began some incredibly tedious riding through arid ranch land. Luckily Carl caught up with me again and for much of the afternoon he shared tales of racing in Alaska. There were no shops until the end of the day’s 220 km, but I’d posted some treasures to a remote post office: a Powerbar, some chocolate peanuts and a can of peaches. We got water from small creeks – which had been contaminated by cattle – and treated it with iodine tablets. By evening we were wasted, again, but had now covered the 600 miles to Lima within the six-day cut-off. Incredible single-speeder, Jenn Hopkins, caught up a couple of hours later. We discussed saddle sore remedies and race goals over dinner. Carl apologised that he was going to have to race harder from now on. He was gone by 3 am the next morning and we never saw him again.


Catching up to Jenn after a sleep-in in Wise River. Right about now she put the hammer down and I struggled to stay with her.


If you insist.


What is this thing?


This sign was the only shade all afternoon. The red packet contains chocolate peanuts I'd posted to Polaris - a tiny town with a post office, but no shops. In fact, I saw no shops from Butte to Lima - almost 300 km.

1 - Go

[This is the start of my diary of the Great Divide Race. I'll download the images now (with broadband at work) and do the words during the holidays (next week). This will be as full account as I can manage. It will be boring in places - that's the nature of the GDR. Most of the pics were taken on the fly - sometimes it shows. There are a handfull taken by other people (thanks to David Blaine, Carl Hutchings, Mary Collier, Pete Basinger, Bill Drake, and Carl Patton). Some of my best shots are shown in earlier posts, but I will not repeat them here.]

20 April: I've been slack (and busy) so obviously haven't made any progress. Here's my 'Spoke' article to get things moving along:

MISSION: ACCOMPLISHED
SIMON KENNETT GETS THE GREAT DIVIDE RACE OUT OF HIS SYSTEM

High Noon, June 20: Roosville, Canada/USA Border
There was an enormous sense of excitement as 18 Great Divide Race hopefuls lined up on the lawn at the border station. Months (or even years) of preparation lay behind us; 4,000 kilometres along the American Continental Divide lay ahead. Snow-covered passes, sleep deprivation, deserts and dodgy food were just a few of the known challenges. The cut-offs that required riders to maintain a 24-day finishing pace was another. But the unknown challenges – there lay the real adventure.



Two shots from the pre-race briefing at a Eureka cafe. I arrived a little late after posting all my excess gear home. Between huge mouthfuls of pancakes and scrambled eggs, everyone is paying careful attention to the details of race rules and call-in requirements.


David sets out from his hotel with his single speed steed. Thanks to his blog (The Great Divide Project) and having met him in Spokane a week earlier, he seemed like an old friend already.


Todd getting set to do the business on his singlespeed cyclo-cross rig. His bags are home-made from sail material. He has an aerodynamic time-trial helmet.


This is Keith's touring bike set-up. The load on the rear rack flipped upside down during a rough descent (and his rear tyre ripped thru the sleeping pad and his jacket before he could stop).


Reiner, the German flying ace, once help the world record for the amount of climbing done in 24 hrs. He said he was there to check out the course before coming back next year to set a new record!


John, who had pulled out during his previous two attempts, found that his third time was indeed lucky.


Fred was one of the most experienced endurance racers in the field.


Carl was picked at the guy most likely to finish if things turned nasty.


Jenn was also riding a 69'er with a rigid carbon fork. 'What were the chances of that?' I thought. She also chose to ride sans derailleurs.


Me - so happy to be on the start line.


The startline - with Canada in the background.

Rushed introductions and photographs filled the last moments where nervousness might otherwise have felt overwhelming. Then there was a quiet ‘go’ from the organiser and a few cheers from the half-dozen spectators.



Fred and Noah spring to the front. Noah's grandparents were 10 miles down the road waiting to wave him through town, so he made sure he was in the lead with a big smile.


Carved bears with fishing rods - I was a long way from home.

We were off. Recent illness dictated a sensible game plan, but within 30 seconds I was in the lead with experienced Canadian Fred Wilkinson and youngster Noah Dimmit (on his second attempt). I just couldn’t help myself. After three hours they’d dropped off the pace and were out of sight, and I was left wondering if lead position was really the best place for an adventure-race novice in bear country.

