Classic West Maui Loop

Steve and I headed out early Saturday for the classic West Maui road ride loop. The wind was already quite ferocious. We rode the loop clockwise, hoping the head wind wouldn't yet be too strong along the north shore heading out and getting full benefit of tail wind along the south shore later in the ride. Things didn't quite work out that way.

As we passed the last of the resorts on the west side of the island, we picked up another rider. Turned out to be John Baudhuin, founder and CEO of Mad Dogg Athletics. Spinning, Spinner bikes and Spinerval DVDs are just some of the products his company owns. He comes to Maui for a week every year and commented he hasn't seen wind like this along the north shore. Very pleasant guy to talk with. The three of us loosely hung together for the next 20 miles of wickedly curvaceous, hilly terrain. Much of the road is single lane wide Jeeps can barely fit on. Great for cyclists, especially early in the morning when the tourists are still eating breakfast and putting sunscreen on.

Steve heading up one of the walls

I was hoping to average 4hrs per day riding on the islands. Doesn't look like I'll hit that, so following my modus operandi so far this season, I opted for a little intensity during the ride. There are numerous 200ft walls along the north shore. The biggest climb gains nearly 1000ft in fits and spurts. After drilling about 5 or 6 of these, my legs were rather tenderized and I couldn't ride away from Steve anymore unless he let me. I needed some margin on the climbs. He is a skilled (or fearless?) descender. There are dozens of blind, single lane cliff ledge corners on this road. There is no way to get around a car should one come just as you rounded the turn at the same time. Steve had no trouble putting seconds on me down each descent packed with these sketchy turns.

Steve cresting another wall

The wind in spots was almost enough to force dabs, especially coming around these rock face corners into the wind. It was difficult to hold a line on the descents with wind hitting you in random directions. Soon enough, we'd get some tail wind.

After passing through the town of Wailuku, we picked up a slight descent with perfect tail wind. It was easy to hold speeds over 40mph, the road now with paved shoulders. In fact, there were minutes at a time where I was going 40-45mph and felt no net wind. That means the steady wind speed was at least 40mph, gusting much higher. Bombing down this gradual descent, we passed a cop on the shoulder with laser gun. I was doing 47mph. The speed limit was 45. He smiled and waved at us.

Kahakuloa Head

We stopped briefly to pick up some fluids to finish out the ride. The temp was hovering around 80F. A triathlete couple competing in Ironman Kona also stopped there. They were doing 20 minute intervals back and forth on that road with power taps on their TT bikes. The woman said they were holding 5mph in the opposite direction. I don't think she was joking.

Wrapping around the south side of West Maui, Steve and I expected to continue with at least partial tail wind. Nope. It was partial head wind. Just brutal. We still had 15+ miles to go, not a nice way to end a ride. We stopped at West Maui Cycles to see if rental MTBs are size were available yet. They were, and we pre-paid for pick-up later in the day. Plan is to do the Haleakala plummet on Sunday.

Other than high clouds, the summit of Haleakala stayed clear today

We finished the ride with 58.7 miles, about 4100ft of climbing per the Edge 705, in 3:20hrs riding time. I think it took my wife and I over 4hrs to do this loop on the tandem 4yrs ago. Topo 7.0 gives over 7500ft of climbing for this loop, which is simply wrong. When routes hug cliff edges, Topo grossly over estimates. The 705 barometric altimeter undermeasures on small rolling hills, but on this ride, it probably didn't miss much. Steve rode the loop counter-clockwise before the rest of us arrived on Maui. I just might have to see if I can work that in before hopping over to the big island in a few days.

