Vista: Choose Your Own Adventure Edition

 "Now, I don't mind a bit of a breeze, if anything I prefer it, but thon was aggressive. So I says to myself, 'Colm, this is no day for a do.'"

     - Uncle Colm, Derry Girls

Should've listened to Colm, this was no day for a do. I'd been watching the weather forecast all week, it was looking pretty wet Wednesday evening into Thursday morning. But it was only when the storms approached Nashville, that I knew I should wait this one out - tornado watches/warnings, flash flooding, hail, damaging winds. And this wasn't isolated thunderstorms but a massive cold front rolling across the state. I didn't want to camp in that, much less ride through it. It looked like the rain would stop by noon on Thursday, so I decided to just drive over in the morning and get a later start. A few riders started in the thick of it, several more waited for the worst of it to pass but would still be riding for hours in heavy rain. I don't mind a bit of rain, especially in the middle of a ride there's not much you can do, but it was an easy decision for me to wait out a torrential downpour when the rest of the weekend looked beautiful.

I was hoping to be riding by noon, but when I got to Fireside Outpost, it seemed that a few creek crossings around mile 40 were impassable due to the rain. So I ate lunch and waited to see what other riders did while weighing my options: I could ride a shorter, completely different route - a little disappointing after all that prep and planning. I could wait until Friday morning - sitting around all afternoon with nothing to do. I could ride the route backwards - completely derailing my resupply plan. Eventually, a few riders found a detour and at least one made it across. I decided to just go for it. It would be another 4 hours until I got there, maybe the water would be a bit lower.

I loaded my bike and started riding at 2:30pm. For the first hour, the trail had turned into a creek. With the big creek crossings coming later, there was no point in trying to stay dry now. I got completely soaked and muddy from the chest down. But an hour and fifteen minutes in, I hit dry gravel. Another fifteen minutes and I was noticeably dryer. I cruised on, keeping the pace high but sustainable, and more importantly just kept moving. 

Around 6:30pm I got to the creek crossings; they looked deep but passable. I lifted my bike onto my shoulders and started wading in. I was told to go right on the first one to avoid rocks on the left. When the water got to my waist, I got a little nervous. When it got to my belly button, I thought, 'Oh shit! I don't know if I can do this.' I wasn't even in the deepest part. I shuffled back a little, still waist deep, then shuffled left and felt a large rock against my thigh. 'What the hell is that rock doing there?' I put a foot on top of it. It was wide. I stood up on it and realized that was the road. I had gone too far right, and now the water was only knee deep. With renewed confidence, I shuffled forward again, making sure to have solid footing before moving the other one. The water got up to my waist again, but I could tell that was the deepest part. I continued on across. That wasn't so bad. At least my shorts were clean now. One down. Two to go. The next two were wider but not quite as deep. I stayed in what seemed like the middle of the road, using the same strategy of bike on shoulders and shuffling feet. I was excited to have made it across with relative ease, and now there were only a few more miles to the first resupply in Tellico Plains. 

After Tellico, it would be another 130 miles to the next food stop. (There are a few places in between, but they would probably be closed when I went by.) Rather than trying to add up calories, I just figured I would need a snack every 10 miles or so. I finally got brave enough to leave the granola and Clif bars at home this time, knowing they become unappealing after the first few hours of riding. I opted for Snickers and Honey Buns. Turns out I can get tired of those too, but at least Honey Buns go down easily - 230 calories and hardly feels like you ate anything (which can be a good thing). After loading up on junk food and water and chugging a Gatorade at a gas station, I headed up the road for a burger at Tellico Beach Drive In. I stopped just long enough to wolf that down and change into dry socks. It was pretty much dark at this point, but I felt ready for several more hours.

The burger kept me going for quite a while, up and down the hills. I knew I was missing a lot of good scenery in the dark. The roar of the river could be deafening and at times would echo against the rock face on the opposite side of the road making it sound like I was in the middle of it. At one point, away from the river, the frogs were almost just as loud. I came across Kyle, attempting to sleep in the road, not having much luck. He convinced me to try to make it to Indian Boundary to sleep under the pavilion in the day use area. It was after midnight, and I was getting pretty sleepy. The late start meant that my legs were relatively fresh, so I kept going. I had picked up a Red Bull from the gas station earlier for this situation, but I was scared to drink it. My brain wanted sleep, not caffeine. I was afraid if I drank it, I would still want sleep but not be able to. A little before 2am, I found a turn-out on the road and decided to just sleep there. I laid out my bivy and immediately had bugs crawling over it. I shook them off, crawled in, and zipped up the bug netting as quick as I could. I was asleep in minutes.