Fortunately, 15 minutes later three riders came past as we approached the business end of the first mountain pass. There was a single-speed, a geared 29’er and a touring bike, and we all stopped at the top of the climb to consume precious calories and congratulate ourselves. The sky was blue and the road clear of snow. We’d covered the distance of a normal cross-country race, with loaded bikes, and we felt great. How long could that last?


Andrew and Geoff cruise up to the first big pass.

During the descent from the pass Geoff Roes and I broke away. He looked extremely comfortable, having ridden to the start-line from Utah. After 20 minutes at his pace I began to hit the wall. It was rather depressing; we were just four hours into a 20-day race. I stopped to refuel and collect stream water, and several riders passed. Some appeared to be time-trialing while others looked like they were on a Sunday group ride. I latched onto a bunch and chatted while my batteries recharged. The conversations are almost forgotten already, but the sense that they were really good people remains – the sort of people you’d be happy to get lost with.


Red Meadow Lake, near the top of the second big climb.

Near the top of the second big pass of the day, single-speeder David Blaine came into view. We marched through the snow along the top together for 45 minutes and then began the big run into Whitefish at the 100-mile mark. Whitefish was a rare opportunity to re-stock with quality food. I filled a shopping basket with mashed potato and peas, fried chicken, chocolate milk, fruit and sports drink, and then sat outside on the pavement with fellow racer Keith Flury to dine. We were covered in mud and looked like bums.

Keith follows me out of Whitefish in perfect riding conditions.

We set off half an hour later, overfull but happy, and rode until 11 pm when we reached Tom’s house in the country. Tom is a cyclist who welcomes all Great Divide riders to camp on his lawn, and his homemade rhubarb slice helped create a party atmosphere that night. We’d covered 196 km since noon, and by midnight there were eleven racers camped in one spot. Only the eventual winner, John Nobile, went any further. Four of the other five starters camped much further back and were moving too slowly to make the race cut-offs.


Day Eight: June 27
By now I was averaging 200 km per day without burying myself for more than an hour or so. Jenn was catching up whenever I stopped and we were looking forward to sharing the long lonely ride through the intimidating ‘Great Divide Basin’ desert.

Day Nine: June 28
I got up at 4 am to avoid the impending heat. There was a big day ahead but my stomach was in knots. I couldn’t eat. After a couple of hours’ riding we stopped for breakfast with David Blaine. He and Jenn had envious appetites. Without being able to take on fuel, I had to wave them farewell and settle in for 10 hours’ sick leave. Coming face-to-face with the possibility of failure was certainly the low point of the race. I wondered if this whole venture was a huge mistake.

Fortunately my digestive system gradually began functioning again and by early evening the wheels were turning, slowly, towards the desert. At 11 pm I crawled into my sleeping bag on the side of the road, coyotes howling in the distance, with a sense that all was well with the world.

For the next five days I rode solo 99% of the time, with an MP3 player blasting out Ravel or Nina Simone or Flight of the Concords. Solitude made focusing on the race easier, but my goal was to catch up with David or Jenn, more to share the experience than to pick up a placing. After Wyoming’s sparse landscape, the Colorado mountains and wildlife seemed even more impressive than Montana’s.

By the third of July I was starting to struggle; the heat and long days were catching up. That afternoon, while enjoying the descent off Carnero Pass at around 50 km/hr, a large mountain lion appeared around a corner. I skidded to a halt about 20 metres away from it and considered my chances of surviving an attack. They seemed slim. The mountain lion looked back at me and decided to yield the road. I was amped with enough adrenalin to last another thousand miles.

Near the end of the day Jenn appeared in the distance. I was so happy to have some company. Unfortunately she was starting to suffer from Giardia and was falling off the pace. The next day we rode together a little and shared a Fourth of July barbeque in a remote settlement. This was also the day I crossed into New Mexico, the last State of the race and the State where my wife and baby were holidaying. This was the point at which I’d decided to give it everything until the finish.