No-ride Day on Maui

Makahiku Falls

Didn't get to ride Friday. Doesn't matter. Thursday's single climb day was enough to hold me over for a day without a ride. We split up group activities. Steve and Gina have been around East Maui on a previous trip and didn't need to see it again. Cathy, my mom and I hadn't been there yet. It is a long haul. Only 60 miles or so by car, but at 10-30 miles per hour for much of it, it takes 3hrs to get there. Lots of neat scenery along the famed "Road to Hana." The three of us had seen a portion of the road to Hana on a previous trip, so we didn't stop much this time. We were interested in a waterfall hike in Haleakala National Park on the south shore of East Maui. Steve and I visited the summit by bike the previous day. Now it was time to see where all that water from daily rain ends up.

Bamboo tunnel along the Pipiwai Trail

We hiked the Pipiwai Trail in the Oheo Gulch, an area commonly called the Seven Sacred Pools in tourist guides. Typically, you can swim in these pools with waterfalls separating them. But there was a swimming ban in place since the water was running very high. I guess the park service didn't want unsuspecting tourist hurled over a cascade of 50ft waterfalls and swept out to sea as a tenderized shark meal.

The hike is 4 miles round trip, something mom's temperamental knee could handle. With persistent rain, the hike didn't disappoint. You could hear each waterfall well before you could see them. Makahiku falls could be seen from up high, while much further in Waimoku falls could be seen from the bottom. It was too dangerous to stand in the torrent coming down, not because it was too voluminous, but because large rocks are frequently dislodged from hundreds of feet above. Waimoku Falls is largest on Maui, 400 feet.

As spectacular as the falls, walking through the mature bamboo forest was also pretty cool. Smelled very jungle-ish. We got back to the car without getting rained on. The hike took about 2.5hrs, with maybe 30 minutes picture stoppage time.

Waimoku Falls

Mom does not deal with motion well. Never has since childhood. Rather than take the road to Hana back to West Maui, we took the Piilani Hwy back along the south shore of East Maui. The road to Hana is purported to have over 600 turns in it, maybe not more than 100ft straight at a time. Initially, we questioned taking the Piilani Hwy back. It was single lane and dirt in many places, essentially a 4wd road. It cliff hugged the shoreline, often at grades exceeding 20%. At least it wasn't at curvy. Eventually it opens up on the rain shadow side of Haleakala, a vast grassy lava field. We all thought this was much more scenic than the famed road to Hana side which was dense tropical rain forest. It was a good day. Got to experience many new sights and smells.

A couple nights ago, we had an uninvited guest in our room. We came back in from supper, I turned a lamp on and freaked. Right under the lamp on the end table, there was a lizard type critter on my water bottle. It remained perfectly motionless. Then I though Steve or one of the others was playing a prank on me, that it was fake. It sure did look real under close inspection though. Cathy and mom were weirded out by it. So I grabbed the waste basket in left hand, water bottle in right hand. Plan was to drop him into waste basket and release him outside. So while I was holding the water bottle with the three of our face peering closely at this ugly little critter, he leaped in the blink of an eye from water bottle about a foot away to lip of waste basket. There were two women and one man in our room, but I'm sure the people in the room next door heard three women scream. Yeah, we all freaked. He could have just as well leaped and stuck to my cheek with those suction cup feet. Fortunately, I got him outside before he leaped off the waste basket.

Very sketchy Piilani Highway, barely one lane, no guardrails and over 20% grade in places

Saturday was supposed to be our Haleakala trail plummet day, but no bike shops have a pair of MTB's that fit Steve and I available to rent. I'm bumming. Looks like a road loop ride around West Maui will be in order, a 62mi, ~4500ft loop that takes upwards of 4hrs to complete. We'll have to wait until Monday perhaps to do the Skyline Trail plummet.

Along southern coast of East Maui

Creepy crawlers in our room

Haleakala Hillclimb

Hawaii trip Mission #1 accomplished. Today Steve G and I hit one of the biggest hillclimbs in the world, Haleakala. The weather here in the Hawaiian islands has been in a bit of a funk the last several days. A little cloudier than usually, and unusually fierce wind. It is always very windy here, especially in the afternoon, but when the locals talk about how windy it is, it is off the charts for folks from most other parts of the country.

