Post by Corrine
Only two miles into the East Idaho Epic and I had already made a mistake.
I realized I was not wearing my Camelbak, which besides carrying my water also contained my ID and money. I had left it back at my hotel, five miles from the start of the race. I immediately turned around knowing I was losing an hour of precious time and that I was going to add 10 extra miles to an already long day. Ugh!
Luckily Catherine, the race director’s wife, was still at the start and she gave me a ride back to the hotel where I retrieved my belongings. I lost about 45 minutes of time but figured it could have been worse. What if I had been 50 miles in before noticing I was missing my pack? At least I could continue.
I knew I would have setbacks during the race, my last bikepacking race, but so soon?
My Last Bikepacking Race - Seriously
You read that right. This time I mean it. For real. This is my last multi-day bikepacking race. Don’t roll your eyes at me! I know I said the same thing two months ago after finishing the 3600-mile TransAm/Bike NonStop race. But then a couple of weeks later, I signed up for the East Idaho Epic. So why should you believe me when I say it now? But after 10 years and eight multi-day races with just one DNF (Did Not Finish) - due to an insurmountable mechanical issue - under my belt, I’m 95% sure that I’m done with this type of racing. I would even put money on it. Anybody want to place a bet?
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| These cattle don't seem to believe me, either! |
The East Idaho Epic is a 430-mile gravel race that makes a loop south and east of Idaho Falls and has over 30,000 feet of elevation. There is also a shorter loop option, the Endeavor, which is 265-miles with 20,000 feet of elevation gain. And you have the option to switch to the shorter loop during the race. So, I could always shorten my race if it was harder than I expected.
My reasons for doing the East Idaho Epic, though, were many. Several women I know were doing the race and it would be a great opportunity to see them. The weather is usually perfect in Idaho Falls in late September with sunny skies and highs in the mid 70’s so I could extend my summer by another week. And I could see a new part of Idaho that sounded interesting. Plus, I am still in decent biking shape two months after my long race but recovered enough to do a hard effort.
See? It made logical sense to sign up. But still, this is my last bikepacking race. I swear it. Maybe you’re not convinced. I’ll get to that later, but first I’ll tell you about my race.
Day 1 – Altitude Hits Hard, But I Make it 100 Miles with Nan
The race starts with a 10-mile climb up a road with deep gravel. I was planning to ride 100 miles to Lava Hot Springs, but the going was slow, and I was feeling the altitude. Still, after about four hours, I started catching some of the more leisurely riders. It was fun to see them and know I was no longer in last place after my early debacle.
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| Not champagne gravel |
Then I caught up to Nan Pugh. I’ve known of her from the many winter ultras she has done and finally met her last spring when she came to Fairbanks to do the White Mountains 100 race. My mood immediately improved. Nan is full of optimism and just enjoys being out there riding her bike. She had some setbacks that morning, too, and was moving slower than expected. Nan wasn’t sure she wanted to go all the way to Lava Hot Springs on day one, but I convinced her to share a hotel room I had already booked there.
Riding that far meant we had to ride the gnarliest part of the entire route in the dark when we were tired. We finally made it to the hot springs after a grueling up and downhill hike-a-bike followed by a fast but cold road descent just 10 minutes before the local pizza restaurant closed. We were ecstatic to score some hot food before showering and getting to bed and were happy to have made it 100 miles.
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| Ecstatic that we made it to Lava Hot Springs and that the pizza restaurant was still open! |
Nan is a great riding partner. We ended up riding most of the race together. We would get separated for parts of the day but would come together again. She is a stronger climber and better technical rider, but I take fewer breaks and push to go further most days. It was fun to share the highs and lows with another rider especially one as upbeat as Nan. I’m sure we will do more trips together in the future.
Day 2 – Peanut Butter Mud, A Big Climb, A Frustrating Mechanical
Day two started with a little rain that soon stopped. But it was enough to turn the road into stick-to-your-bike peanut butter mud near the top of the first climb. It clogged up my drive train and kept my tires from turning. I stopped every couple of feet to dig it out. But luckily it was just a short stretch of road and soon we were cruising downhill again.
But just as we reached pavement in the valley, we were hit with another rain shower that lasted most of the way until the next big gravel climb. Luckily the rain stopped before the climb because it was already going to be hard. It was only eight miles but had sustained grades of 10% with close to 3000 feet of climbing, topping out at 8300 feet elevation. This climb was relentless. I had to walk most of it due to its steepness and feeling the effects of the elevation. Oh well, even though I was slow, I was making progress. My clothes were drying out, and it had warmed up. The fall colors were spectacular with the golden aspen and the red maples.
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| Yes, it's raining but we are on pavement so no mud! |
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| Beautiful fall colors |
After another fun descent, we had more rolling terrain. But on the next climb, when I tried to move my front derailleur to my smallest chainring (my bike is older and has three chainrings on the front), my chain fell off and got stuck between the ring and the frame of my bike. It took me a while to get it unstuck but when I tried to ride again, it fell off and caused an even harder chain suck. What the heck? What was wrong? Had the mud caused some sort of damage? Was it the limit screw? Should I mess with it? The other two rings were working just fine. I didn’t want to screw up my other gearing.
I continued riding, holding my breath when moving to the smallest ring and trying not to mash on the pedals. Occasionally the chain wouldn’t fall off and get caught, but usually it did. I made a small adjustment to the limit screw, but that didn’t make any difference. Finally, after the umpteenth time of flipping my bike upside down to dislodge my chain, I gave up. I decided to not use my smallest chainring anymore. Not great on a course with a lot of hills. Luckily, most of the long steep climbs were behind me. Even though my quads were fatigued, I could still climb most hills that were less than an 8% grade. The others I just had to walk. (When I finished the race, I went to Dave’s Bike Shop in Idaho Falls, where they found that a tooth on the chainring was bent. They were able to bend it back and I was able to climb steep hills again.)
