Here is a report of a ride I did NOT do last weekend. I have done some crazy epics out in this park but this was ridiculous: 14.5 hours, almost 60 miles, almost 12,000 feet of climbing. All in one very hot day. :hot:
"On June 17, eleven mountain cyclists embarked on the Coe Hectic Metric odyssey, a long wandering adventurous journey marked by many changes of fortune. 10 returned home intact. One went to the hospital after making it back.
This will not be the final complete explanation of the event and what transpired. It will take an epic to express what can be told. The ride is not over yet.
On the longest day, the longest ride. We say goodbye to spring and hello to summer.
Quote of the day, Jun 17, 5:30 am: "Savor the Goosebumps", from one of a pair of riders as they left the trailhead in cool fresh morning air at Hunting Hollow into what would become a rather warm afternoon ahead in the backcountry.
The course before us was conceptually divided into three twenty mile segments accumulating over 60 miles and 12,000 feet of climbing altogether. Perilous and probably impossible to finish, the tour encompassed many seldom seen niches within the vast confines of Henry Coe State Park.
The rest of us departed at 6:15 am, 15 minutes past the scheduled wheels rolling time. Our goal was to respect our limits and ride within them as we faced a gargantuan ride, and do what we could. Overall the perspective was to consider the ride as doing three back to back 5 hour rides. To finish before nightfall would mean maintaining an average speed of 5 mph. That does not sound impressive, and it's not, but considering the terrain, the condition of certain trails, the severity of the climate, the navigation, and most critical of all, managing the endurance, nutrition, and hydration and electrolyte balance, the ride is not simple or easy. There would be no easy bailout past the first 15 miles.
One rider of 11 was forced to abandon the ride having broken a couple of spokes 3/4's the way down Vasquez Trail in the Canada de la Dormida. His Chris King rear hub laced with light DT 15-17 spokes to aluminum nipples was good for racing and rides near civilization, but not good enough for Coe. I cursed aluminum nipples as junk upon discovering him, one of the pair who began at 5:30, as I attempted to, and failed, to correct the wheel using a proper spoke wrench. Three of the nipples had stripped, and one was completely missing. I strongly suggested he abandon the ride as going forward was dangerous at best. He went home. Otherwise an impromptu 3 day backpacking trip with nothing but crumbs to dine on could have been his destiny.
The other guy in front had tossed him a spoke wrench and wished him luck and forged on ahead, alone, and the latter probably a bad idea.
The rest of us, after a half hour delay, carried on to the bottom of the Dormida, aka Hurricane Canyon, and began pushing our way up the steeps on the other side of the canyon towards the brim at Center Flats Rd. And here is where, in my mind the ride really began, as the group leaves the front country for good and enters the wild realm of trails feral and forgotten, and edenic relic of California's pre-industrial splendor. And here is where each rider must have first felt the edges of their limits and questioned their sanity and fitness, and the dubious nature of the day's ludicrous enterprise.
"Here there be serpents." I figuratively remark to myself about this country, supposedly one day to be accessed easily by vehicles up from Hwy 152 to the Dowdy Ranch visitor center from Bell Station. Now it's still a rarely visited part of the park due it's remoteness.
I will put the brakes on the commentary (to be expanded later on another website), except to add the obvious remarks such as later in the day we probably experienced some double zeros or more in temperature, and many riders found themselves near, at, or in one case unfortunately past their limits. The pace really became 5 mph as we included the stops required to filter water, cool down and rest. The scenery was primeval, savage and raw, the trails were rugged in extremes, and the descending pure joy.
In the end, the 4 riders of the longest course ride finished around 8:30 pm with about 57 miles and 11, 856 feet of climbing (unofficial results). 4 riders did 47 miles and perhaps 9,000 feet. One rider destined for an incredible 2 week Supertour of 100,000 feet of road bike climbing in the Pyrenees, returned second with an as yet uncalculated result, behind the first rider who ended up in the hospital with an extremely critical case of heatstroke/dehydration (his distance and course are not yet properly determined). This guy was riding alone pretty much all day ahead of everyone else.
Two days later, with one rider still in hospital hopefully on course to a complete recovery, I sit here questioning the value of this ride. During the ride I was able to enjoy it all, despite my constant worry about the health of everyone, and returned unhurt, exultant, feeling strong and well. The solo lead rider's demise was unknowable until I returned at 8:15. He is one of my greatest companions and his condition was and remains as I write, critical.