I did a 1.9hr solo ride late Wednesday, wrapping part way around the north side of West Maui. I had my first ever wind induced dab. Fortunately I was blown mountain side, not sea side (cliff drop). Barely got a foot out in time to stay upright. Fortunately I was climbing and not going too fast. The wind was easily 40mph steady with gusts much higher. Throw in steep, twisty cliff hugging road that meanders every which way relative to the wind with a little traffic, I had my hands full making sure I made it back alive.

Thursday the wind started innocuous enough, but slowly ramps up through the morning. By the time Steve and I started riding, we were struggling to hold 10mph up a modest grade with 36 miles of pure climbing ahead of us. Steve seemed to set a pretty brisk pace starting out. I wondered if the numerous interval efforts I did Wednesday took me down a notch. I was actually surprised Steve was interested in climbing Haleakala, as he is a track specialist. This was going to be the hillclimb acid test. Haleakala takes about as many kilojoules to climb as three Mt Washington’s, with no rest in between.

A few miles into the climb, I was no longer wondering if Steve would make it, I was worried about myself. I was sweating profusely in the muggy 80F conditions. Sweat was steadily dripping off my drops.

At cloud deck around 5000ft. West Maui in distance.

We hit our first of two planned stops on the climb at Sunrise Market in Kula at about 3500ft elevation. My shorts were already turning white with salt. I thought I was going to suffer certain electrolyte depletion defeat before reaching the summit. Steve was going strong. The clouds look quite ominous above us. We had hit bits of rain already.

Resuming the climb after taking on fluids and fuel, we get into the first batch of switchbacks. These started in eucalyptus forest. The scent was quite pungent. Once breaking out of the trees, you could count six or more switchbacks above before the serpentine road disappeared into the clouds. We stopped briefly just before disappearing into the clouds for a crow’s view of West Maui.

Red pumice from summit house.

Once in the clouds around 5000ft, it got cold, then it started to rain again. Working hard, the body core stayed warm. We got to the park entrance at 6800ft much later than planned, mostly due to high winds at the lower elevations of the climb. Higher up was mostly in the wind shadow of the volcano. Temp was probably in the 50’s with rain going sideways paying the $5 entry fee for cyclists. The lower visitor center was at 7000ft, our final planned stop before the summit.

We put all our long layers on at the visitor center, something we hadn’t planned to do until the descent. We were already that cold. The ranger there warned us about hypothermia. Yeah, whatever. We’re from New Hampshire and ride when it’s 0F out. But driving rain at altitude when you are tired is a different beast. We managed to stay warm climbing for the next 90 minutes, just barely. I could not feel my exposed fingers or feet. Each switchback we took that went more northerly would go into high winds and rain. Then switching back a mile or two the other way would bring back barely tolerable conditions. The Haleakala highway is right on the boundary between the wet side and dry side of the mountain.

Steve disappeared behind me around 7500ft. I was going to stay warm and wait for him up top where there was shelter. I reached the 10,023ft summit in about 4:45hrs riding time, or 4:10hrs from when the climb actually began. This is almost identical when I rode this volcano 4yrs ago in much nicer conditions. There was no view from the top. Occasionally the sun would momentarily poke through. But the clouds probably went up to 12,000ft. I was soaking wet and struggled to stay warm.

Steve pointing up to summit house with less than 200ft vertical to go.

I waited 20+ minutes for Steve, asked a few tourists that just came up if they saw him, and nobody did. Hmmm, did he abandon? I dropped down 300ft from the summit house to the upper visitor center. Nobody there saw him either. I head back out to the road and there he was coming up, slowly but surely. Now I had to go back to summit with Steve for a “team” shot. Steve’s pace was about 1rpm away from linked track stands. The last half mile is at least 10% grade in thin air with legs that have been climbing non-stop for 4hrs.