Day 17: July 6
The days were getting noticeably shorter further south. I woke at 5 am, having camped near the top of the longest climb of the race, and expected to be out of the mountains by mid-morning. My legs had different ideas. It took about three hours to warm-up, but I didn’t dare rest anywhere for long. Just a few days earlier a man had been eaten by a cougar nearby, and there were fresh tracks on the sandy road.

By midday I’d reached the safety of Cuba (the town) and was faced with the prospect of a hundred asphalt miles through desert. This was reservation land where services were few and far between. It was tempting to stay for a siesta, but instead I filled my back pockets, sleeves and shorts with ice and went for it. Head down, on the aerobars, the miles flew by. Just after dark a storm lashed down and it was out with the jacket, over-trousers and bike-lights. As the lights of the next town came into view, as if cued by my subconscious, I was overcome with weakness.

The first budget motel appeared just in the nick of time. It lay on the neglected Route 66, tucked in between a busy rail yard and modern freeway. Tea consisted of some biscuits and soda from the office shop, but I was too tired to really care. With another 280 km knocked off, the finish seemed almost within site.

Day 18: July 7
This day was almost a reflection of the one before: a long stretch of isolated tarseal followed by even more remote gravel road. The map showed just one shop, 165 km away from the town I left in the morning. As it turned out, that shop had closed months ago. I was in huge, open, sparsely populated country. A desperate inspection of the map indicated that the next shop down the line was another 160 km further south.

Over the next 20 hours I saw just four vehicles and flagged two of them down. Both drivers were happy to hand out emergency food supplies from their glove box and to listen to a short story of a bizarre bike race across America. The early afternoon brought a wonderful sight – the Gila Ranger Station had a drinks machine. Chink, chink, chink… click, whir, ka-thud! What a beautiful sound.

Six cans of soda and half an hour later there was a very different, somewhat sinister sound. A lightening storm rolled in just as I was about to climb up onto the Continental Divide. Torrential rain was accompanied by booming thunder, and massive cracks of electricity filled the sky. I hid under a bridge for a while as the creek rose, deciding which was the better risk – death by drowning, lightening strike or starvation. The possibility of electrocution won out (nice and instant) and I set out riding like a madman.

Along the top of the Divide, as the vegetation became more and more stunted, I hunched over lower and lower, pretending to be four foot tall. The lightening closed in until it could be seen striking the ground a couple of hundred metres away.

After a full-on time-trial out of the mountains, I arrived at the tiny town of Mimbres – 325 km from the last store – to find the only shop had closed 45 minutes beforehand! I scored a Clif Bar from a local woman and blitzed the next 30 km into Silver City. As the city limits came into view the incessant rain finally caused my lights and bike computer to fail. I staggered into the first fast-food joint in town looking like I’d escaped from an insane asylum via the sewer system. Bent, but not broken.

Day 20: July 9
The last, horrible day of the race dawned fine and calm. It promised to be a furnace in the desert until a thin layer of cloud slid mercifully overhead mid-morning. There were no large climbs, no rough tracks, no storms. Just 201 km of rolling dirt and straight sealed roads, so long and flat that they disappeared beyond the horizon.

I’d had enough. All I wanted was to reach the Mexican border and go home to my family. Fortunately, my American in-laws were waiting to pick me up at the finish, Antelope Wells, a border station with no well and no antelope. The last 70 km of road had way-markers every mile. I put my head down and watched the white line fly by, desperately hoping each time I looked up that two mile-markers would have passed rather than one.

The final stretch took an hour longer than expected, but eventually a building appeared in the distance between the Joshua trees and cacti. It slowly took a clearer form. Then, quite suddenly, Bill and Janet appeared just 20 metres away. I was done. My smile stretched from ear to ear and I was filled with relief and gratitude. There was no finish banner, nor any other humans.

The satisfaction of having completed the Great Divide Race took weeks to fully sink in. Of the eighteen starters, just two Americans, two Brits, and one Kiwi finished the entire course. John Noble set a course record of 15 days and 2 hours. Even Giardia couldn’t stop Jenn – she finished in 22 and a half days. I spent 19 days and 5 hours on the Divide. Much of that time is a blur, but there are many vivid memories of camaraderie and natural beauty that I’ll treasure for the rest of my life.

