2016 Old Caz ride report

[Mark Ingwersen]

50+ miles of mostly road and some dirt, gravel, mud and a river crossing. If I'd actually prepared myself for this event, I would have known about the river crossing before the start. Fortunately, that one detail was not nearly as much of a hold back as the bike I rode. Old Caz, despite it's blazing fast descents on loose trails, is clearly cyclocross territory. Not having one of those half-breed rigs, I joined the ranks of mountain bike riders ready (or not) to endure pavement on heavier bikes and flat bars. My team mates Greg Alsterlind and Mark Buell were there on fat tires as well, a fact I was thankful for. For this day I chucked the dropper post, swapped to a 100mm stem and a cut down alloy flat-bar. I exchanged my 34 tooth front ring in favor of a man-I-sure-hope-this-is-a-good-idea 39 tooth that paired with my 10 speed 11-36 cassette. A balding Maxxis Ardent 2.3 out front and fresh Ikon 2.2 on the back, both set up tubeless and filled to around 40 psi, my Pivot Les was now road ready.

Greg, Mark and I arrived early. The fog was still hovering over the field across from where we'd parked and the crisp morning temperatures had us layered with an assortment of clothing Jim convinced us we'd be getting rid of once we'd climbed Coleman Valley Road. He was right, of course. We scouted the first climb as a warm up and took in the scenery since we wouldn't have much time for that once the real riding started. A few hundred vertical feet already ridden, we unloaded excess gear and clothing then squeezed mid pack into a mass of some 400 riders.

The start, as expected, was akin to gates opening at a popular theme park with the crowd of riders slowly but aggressively shuffling positions. Mark Buell quickly darted forward in the pack and the next time I saw him he was a mud splattered face asking me if I wanted a beer. That would be hours later. Meanwhile, Greg and I progressed smoothly up the first climb passing what felt like 50 or more riders. So far so good. I focused on a steady pace and calm breathing as we approached the dirt descent. Greg and I had been casually swapping positions up till now, but when the road ended he put the hammer down and I had to work hard to stay with him as he tore past the now handicapped skinny tire brigade. High pressures and short knobs do not a DH tire make and I was controlling two wheel drifts on nearly every turn. By the time we hit the broken pavement at the bottom, we'd passed a huge number of riders that would ultimately return the favor after we took to the streets. Hitting one of the unavoidable craters, my chain came off the non-narrow wide chain ring and I was forced to stop and curse. Chain back on, I thrashed on the pedals to catch up with Greg.

When we transitioned to the road we were on our own but it didn't take long for a group of cycloscross bikers to creep past us and we hung on. I hadn't ridden in a paceline since my early road biking days, but Greg and I joined in. Our group worked exceptionally well together until we hit Duncan road. Grinding up the steep climb we parted ways; Greg and I were on our own again. Old Cazadero Road would have been less frustrating if I'd known what to expect. Long climbs combined with the occasional false hope of reaching the top were wearing on me and I thought of my daughter who once complained that mountain biking seems to consist of riding only uphill. Greg and I both waved off the GU station in favor of continued progress. When we rolled down the "final" descent, careful on the slippery metal bridge, we were in the midst of several riders. With varying company we continued through the cool shade of Austin Creek Road and when we turned right onto 116 again it was all about the head winds. With no pace line to help us, it was hard work and Greg took the lead for the majority of the way. As expected, a group of faster riders passed us and I dug into my reserves to catch up and stay with them. It worked for a while, until one rider took the lead and upped the pace with a shot. I decided to bail and save what I had left for the final climb.

With some relief, Greg and I turned onto Willow Creek Road. With hardly any water left, I pit stopped at the last GU station, grabbed a handful of trail mix, and refilled the bottle. Somewhere along the pot holed road I realized my Fox fork had dropped some internal organs during the ride and the lock out was rendered useless. The front end had become a pogo stick. My legs were tired and I had no intent of sprinting to the finish, so this mechanical was hardly slowing me down now. At the base of the final climb, I set into a pace and held it steady. I managed to catch up and pass many riders that burned out early, including ones from the pace line that got away, and crossed the finish as the 126th rider to cheers from team photographer of the day Dave Benjamin, who got some great shots of Team ACME.

Overall I'm content with finishing in the top half, especially since I went into this with no preparation. Next year will have to be much better though.