I’ve been telling Steve for several years now that I’ll make a hillclimber out of him some day. Well, today was the day. 10,000ft net gain in 36 miles! For somebody that spends more time lugging kettlebells around than riding up hills, checking off a 10,000 footer is no minor miracle.

Obligatory summit photo. Started at sea level. Fleating instant of sun happened to be available for this shot.

By now the upper visitor center was closed (they close at 3pm). There was no where to get warm. We were already shivering and had to descend about 6000ft through rain at temps that were surely below 50F starting out. I only had knee and arm warmers on with light wind shell. No gloves, head gear or booties. This was the second coldest I ever got. I was shivering so badly I could barely control the bike at 40mph between switchback after switchback. To top this off, both our Mavic rear hubs would nearly seize up and howl repeatedly. The first time it happened scared the shit out of me. Any time I went over 30mph, I risked this happening. I’d have to pedal to get it to stop. Seemed to be temperature related, as when we got near the bottom where it was much warmer, we could go nearly 50mph without it happening. It didn’t happen the day before either when I went much faster when it was warm.

I was cramping on the descent. That’s right, no pedaling, yet still cramping. I was that depleted. Even my jaw muscles were spasming. We dropped nearly 7000ft in less than an hour and finally got out from under the rain. We stopped at a store in Kula to get replenishments and heat if they had any. When I asked where we could find some heat, she pointed “down there,” at Kahului at sea level. You could see it 3000ft below us through the open doors of the market. Steve and I could barely count money, we were shivering so badly. A few moments later, the woman came out with two piping hot cups or water to warm our hands on. She couldn’t stand to see us shivering like that. Very sweet gesture.

We finished down Rt 37 this time, a highway with paved shoulder that went mostly with the wind. It was wicked dicy bombing this at nearly 50mph with random gust of wind buffeting you around and cars just feet away. You really had to lean hard into the wind to stay balanced.

With the Garmin 705, I logged 82.5 miles, 10,800ft of climbing, in 6:18hrs total riding time. Definitely more hours in the saddle than I was planning for today. Two-day total is now about 110 miles, 8+ hours and over 13,000ft vertical. Friday will likely be a more spousal centric day before Steve and I head back to Haleakala with mountain bikes to plummet down the crater strewn back side.

Prelude to Summer

What a day for a mountains ride! Dave P and I went up to Lincoln to ride some real hills. Forecast looked great and was pretty much spot on - sunny and 50's by the afternoon. This was my one chance to get a respectable hill ride in before flying off the Hawaii for some of the biggest hillclimbs in the world.

We parked at the White Mountains Visitor Center just off Exit 32. Another rider rode by while we were kitting up. It was still chilly at 9:30am, so therma-fleece tights and two layers up top were needed. I opted out of the wind shell. I brought my Dean Ti road bike out to play, getting sick of my winter tank that is past due for new tires and drivetrain. The plan was to ride over Kancamagus Pass to Bear Notch Rd, turn around and go back over, pass through Lincoln, climb over Gonzo Pass to Rt 25, turn around and go back over to finish. Simple, right? Just two roads and two passes. I've never climbed both sides of both passes in one ride before.

Kancamagus Pass

Riding the Kanc (Kancamagus Hwy) out of Lincoln when Loon Mtn is still open kind of sucks. Lots of skiers were coming up for one of the last days of the season. Once we got past Loon, traffic was minimal, maybe a car every 2-5 minutes. The sun was coming out. Legs were fresh. Life was good. We traded pulls until we got into the 9% stuff. Pulling didn't much matter at that point. I was putting in a good effort and Dave held my wheel closely. I inched it up a bit. He's still there. Inched it up some more. Yep, still there. I was feeling good and reached near Mt Washington race pace, digging a hole early in the ride as I often do. Dave eventually capitulated just shy of the summit. I would pay for this outburst shortly. The summit is about 2100ft net gain from Lincoln.