MSF Fundraiser Wrapped Up

Just deposited NZ$11,030 into MSF Australia's account. This was the money raised through donations (mostly at slideshows), pledges for each GDR-km ridden, and the sale of sponsored gear.

A huge thanks to everyone who contributed - genorosity like that is heart-warming, and it made the motivational side of the GDR a piece of cake.

Here's a message from MSF explaining where the money goes now:

"Médecins Sans Frontières teams are currently in over 60 countries, working with more than 22,000 locally recruited national staff in conditions that are always challenging, sometimes dangerous. Wherever our teams are working their goal is the same: to provide essential medical humanitarian aid to those who need it most, regardless of race, religion, gender or political affiliation.

As an independent organisation that relies solely on our donors for funding, your support is absolutely crucial to Médecins Sans Frontières’ ability to provide medical assistance to millions of people throughout the world. Whether it’s assisting casualties of war, those in danger from deadly epidemics or in great need after a flood or earthquake, victims of sexual violence or someone excluded from health care; the funding we receive from our donors helps us stay flexible, responsive and ready to act swiftly in times of crisis.

In 2007, Médecins Sans Frontières carried out 8,447,106 outpatient consultations and dealt with 340,689 inpatient admissions in 62 countries worldwide. Our interventions spanned four continents with the majority of projects taking place in Africa, and smaller numbers in Asia, the Americas, Europe and the Middle East. Armed conflict was the most common cause of humanitarian and medical crises followed by epidemic or endemic disease outbreaks.

Some of our work right now includes:
Providing emergency medical assistance to people caught up in the conflict in the Democratic Republic of Congo.
Providing obstetric care for women in Haiti
Treating cholera in Zimbabwe
Providing medical and non medical assistance to refugees in Darfur, Sudan
Treating malnutrition in Uganda

For all the latest news on our work, please visit www.msf.org.au.

Kind regards,

Gina Birkett
Médecins sans Frontières Australia"

Almost back in top gear

Work has been as frustrating as all hell lately (with the 7^th edition of Classic NZ MTB Rides taking a month longer that expected to arrive from overseas) but we've had some good times on various bikes to distract us from all that.

First up, in mid-October was the MTB orienteering event at Maungakotukutuku. Memories of last years win were well smashed as several riders trounced me both physically and mentally, but I still had some fun. There's some sweet singletrack through some excellent forest out there. My buddy John won – his first solo win in an area he wasn't familiar with – he’s the man. This was Sarah's first event since becoming pregnant two years ago. Very nice to see.

The following weekend we went up to Rangataua for some R and R. We all rode up the mountain road (a 1000m climb) in atrocious weather – by the time we got back down they had closed the top part of the road. Near the top it is very steep and I'm pretty sure a snail zipped past me – I felt so unfit. A couple of days later John and I rode down to Pipiriki and back – 80 km return. The weather was a bit better, but there was still some hail mixed in with the rain. Nice quiet roads; some gravel (always exciting on a road bike); and more sweet forest.

The dodgy weather theme continued the following weekend as we rode up to the top of Makara Peak to celebrate the MTB park’s 10^th anniversary. This was one of those days where the wind was toppling trees and blowing cars over on the Wainui Hill Road. Needless to say we were blown off the track at the top of the Peak and it was all a bit of a hoot.

The weekend after that we had a team entered in the Wild Wellington 12 hr Relay. This time the weather was perfect! Jonty did some fast laps for us on his cyclocross bike, Kaitlyn gave John a boost on the tag-along bike, Sarah did a few brisk laps, and Jonathan and I took the tandem for a spin. It was very social; Miro loved all the action; the crepes were delicious, and we ended up third mixed team.

Mid-November I snuck out the back door for a 2-hour grind on some tight local singletrack, some of which I'd never done uphill, and one new track I'd never done at all. I LOVE riding new singletrack.

The weekend before last was the end of the MTB-O season with a fixed-order event on Mt Vic (and more singletrack I'd never done before. Choice!). My second place was a pleasant surprise (even if it was partly thanks to a poor turn-out). John came in third and wrapped up the series.