An hour and a half later, I awoke to a large creature running off into the woods. I don't know for sure, but it sounded like a hog. I laid there for another 15 minutes wanting to fall back asleep but listening intently. It didn't sound like it had went very far. I didn't hear anything else, but I was too alert now. I cracked open the Red Bull, packed up, and hit the road. Five minutes later, I was rolling through Indian Boundary Campground. I continued on to the day use area, planning to refill water there, only to find the bathrooms locked and the water spigot shut off. Bummer. I had less than a liter but didn't want to double back to the campground (which may have also been shut off). I felt well hydrated. It was dark and cool out, and all I really had to do was make it to the top of the Skyway (just the biggest climb on route). After that it would be an easy descent to the game check station where I knew I could refill. It was a little risky, but I went for it.

The climb up the Skyway was long but seemed easier than last time. I didn't see a single car the whole way up. Sunrise approached as I neared the top. Descending would be much easier and faster in the daylight. I rationed my water a little bit, and it was just enough. I filled my 3 liter bladder all the way at the game check station, knowing it was another 60 miles to Copper Hill. About 20 miles later, I came across Jason and Chris. We rode together to the top of Buck Bald and would leap frog one another for the next 40 miles or so. The ridge road/trail before Harbuck had several trees down. I thought these were bad. In hindsight, they were nothing. It was around noon, and I was getting a little sleepy. I thought I might have to stop for a nap, but the chunky gravel descent into Harbuck woke me up. I rolled up to Vic's convenience store, craving some real food and a Gatorade, only to find it closed due to a family emergency. Bummer. 

It was another 14 miles to Copper Hill where I stopped at Kenny's Pizza and Subs for a chicken parm sub and a root beer. Total gut bomb but it hit the spot. While I was waiting for the sub, I checked Trackleaders for the first time since starting. I had expected to catch some people at some point during the ride, and I had only seen 3 other riders so far. So I was quite surprised to see I had caught and passed everybody at this point. I still felt good, basically normal - something I can't explain, considering I was 180 miles in and barely slept last night. In my day to day life, anything less than 7.5 hours of sleep and I'm groggy the next day, but something switches when I'm racing. My goal for this race was anything under 48 hours, close to 40 would be awesome. I was 24 hours in with 135 miles to go. The only question was would I need to sleep again. Little did I know, the next 9 hours would break me, along with all my hopes and dreams.

I restocked at a gas station for the next 55 miles and rolled on to Brush Creek trail which was in great shape although a little rough with the rigid fork. The trail to the Ocoee Whitewater Center was flooded as usual and had several trees down, but I got through them quickly enough. Then it was across the river to the Thunder Rock trail system. This is where things got ugly. After a somewhat steep climb up the hill, it was blowdown after blowdown. Like, don't bother getting back on your bike because there's more trees down around the next corner. One in particular was especially awful - a 100+ foot tree lying along the trail on a steep hillside. I left my bike and climbed up the hill to scout for a way through. I then hauled my bike up the hill over the first part of the tree, then down into the middle of it, under branches, over the trunk, sticks wedging their way into my spokes the entire time, pedals hooking onto smaller branches, banging my shins against everything. I stopped to take pictures of this ridiculousness. I said this one was particularly bad, but the other blowdowns were much the same just to a lesser degree. I'm lucky I didn't break a spoke or rip a brake hose or impale myself on a snapped off branch.

Four hours after leaving Copper Hill, I made it 22 miles to Thunder Rock. I was grateful to be back on gravel roads; blowdowns on gravel are way easier to navigate than those on singletrack. It was about 7pm. I really wanted to get through the Sylco trail before dark, but that seemed increasingly unlikely. In the 5 mile stretch before Sylco, as the sun got lower, I saw a whopping 10 bears! 6 cubs, 3 mommas, and 1 by himself. Right before I entered this unmaintained backcountry trail that's hard to follow in the daylight, and it's now 8:30pm - sunset. I was kind of terrified. I didn't want to do this trail in the dark, but no way was I camping anywhere in a 20 mile radius of this place. 