We bomb down the other side, first five miles at 7% or so, then five miles of nearly flat to Bear Notch Rd. Bear Notch is still closed, but that was a good reference point to turn around at. There was a slight headwind heading back towards Lincoln. We traded a few pulls starting out. Dave took the lead when we got to the 7% grade. I was feeling the earlier effort in my legs. I struggled to hold his wheel. After more than a mile of this effort, Dave motions for me to set pace. I couldn't come around him. Dang. Dave doesn't volunteer much information about his training methods. The gym work has made an obvious upper body impact. But what about the cardio? I guess Buff Dave has not neglected cardio work either. We reached Kancamagus Pass together. From Bear Brook Rd, the Kanc gains 1600ft. That's two 30-40 minute threshold paced intervals down, two to go. I began to fear what condition I would be in by the fourth climb riding at this pace.

Dave cresting Gonzo Pass

After grabbing some replenishments at the car in Lincoln, we crossed I-93 to climb Gonzo Pass (Rt 118). This is another big climb, about 1800ft gain from N. Woodstock. The sun was out in full force now, and the temp was rising rapidly. I still had the layers on I started with and was overheating. My legs were also starting to get that noodly feeling. Rt 118 had some major frost heave issues. We had to be careful on the descent. On the back side is where Bill Dunkerly crashed last spring, sustaining serious injuries. At Gonzo Pass, I had reservations about going down the back side, away from the car. To do so meant there was only one way back to the car, and it involved a 1700ft climb. All great rides should encroach on deathmarch territory, right? Down the back side we go.

The Franconia Ridge and Mt Washington with Lincoln in valley below.

Since we hadn't climb the back side yet, we didn't know where the bad spots were. A lot of braking action was required to be safe. Plenty of sand still nestled in the low spots between heaves, inches deep in places. Scary stuff at 40mph. We stopped just long enough to shed a layer and and inhale Oreo cookies at the bottom. Yep, this last climb would be the finishing nails in the coffin. When we got to the guardrail chicane section, either Dave imploded or my Oreo cookies kicked in. I pulled away. I then surmised that once cresting the summit, it was 9 miles downhill back to the cars. I might as well empty the tank on this one. I maintained highest perceived effort of the ride for the remaining 15-20 minutes of the climb. Really hit the spot. I was crispy critter done.

My heartrate jumps 30% when viewing profiles like this.

Despite snowbanks being 6ft high in places, the roads were clean. The Kanc had just a few short wet spots, but Gonzo was completely dry end to end. Traffic was very light on Gonzo too. I think a 20 minute span went by on the return climb where no cars came by in either direction. The view from the clearing near the summit was spectacular today, with white-capped Mt Washington in full view. The ride went 79 miles with 8358ft of climbing in 4:28hrs riding time. There was nothing dubious about this ride. Four 30-40 minutes threshold intervals were just what my legs were ready for.

Structure and Tread

Looks like the Sugarloaf race last weekend was my last ski of the season. A long ride is planned Saturday. Sunday looks like warm rain in the mountains. As such, I put the skis up with a coat of storage wax this evening.

Warm/wet conditions structure on left

I first took a photo of the bases of the two skis I used most the last couple months. When I bought a used pair of softer flex skis with a fine structure, I had my gouged up RS:11s ground at S&W Sports in Concord, NH. Not sure of their expertise in this area (they are primarily an alpine shop in winter months). I had them give me a warm grind structure. Only cost $10. They look very much like skis that had been rilled for wet conditions. The one time I used them when the sun softened things up, they clearly seemed to be faster than my skiing partner's skis. In new snow on another day, they were much slower than my cold grind skis. This is obvious to those that have been skiing a while, but only recently did I prove how obvious this is to myself. For you mountain bikers out there, you can kind of think of this as full knobbies vs. semi-slicks. You wouldn't want to ride the knobbies on hard as pavement trails. They squirm out around corners and are slow. Likewise, semi-slicks would not suffice in loose gravel or typical slimy New England rocks and roots. With tire tread, you try to optimize traction for the conditions. Ski base structure, along with appropriate wax, can have similar impact on skiing performance and enjoyment.