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| Dave's Bike Shop was awesome and got me back in action again after the race |
I stayed positive, but it was a hard day. I decided to drop down to the shorter course. Between the altitude, my slow progress, the chain issue, and my fatigue, I wasn’t sure I wanted to do this for two to three more days. Nan made the same decision to drop down to the shorter course. It had taken us 12 hours to just go 60 miles to the town of Soda Springs.
We decided to get another hotel room for the night. I wanted to get up early the next day and make the big 100-mile push to the finish. I was determined to continue to push myself even though I was doing the shorter course. After considering, Nan decided to do the same.
Day 3 – A Sea of Sheep, a Thunderstorm, and a Finish!
At 5 AM the next morning we woke up to cloudy skies. The rain started just as we left the convenience store where we resupplied for the day. The rain was short-lived, though, and the sun came out again. I got ahead of Nan, but she caught up to me while I was stripping off layers as the day warmed up.
Soon after, we had a magical encounter with a huge herd of sheep being moved down the road. We got off our bikes and walked slowly as the herd parted like water around us and the sheep dogs eyed us to see if we were a threat or not. The sheepherders on horses nodded at us as the herd moved past. We couldn’t wipe the smiles off our faces as we got back on our bikes. Such a cool experience!
We continued to ride but soon noticed the clouds to our left building and turning darker. Could we avoid what looked to be some massive thunderstorms? We were only a few miles from a wildlife refuge where we could shelter in a building. We picked up our pace, but the clouds moved faster. We wouldn’t make it in time, so we quickly stopped and donned our raingear just in the nick of time. The storm hit with a vengeance with pounding rain and lightning and thunder. Nothing to do but keep riding the five miles until we got to the shelter.
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| Ominous clouds move quickly towards us! |
We stayed there until the storm lessened and moved on. We heard later that some of the other riders had it even worse than us. Even though the rain stopped it was still cold with a biting north headwind for most of the day. So much for my week of extended summer weather! At least it wasn’t too hot.
The rain and headwind didn’t dampen my mood. I got ahead of Nan, leaving the shelter before her. I rode for hours on a high plateau with rolling hills and open ranch land. I talked to the cattle on the road. I listened to music. I looked around and daydreamed as I kept pedaling.
I kept waiting for Nan to catch back up to me, but she didn’t. I started taking more breaks and walking slowly up the hills. Should I continue and finish without her? It was a race after all. But we had been through so much together. I just assumed we would finish together. Had she had a mechanical? Should I wait? I was hoping to finish before dark, but was I being a jerk by continuing without her to do so?
Luckily, I didn’t have to make that decision as she finally caught up to me about 20 miles from the finish. She hadn’t had any issues, she just said I was faster on the flatter terrain. We rode up the final hills just as the sun was setting and as it became dark, we could finally see the lights of Idaho Falls far below us. We donned more layers and had a fun descent back into town and to the finish of the race. It was only 9 PM, but we finished alone with no cheering fans. But we didn’t care. We had had a great time sharing the highs and lows of my final bikepacking race. And to top it off, we were the first women finishers for the Endeavor route. A top podium finish to end my career!!!!
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| Sunset photo up one of the last hills (photo courtesy of Nan) |
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| We did it! The orange and white sign was the finish. (photo courtesy of Nan) |
Last Bikepacking Race? Yes!
Since I did the shorter course, I had a couple of extra days in Idaho Falls to rest and recover and cheer on other finishers. I would highly recommend this challenging bikepack race but be ready for lots of climbing. It was a great way to finish out ten years of bikepack racing.
And, yes, even after having a great time on this race, I know I’m done bikepack racing.
How can I be so sure? Well, the main reason is that there aren’t any other races on my bucket list that I still want to do. And even if I hear about one that piques my interest, I’m pretty sure I’ll pass it up. I’m getting older and slower. It’s getting harder to do long back-to-back days with no recovery. I want more down time in camp to explore or just relax. I want to be able to stop if the weather is crappy and not just push, push, push. And sleep deprivation is getting harder for me, too. I still want to do hard things, but not for days on end.
Knowing this would be my last bikepacking race made it special. I embraced the good and the bad. I savored the highs and the lows. This race had it all. Good roads, difficult trails, peanut butter clog-up-your-drivetrain mud, steep climbs, fun descents, hike-a-bike, cold mornings, sunny days, rain and thunderstorms, headwinds, tailwinds, sublime moments, moments of wondering why I was doing this, mechanicals, herding cattle off the road, walking through a huge herd of sheep, and absolutely spectacular scenery and fall foliage at its peak.
And like most bikepacking races, the East Idaho Epic/Endeavor is pretty laid back. The race director Jonathon Black is a great guy. He doesn’t care if people change their race, decide to skip parts of it, or make their own adventure. He just wants to get people out on the many amazing back country roads in Idaho. He allows the racers to camp on his horse ranch, just across from the start of the race, so they can socialize. You may not see anybody while out on the course, so this is a chance to see old friends and make new ones. I decided not to camp but I did have dinner with most of the women who were doing the race. It was fun to meet this group of rad women and share stories! I would highly recommend this challenging race to anyone interested in bikepack racing.
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| Me with race director Jonathon Black |
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| Most of the women racers (and one husband) having dinner together before the race |
Even with all that I will be missing, I’m still sure this is my last multi-day race. Now who wants to still place bets on that?
But don't worry, I’m not giving up riding my bike. I might not be bikepack racing, but I’ll still be out there pushing my limits! In fact, Riley and I just signed up to do the Whiskey, Tango, Fondo, a challenging 100-mile gravel ride with over 11,000 feet of climbing in the Sierra Mountains, in late April.