The last weekend in November Jonathan, Alex and I took the triple for a spin round Taupo – a hilly 160 km – in 4:31. The guys did a good job of pushing me through the first hour; at 40 km I stopped for a leak and then finally got into a decent rhythm. We actually hammered the main climbs pretty well (given the bike would make a fine ships anchor). It was fun hearing all the kids yell out “Hey! What's that?!” “Go the threesome!”, etc, etc. Only a couple of blokes called out “The guy on the back isn't pedalling (ha ha)” or “You look so gay!”. Morons are pretty easy to ignore when the weather is stunning and you have clear views of the mountain or the lake to enjoy.

By the time I got back from Taupo, Miro was walking heaps more (from one room to the next). And there was me thinking she’d go straight from crawling to bike riding.

Yesterday was ‘Tour de Peak’ day. The aim of this event is to ride all 16 tracks in Makara Peak as fast as you can, in the order of your choice. A good old brain-teaser, as well as an honest grunt. This year I teamed up with Sarah in the Duo category and we split the tracks 50/50 (with me veering towards the most technical stuff, which I seem to have lost my mojo on – apart from being rusty, a big drop causes me to think of Miro; I hesitate and decide to walk. A tad frustrating at the time, but not so much as a broken collar bone). Anyway, the sun shone, long ribbons of single track were ridden (without injury), Miro loved the friendly atmosphere, and everybody went home with a prize.

Today, at long last, we shuffled the 7^th edition of ‘Classic New Zealand MTB Rides’ into our office (8,000 copies = 4 tonnes = some serious cross-training). The string of printing, freighting, and customs clearance delays has been agonising, but the book does look damn fine. Hopefully the punters agree.

BTW, the last post suggests that my fingers had returned to normal 2 months after the GDR finished. As it turns out, not quite. A band of thin, fragile finger nail is still growing out. This band now extends back to a small ridge a third of the way from the tip of each nail (beyond which normal nail growth is occurring). Not sure what caused that – poor circulation, lack of nutrients, or reduced growth hormone during the race? Kinda suggests that 100% recovery from the GDR is more like six months than three.

Time Marches On

Well...it's three months since the Great Divide Race finished and I still haven't done a proper trip write-up. Sorry about that - it's still on the list of things to do. Spoke magazine asked me to do a 1200 word article about the race. I worked hard to keep the word count down and still ended up with 2400. That'll be in their next issue. Anyway, it occurred to me while writing it that it would be pretty easy to ramble on for 5000 words - just need to find the time. Realistically it won't happen until the Christmas holidays.

The last post mentioned an auction and slide show. They went really well. All the GDR sponsored gear is now sold and 99% of the pledges are in. At the moment the funds raised for Doctors Without Borders is just over NZ$10,000. I need to get this wrapped up and sent off asap, before our currancy plunges any further. Why is it that a US-initiated financial crisis has caused the greenback to strengthen?

If you missed the last slide show, there are a few more coming up. One for the Hutt Valley MTB Club in mid-November, one at the Cyclemania festival in Taupo at the end of November, and another for Cycle Aware Wellington on the 2nd December.

It's been impressive to see many of the GDR racers compete in other events recently. I've had no interest. It took just over two months for my fingers to return to normal (difficulty tying shoe-laces being the main problem). And, a combination of exhaustion, jet-lag, minor illness, wintery weather, baby-induced sleep deprivation and over-working conspired with a bit of melancholy. It is a bummer not having anything as big as the GDR on the horizon. Might just have to run something similar here in NZ.

Fortunately my heavy commuter bike kept the legs from wasting away completely and last weekend my brain finally said "It's time". I joined John for my first recreational ride since getting back to New Zealand in July. We found some nice steep singletrack and enjoyed a good hit of endorphins. Aaaahhh....

And now that spring has arrived, there are a couple of races in the off'ing too. As part of our 7th edition promotional tour the Kennett Bros will have a family team at the Wild Wellington 12 hour teams race and we'll drag the Triple out for the Taupo Cycle Challenge century. Bound to do something sifty at the Makara Peak Rally, too. Maybe we'll see you there.

Cheers
Simon

Slide show, auction and gear review

Great Divide Race Slide Show - 2pm, Sunday the 17th August, Rongotai College, Wellington (Map). Free entry. All welcome.