Wider toe box boot in right side of image (left foot, black). Both are size 41 and a third.

I made another change right at the end of the ski season. While picking up my re-surfaced skis at S&W, I noticed their boots were on clearance. I have never liked the Salomon Carbon Pro's I bought a couple years ago. In fact, virtually nobody I know likes them. The toe boxes were too small and your feet we either scream for mercy after a couple hours or immediately go numb if it was cold out. It turns out the newer comparable model, the RS Carbon, had a completely re-designed toe box. The exact same size boot felt almost too big. I could even wear a normal XC ski sock in them, not having to resort to ultra thin socks to get my foot to fit right in the previous model. Does one boot appear bigger than the other in the picture? They are both 41-1/3 size.

Right thumb still swollen all the way down to the wrist with shades of green

Last but not least, I will probably carry a reminder of a great ski season well into summer. My right thumb is getting back to normal size but still is pretty much useless. It has some interesting shades of yellow and green to it. It will be many weeks before I regain full use of it. I either need to learn how to go down hill on XC skis or learn how to crash without jamming my thumb into the hardpack. Others offered great practice advice for next season. At least my thumb doesn't hurt on a road bike. I haven't tried MTB shifters yet, where the thumb actually needs to do something. I crash maybe once or twice per year on the mountain bike. Since I log a lot of solo miles in the woods, I do tend to ride descents conservatively. On the road, I've experienced only one crash in perhaps 50,000 miles. It was a freak lunchtime recovery ride thing where the guy in front of me somehow unclipped going uphill. He piled in, and I piled over him. A helmet clearly saved my noggin.

Weight Control

I've never had a problem with weight control. I was never a skinny kid growing up, but certainly not fat. Then when I got married, had a child, and adopted a totally sedentary lifestyle, I packed on about 60 lbs over my high school weight in 10 years. There was no struggle involved. I ate poorly, avoided exercise, and the poundage multiplied.

When I got my wake up call that all was not well in 1996, I began to modify my diet. Most importantly, I caught the mountain biking bug. Hours on the bike per week more than anything else took the weight off. When I reached my current steady state weight in the 160's, I found I really didn't have to regulate calorie intake. I ate healthy foods and let the volume of exercise regulate body weight.

I've owned a Tanita body fat scale for about five years now. I bought it after meeting another individual that obsesses over body fat. If you ever get to know this individual, even barely, he's not shy about asking you to strip down in his bathroom to step on his super fancy Tanita scale and report the numbers. For me, the body fat is really irrelevant. I let health and real performance be the measure of optimum body fat. Those scales primarily measure hydration level anyway and only indirectly compute percent body fat through look-up tables based on other data you enter about yourself. They are not very accurate in an absolute sense, only relative sense.

I periodically log my weight and body fat, maybe a few times per week. The results are interesting. First, my body weight has been very consistent over the last five years, deviating no more than +/-3 lbs. Body fat stays right at around 9%. Weight may go up to 166-168 in the winter then drop to 162 in the summer when cycling volume is highest. Also notable is that last year my weight didn't drop much in the summer, yet I PR'd several hillclimbs. I produced higher Watts/kg, weighed more, thus must have produced much higher absolute Watts. Many factors could explain this, but this at least proves you don't necessarily have to lose weight to be faster on the climbs. Another notable feature is that my weight didn't peak as high this past winter. I've ridden decidedly less in January and February than in previous years, skied more, but total less volume. I do know that most of my work this winter was at higher average intensity than in years past. Maybe a lot higher. This not only burns more calories per hour while exercising, but also boosts the metabolism for hours after exercising. This perhaps helped keep the weight in check this winter. I certainly didn't constrain myself on the eating front whatsoever.