Shortly into Sylco, I encountered the first set of blowdowns - 3 massive trees across the trail but spread apart. I cut 100ft off the trail, then over the trunks, then cut back towards the trail. After bushwacking for 10 or 15 minutes, I couldn't find the trail. My GPS said I was right next to it, but I couldn't see it. I laid my bike down with the headlight on, took my backup light and started scouting around only to find the trail literally 10ft away. I was much more careful navigating blowdowns after that. I would leave my bike on the trail, headlight pointing in the direction I needed to go, then went scouting with my backup light, making sure to find the trail on the other side before going back for the bike. This went on and on. The sections of trail that weren't covered in trees were hardly rideable. On the bright side, I was making enough racket to scare off any bears. Two and a half hours later, I had made it 3.8 miles to the next gravel road, and somehow I was still in one piece and had a functioning bike. But it was frustrating beyond belief. I was done. Any time goals were out the window. I didn't even care if I finished. I just wanted to be back in civilization, and I wanted to sleep.

I stopped outside the Ocoee Dam Deli at midnight - it was closed of course - but there was a steady stream of traffic on the road. I ate a snack and thought about taking a nap until a car looped through the parking lot like they were checking me out. Maybe this wasn't the best place. When I started riding again, I was shivering violently. It was probably 40-something degrees out, I was sleep deprived, exhausted, and a little under-dressed even with my light rain jacket on. I warmed up on the next decent sized hill though. Gravel and trails will keep me awake, but riding on the road, I got sleepy quick. I was in a bit of a pickle here: if I stopped to sleep, I might freeze; if I didn't I might fall asleep while riding. The former seemed much more certain than the latter, so I kept going.

In Benton, the next town over, I found a 24hr gas station where I got some hot chocolate and a Honey Bun. I sat on the courthouse steps across the street and contemplated my next move. I wanted a shortcut back to the start - back to a warm shower, tent, and sleeping bag. But there wasn't one. So I decided to keep following the route to Needle Eye Outpost and attempt to sleep in my bivy until sunrise. I got there at about 2:30am and was probably sleeping by 3am. 

I woke up feeling reasonably well rested for 4.5 hours of sleep and took my time getting packed up, letting my GPS charge. I watched humming birds buzz through the wild flowers and waved to the Mennonite as they went to the market in their horse-drawn buggies. I didn't feel like quitting completely, but I couldn't handle any more bushwacking. I rolled on to the Hiwassee Convenience Mart to restock for the last 65 miles only to find a 'For Sale' sign on the door. I crossed the street to Steelwheel Diner instead and ordered the biggest breakfast they had - 3 eggs, sausage, bacon, hashbrowns, toast, and two massive pancakes - each an inch thick and 8 inches diameter. One of those was equivalent to about 3 regular pancakes. I ate all but one of the pancakes. 

After several miles of pavement, I walked up 'The Wall' and entered the Chilhowee State Park singletrack. It started off just as bad as the day before - tree after tree after massive tree across and along the trail. I decided to take a 'choose your own adventure' approach and said to hell with the singletrack. I cut over to the campground as soon as I could, cutting out about 6 miles of trail. It wasn't an easy decision. The rest of the trail could have been perfectly fine, or it could be hell. I couldn't know until I was in the middle of it, but I was betting on the latter. Finding out wasn't worth getting beat up, slapped, and poked. 

I considered completely bailing out after that, but I remembered enjoying the last big climb and descent so I rolled on. There were several trees down near the top, but they were easy enough to get around. With the amount of debris in the road, I didn't even bother looking at the Smith Mountain trail descent, opting for a gravel detour instead. The rest of the way was peaceful and uneventful. I ended up with 316 miles (same as the official route) despite my shortcut and detour. Total time: 52:30. Bears: 11. Hogs: 4 (sighted, more heard).

Conclusion

Overall, I feel pretty good about this ride. I was beating my previous time by several hours until the blowdowns slowed me down. It helped that my bike loaded with food, water, bivy, rain jacket, minimal electronics and repair kit only weighed 35lbs. I feel ready for the Tour Divide now - at least I don't think fitness will hold me back. It'll be the little things like staying dry, keeping electronics charged, etc. My feet were wet pretty much the entire time on this ride. Not only do things not dry out overnight, things that were dry will be soaked with dew and humidity. That should be less of a problem out west. I could've used some dry underwear, another pair of socks, and a sleeping pad. The rigid fork felt like a jack hammer at times, more so than my old bike probably due to stiffer frame and wheels. Fork choice is still up for debate for the Divide. Such a late start time means little chance of getting through Sylco before dark - I won't do that again. And next time the storm of the year rolls through the morning of the race, I'll just stay home.