The slide show will be immediately followed by an auction of my sponsored gear from the race (with proceeds going to Doctors Without Borders). The gear to be auctioned includes:

• Giant XTC Carbon 69'er, with Stans wheelset and Sram groupset. Weighs about 10kg. Very good condition - only used in one race.
• Cane Creek suspension seatpost. Near new condition.
• XTR shifter (near new)
• XTR crankset (brand new)
• XTR derailleurs (near new)
• Easton Aerobars (very good condition)
• Misc Ground effect clothing (jacket, Montezumas long shorts, Median strip top, Half Pipes leggings)
• NoTubes sealant (unused!)
• Stans Crow 29" tyre (good condition)

If you'd like to place a bid from out of town, email me at simon [at] kennett [dot] co [dot] nz to arrange contact details during the auction.

How did my gear work over the big race?

Here's the loaded bike:

and the gear (unpacked) before the race:

My sponsors are shown in the links to the right - check those out for more info on the bike and clothes. Just remember that this is what worked for me in the 2008 GDR. You are different from me, and 2009 will be different from 2008.

Here's a list with some comments:

Bike: Giant XTC Carbon frame; Stans wheelset (ZTR355 rims, 29” front, with American Classic hub, 26” rear with Hope Pro2 hub, Crow tyres and NoTubes sealant), Sram gears; Truvativ Noir crankset; Ritchey WCS MTB forks, seat, seatpost & handlebar stem; Easton carbon handlebars & aerobars; Ergon grips & barends; Avid ultimate disc brakes; Shimano XTR pedals; Rear rack (an old mongreled front rack); beefy bottle cage; Cateye computer

• The bike worked great. It was designed to mitigate my weakness (road riding) and take advantage of my experience riding fully rigid bikes. I longed for suspension (usually rear) on about 6 occasions. It was very aerodynamic, very light, and rolled very well. The aerobars gave an extra couple of comfortable hand positions.
• The only mid-race maintanence was the replacement of the rear tyre at 960 miles and 1550 miles, chain oiling most days, and a good clean at 1550 miles (Absolute Bikes).
• The only problems were the loss of some small chainring bolts at about 1800 miles and the malfunction of the bike compter after the big storm a day from the finish. No punctures. No shifting problems. No component breakages. Rear tyre wear-and-tear was expected and planned for by posting replacements to Pinedale and Salida. I sent replacement chainrings and brake pads to Salida, but did not need them.

Bags: Frame bag sewn up from cordura off-cuts by Shona; Pacific 5ltr dry bags; Cactus prototype small backpack (15 years old)

• These all worked fine. Wore a small hole in one of the dry bags by the finish. A little extra capacity would have been handy and more compartments in the backpack.

Clothes: Ground Effect Shorts, legwarmers, tops, proto-type jacket, long-fingered gloves, short-fingered gel gloves, nylon overmitts, generic poloprop balaclava, couple of old thermal tops, light woolen top, polyprop longjohns, running shorts, LG shoe covers, socks, arm-warmers,

• I've been testing most of this stuff for years, so no real surprises - it worked very well. The Half Pipe leg warmers were surprisingly useful (wore them every day). The Ground Effect prototype jacket was perfect - it was designed to fit my stick-like figure with minimal flapping in windy conditions. The long sleeved Rock Lobster top kept the intense sun at bay. Woolen socks prevented foot fungii problems.
• The overmitts never got used. The shoe covers were only used once, so got posted home from Salida and were needed the very next day.
• One of the advantages of being old and crusty is that I had a drawer full off old, worn-out shorts, socks and gloves. I started with some of this old gear and threw it out over the first few days. This saved me the effort of doing washing until day five.

ACA Maps, cue-cards, facility summary

• The maps had me scratching my head once or twice, but I only got lost very briefly three times (in towns each time). Thanks to cousin Duncan for scanning & printing the cues.

Camera: Olympus 850 SW

• The 'S' stands for shock-proof. The 'W' for waterproof. Shona sewed a camera breast pocket into my tops, and bingo! - a sweet camera at the ready regardless of the conditions. Most of my pcs were taken without stopping. Thanks John.