It's really hard to say how the past three months of training will play out once the cycling season gets underway. It's not something I fret over. I wouldn't trade any of the incredible skiing in for riding, especially since skiing conditions where mostly superb and riding in same conditions sucked. I have less than 1000 miles on the bike, no hours on the trainer, and nearly 500 miles in the mountains on XC skis. This adds up to a healthy 100,000ft of climbing so far this year, mostly on snow. This ought to count for something.

Hoping to get a long ride in Saturday before heading off to the islands. Options are a Gonzo/Kanc up-and-overs, or even a 4NaaP ride if I can confirm Bear Notch is open. More likely though, it will be a SNH loop, hitting all the local walls like Parkers, Abbot, Pead, Purg and maybe Unc.

Sugarloaf 50k Race Report

This post may be my last ski report of the season. Waterville Valley suspends regular operations for the season as of today but may open for two days next weekend. Then that's it. When I get back from Hawaii mid April, I have bike races lined up.

I made a late decision to do the 50km race at Sugarloaf. It clearly cuts into prime cycling training. It was a three day weekend for me (my company works 80 hours in 9 days and has every-other Friday off). It would have been nice to get in some big rides this weekend. But no, I had to squeeze the last bit of juice out of this epic winter by doing the season closing race. Skiing only once in the last two weeks added to the insanity of signing up. In fact, I've skied less than 50 hours so far this year. Seems like I've done a lot more than that.

I went up the night before with Dave P. We stayed at his wife's folks place in Hartland, ME. Dave and I were doing the 50k race, Beth was doing the 30k tour. They prepared a pasta feast for us skiers. Very yummy sauce, salad, fresh bread, even an icecream based desert. I cannot say no to stuff this good, even if I'm way past the full threshold. I think there was a sinister plan in there somewhere. The Woodbury's certainly know how to host athletes. The meal and room were much appreciated.

Now only if the race could go well, it would be a flawless weekend. Reports from Saturday were to expect some boiler plate on the course. Brett R. went up earlier in the weekend with his son for some Alpine skiing. He also went out on a Saturday morning surveillance lap of the course. The report scared me. With my Hawaiian trip only a week away, injury was not an option. We got to the venue plenty early. It hadn't snowed overnight. The course looked to be tilled up nicely, very coarse granular that sounded like gravel under your feet. But just an inch or two under that was solid ice. Crap. I just knew after the first lap all that wonderful granular was going to be scraped off the descents.

400ft climb up right side of image

I did a very minimal warmup before lining up. Much to my surprise, we were staged according to registering order. I registered just before it closed on skireg.com, so I was in very nearly the last row. The gun goes off and we begin double poling across the bog. I saw only one skier tangle up and go down. Then we get into the trail. Immediately things grind to a halt. This sucked. I was stuck behind a long line of college team girls. Every little rise we came to saw the speed go to zero or close to it. At one point, things stopped, and a girl came up beside me and stopped with both her skies standing on one of my skies. I could not move. I was stuck behind this slow moving mass going up the 400ft climb. It was maddening. A few of the girls were even chatting, not too concerned there was actually a race going on. A couple others would not budge despite repeated calls to pass. About 75% of the way up the climb, I finally cleared this mess with a huge gap ahead of me. In fact, I don't think I could even see the next skier. That is how far back this group was in just the first 3-4km. I very quickly opened a gap behind me.

Beginning the hairball descents on lap one, I immediately knew there was going to be trouble on laps two and three. The course is 16.5km and we do three laps. I utterly suck on icy descents. I did not know the course at all. I unnecessarily braked a few times, got too much speed other times. The granular cover was still good, but by the time the rest of my field plus the 30k race and tour fields staged behind us came through, there was going to be ice.