A friend who rode out to meet the group at Coit Lake with cookies and ice-cream on dry-ice in a BOB trailer long ago concocted the dictum: "Don't Coe alone." It's good advice."
"On June 17, eleven mountain cyclists embarked on the Coe Hectic Metric odyssey, a long wandering adventurous journey marked by many changes of fortune. 10 returned home intact. One went to the hospital after making it back.
This will not be the final complete explanation of the event and what transpired. It will take an epic to express what can be told. The ride is not over yet.
On the longest day, the longest ride. We say goodbye to spring and hello to summer.
Quote of the day, Jun 17, 5:30 am: "Savor the Goosebumps", from one of a pair of riders as they left the trailhead in cool fresh morning air at Hunting Hollow into what would become a rather warm afternoon ahead in the backcountry.
The course before us was conceptually divided into three twenty mile segments accumulating over 60 miles and 12,000 feet of climbing altogether. Perilous and probably impossible to finish, the tour encompassed many seldom seen niches within the vast confines of Henry Coe State Park.
The rest of us departed at 6:15 am, 15 minutes past the scheduled wheels rolling time. Our goal was to respect our limits and ride within them as we faced a gargantuan ride, and do what we could. Overall the perspective was to consider the ride as doing three back to back 5 hour rides. To finish before nightfall would mean maintaining an average speed of 5 mph. That does not sound impressive, and it's not, but considering the terrain, the condition of certain trails, the severity of the climate, the navigation, and most critical of all, managing the endurance, nutrition, and hydration and electrolyte balance, the ride is not simple or easy. There would be no easy bailout past the first 15 miles.
One rider of 11 was forced to abandon the ride having broken a couple of spokes 3/4's the way down Vasquez Trail in the Canada de la Dormida. His Chris King rear hub laced with light DT 15-17 spokes to aluminum nipples was good for racing and rides near civilization, but not good enough for Coe. I cursed aluminum nipples as junk upon discovering him, one of the pair who began at 5:30, as I attempted to, and failed, to correct the wheel using a proper spoke wrench. Three of the nipples had stripped, and one was completely missing. I strongly suggested he abandon the ride as going forward was dangerous at best. He went home. Otherwise an impromptu 3 day backpacking trip with nothing but crumbs to dine on could have been his destiny.
The other guy in front had tossed him a spoke wrench and wished him luck and forged on ahead, alone, and the latter probably a bad idea.
The rest of us, after a half hour delay, carried on to the bottom of the Dormida, aka Hurricane Canyon, and began pushing our way up the steeps on the other side of the canyon towards the brim at Center Flats Rd. And here is where, in my mind the ride really began, as the group leaves the front country for good and enters the wild realm of trails feral and forgotten, and edenic relic of California's pre-industrial splendor. And here is where each rider must have first felt the edges of their limits and questioned their sanity and fitness, and the dubious nature of the day's ludicrous enterprise.
"Here there be serpents." I figuratively remark to myself about this country, supposedly one day to be accessed easily by vehicles up from Hwy 152 to the Dowdy Ranch visitor center from Bell Station. Now it's still a rarely visited part of the park due it's remoteness.
I will put the brakes on the commentary (to be expanded later on another website), except to add the obvious remarks such as later in the day we probably experienced some double zeros or more in temperature, and many riders found themselves near, at, or in one case unfortunately past their limits. The pace really became 5 mph as we included the stops required to filter water, cool down and rest. The scenery was primeval, savage and raw, the trails were rugged in extremes, and the descending pure joy.
In the end, the 4 riders of the longest course ride finished around 8:30 pm with about 57 miles and 11, 856 feet of climbing (unofficial results). 4 riders did 47 miles and perhaps 9,000 feet. One rider destined for an incredible 2 week Supertour of 100,000 feet of road bike climbing in the Pyrenees, returned second with an as yet uncalculated result, behind the first rider who ended up in the hospital with an extremely critical case of heatstroke/dehydration (his distance and course are not yet properly determined). This guy was riding alone pretty much all day ahead of everyone else.
Two days later, with one rider still in hospital hopefully on course to a complete recovery, I sit here questioning the value of this ride. During the ride I was able to enjoy it all, despite my constant worry about the health of everyone, and returned unhurt, exultant, feeling strong and well. The solo lead rider's demise was unknowable until I returned at 8:15. He is one of my greatest companions and his condition was and remains as I write, critical.
A friend who rode out to meet the group at Coit Lake with cookies and ice-cream on dry-ice in a BOB trailer long ago concocted the dictum: "Don't Coe alone." It's good advice."
And my kind of ride. 