MP3 player: $29 Dick Smith Electronics

• Cheap-as, and runs on a AAA battery. It had just over 3 hours of music on it, which all got listened to at least once a day from day five on. It also had a voice recorder which was handy to store some of my thoughts along the way.

Shoes: Louis Gaureau

• A nice pair of LG shoes, but not the top of the line model (didn't want the risk of a ratchet breaking). Reasonably comfy and very solid and dependable (and a good price too).

Helmet: Giro Pneumo

• An old favourite, this time with the visor. Worked fine.

Lights: Dinotte x2, Cateye rear, ankle reflector

• Great lights (thanks Gav) except during the big storm when water got into the battery pack (I'd been warned of this, but obviously didn't seal the pack well enough). Otherwise, they were very, very good.

Sleeping bag: MacPac Epic (down, 540gm)

Bivvy bag: Old Fairydown (very light, semi-breathable)

Pad: Closed cell foam cut to ¾ length & width (10mm thick)

Insect net

• This was a very light-weight, minimalist camping set-up. Not comfortable, but good enough to get a few hours sleep in. I was lucky it didn't rain much and the temp never reached freezing. I camped 10 nights out of 19.

Sunglasses

• Stood on my nice Adidas shades at the end of day one. Replaced them with a $15 pair in Lincoln. Lost my spectacles on about day three (I can live without them).

Liquid carriers: 3ltr bladder, 2ltr bladder, 800ml water bottle, misc sports drinks bottles

Iodine tabs

• This carrying capacity was fine (when it was used). Not sure if excess iodine contributed to digestive distress or not. We were all lucky that there was more surface water around than normal, and it was not super hot in New Mexico.

First-aid kit: All the normal stuff, plus some anti-biotics and stomach bug stuff (Thanks Dr Ruthie). Bought some ant-acid tabs along the way.

Hygiene kit: Sun-block, anti-bacterial wipes, toothbrush, chammy cream (Thanks Marilyn) or talc powder, etc

• A lot of the first aid stuff remained unused, but it's lght and compact and had the potential to save my bacon, so I didn't regret carrying it.

Tool kit: Allen keys, chain tool, tyre lever, tubes x2, pump, patch kit, oil

• Similar comment as above

Misc: Compass/thermometer, sun umbrella, cash, calling card, credit card, ID, ear plugs, shower caps, pen, travel lock, spoon, etc

• The compass came in handy during a pre-dawn start in the Great Divide Basin. The sun umbrella was a waste of space (but it might have been handy, really). I used one shower cap during a short downpour. Everything else was useful for obvious reasons.

Thoughts on bikes and fairings:

• You can spend a LOT of time deciding what type of bike to use. Eventually this becomes wasted time. If all you want to do is finish with a respectable time, any decent mountain bike will do the job. That said, it needs to be reliable and comfortable. If you can make it light as well, that's a bonus.
• WRT full-suspension vs hardtails vs fully rigid vs 29er vs single-speed - it comes down to using whatever tickles your fancy. The main thing is to have FAT tyres that you can run at cushy pressures. The next most important thing is a saddle that doesn't make you bleed by day five.
• In this type of race 29'er wheels are a slight advantage, unless you are running some really good suspension, in which case it's too close to call (imho).
• Having raced with a Zipper fairing a few times (and a rear fairing twice) I thought long and hard about using a front fairing. The time to make and test a MTB fairing was not available to me, so it came down to buying a Zipper again, or a motorcycle fairing. I decided the weight penalty and increased risk of over-heating counted too heavily against the small gains of improved aerodynamics (when racing at very low average speeds). I guess John Nobile proved me wrong (although I suspect he could have cleaned up even without his fairings). This race is loaded with 'individuals' - many of whom have bicycles that are extensions of their personalities. Proving the capability of the bike (as well as the body) to finish the GDR is part of the challenge that motivates many riders .

Questions? Fire away (but expect a slow response - work is crazy at the mo')

Simon interviewed on Nights with Bryan Crump

Simon was interviewed on Nights with Bryan Crump, Radio New Zealand National, 1 Aug 2008:

• Simon interviewed by Bryan Crump, MP3, 22 min, 10 MB