Lap #1 was a breeze. Conditions were lightning fast despite plowing through deep loose granular. It probably didn't matter what wax or ski structure you used. I was able to press hard into the big climb the second time around. I passed a couple guys and had no interference from a chatty group plugging up the trail. It was my fastest time up the 400 footer and the only time in the whole race where I actually felt like I was working hard. Then came the descents. The steep straight-away with sweeping right hand turn caught me off guard. I had way too much speed going when I realized hockey ice is not a good surface to scrub speed off on. I went down hard, possibly at 30mph. Bruised sit bone and thumb jammed back wicked bad were the result. The two guys I worked so hard to pass came flying by. I was flustered now. In the next two minutes, I went down two more times around bare ice corners with a wee berm to hold your outside ski. I am completely clueless how to ski stuff like this. I think somebody like Colin R would crush the competition on this course though. I was now pissed and quite certain I would hang it up when (if) I made it to the finish area. Sustaining an injury that would wipe out a tropics vacation was not worth it.

I get back to the bog and reconsider my desire to quit despite my thumb throbbing so bad I could not squeeze gels with it. I figured I can't quit a race Dave was certain to finish. Descending is not one of his strong points either, but I figured I lost so much time on that descent he was surely just behind me. He beat me by several minutes at Rangeley last year. We're both improved this year, so it was up in the air who was going to finish first.

With two of three laps complete, I still felt fresh going into the wall climb the final time. This race just wasn't taking anything out of me. It seemed half the time I was putting the brakes on, not doing any work. I skied with about 50oz in my Camelbak again. I only took gel handups, of which I could only get half that crazy thick stuff out each time. I passed the two guys again that passed me when I was in crash mode. I flew past them in fact. I can put minutes on them in a single 400ft climb, yet give it back just like that on a descent. I really need to learn that trick. It could take 10-15 minutes off my race time easily.

A brief, heavy snow squall moved through. It dumped just enough saturated soggy snow on the course to really take the speed down in some areas (not on the scraped off ice though). It made things really tricky, as you'd alternate between granular (fast) and soggy snow (like glue) instantaneously. It made it almost impossible to maintain fore/aft balance in places. Many others I talked to after the race experienced this. You could barely see the new snow pellets, but you sure could tell when you skied on it.

Beginning the hairy descents for the third time, my mantra was "don't crash, think Hawaii." I crashed again anyway. At least this time I knew where all the bad areas were and scrubbed speed before getting to them. There was no edge to be had on any of the steep stuff. I even managed to pick off another guy dusting himself off around one of the meanies. I saw several others go down, even on the first lap. This was easily the nastiest conditions I've raced on. I think Sugarloaf did the best they could given recent weather and lack of snowfall. Send a hundred-plus skiers around a few times, that sugary stuff has nowhere to go but pushed out of the way, leaving boiler plate exposed.

Hickup in lap three might be crash impact related

So I managed to hold off several skiers I passed in the last lap to the finish. I finished in 3:02hrs and change, my fastest 50k marathon yet. Next year I would like to get below 3hrs. I should have been able to do it here today. This course is way easier than Lake Placid, yet I was only 4 minutes faster. The conditions were "too" fast in that it made control dicy, thus having to ski defensively at reduced speed. The third lap soggy dump didn't help either. The 50k race had nearly 4000ft of climbing in it. Didn't seem like it, but all those rollers add up. That was the easiest 50k race so far for me. No bonking, no cramping, still going strong after three hours. I've felt more trashed after some of my Waterville ski sessions. Two PR's today, fastest 50k, and the most crashes by far in any race. There's irony in there somewhere.

Dave finished about 5 minutes behind me. He too has skied only once in the last two weeks and a handful of times in the last couple months really. Beth finished her 30k tour strong, amazingly having skate skied only once this year. Brett finished solidly at 4th overall in the 30km race. I think we all agreed that we'll do it again next year. Many thanks to the Colby crew for staffing this race. I finally met Luke, who manned the first feed station.