Zees Ees Not Mah Mod-eh-ret Pace-Uh.
If you decided you didn't want to come on the ride heretofore referred to as the "Depic" because you weren't sure you could handle it. I have one question. Why didn't you talk some sense into me?
A month or so ago, Ryan Coburn posted on UtahMountainBiking.com that he had an idea for a major ride across the Wasatch. This "Dipshit Epic" aka "The Depic" was going to start at Alta and end up somewhere over by Park City.
As things got organized, Mike, aka MoodDude, from the UMB forum mapped out a route which would start at Alta, climb up over Catherine's Pass, drop down through the west side of Brighton, over to Solitude, up over Guardsman to Puke Hill, take the Crest Trail past Desolation Lake, over to the Mid Mountain Trail above the Canyons, Down to Rob's, then roll pavement over to Glenwild, get on 24-7 to Jeremy Ranch, up little Emigration to the Mormon Trail, up to the Big Mountain Monument then down to Little Dell Reservoir.
For some reason, I was interested in this. I cite lack of intelligence as the primary cause.
That morning at Little Dell where we would drop the cars there were six. Myself, Ryan,Jake,Retro Bill,Mike, and a guy who goes by the name Spider on UMB, met at 6:30 am. As we got loaded up for the shuttle over to Alta, Mike mentioned that another rider had talked to him at length about whether or not he thought he could handle the ride, and had called that morning to say he was coming. He was now pushing a half hour late and just as we were getting ready to abandon him, Mike called and told him if he was still coming to meet us at Alta.
As the sun was rising, I took this picture with me blocking out everybody but the two fat Irish guys.
The other guy, whose name I never caught, showed up looking pretty interesting. Glasses, knee high socks with shin-guards over them, Cargo shorts, and a bandana tied around his neck. When he spoke, it was apparent that he was not from this country. I think he was French, but Ryan thinks he's Eastern European. Ryan thinks just because he's married to a french chick he's some kind of accent expert.
Short story long, we started up the dirt road to Catherine's Pass. Any time I start out climbing right from the truck, I feel like hell for at least the first half mile or so. This generally passes. But with my experience last Wednesday. I wasn't surprised when I didn't feel great for the whole climb. It wasn't terrible on the road, just steady and the elevation got tougher with each turn of the pedals. It wasn't long until Frenchy, heretofore referred to as Peppy LePue, was off the back. Ryan and I waited for him where we joined the singletrack part of the climb, and when he caught up he said, "Zees Ees Not Mah Mod-eh-ret Pace-uh". As had been promised by Mike on the phone. He told us he was familiar with the area, had a GPS, and not to wait for him. Luckily, he also left us with a mantra for the rest of the ride. I suffered through the rest of the climb over Catherines. Just didn't have any legs for some reason. I cite lack of fitness as the primary cause. Once we made the top, I adjusted a rubbing brake that couldn't have been helping, and ate a little. I was soon feeling better. This helped and I figured I would try the next leg.
The views were incredible. Ryan made a comment that with all the Granite it looked like we were in the Dolomites or something. I've never been there so I'll take his word for it.
The descent from here was very technical. A lot of hike-a-bike, for the first mile or so, but it eventually broke out into rideable but technical singletrack. This was a blast to ride, but Mike got offline and piled over the bars at one point. Not even a mile later, he would tear the sidewall of his tire on a bad line. We didn't lose much time stopping but we weren't setting any records. Of note, were the many trail runners we kept meeting. There was some 100 mile stage race and at this point they were 77 miles in. That looked like less fun than what we were doing.
I think this is Mary's Lake. One of the more scenic parts of the trip. Also, one of the few pictures I took. Ends up as I get more worn out, the scenery becomes lost on me.
Once we made it down to Solitude, day hikers became the order of the day. Several stops to chit-chat, and brag about our big plans for the day.
The wildest stand of Aspens I have ever seen.
Once we made it to the base of Solitude, we went to Mike's place. He lives in the condo's in the village at Solitude. Refilled water, pounded some banana's and rested. How would that be to live at 8200 feet, with the pool and hot tub right out the window?
I was feeling a lot better now, though not too excited for the climb up Guardsman. We set out again, keeping it "Mod-eh-ret" and though I was at the back, I was doing okay. Right up until it got steep. It didn't take long to realize that I was still in a bad way. The rest of the pack pulled away, and Ryan stayed back with me for awhile. Then eventually he dropped me. I was alone for much of the climb, and just when I was about to make it to the dirt connector to Puke Hill and the end of that particular climb, Mike spun back and told me that we were going to the top of Guardsman to make it officially a fifty mile run. Dick. I finally made it to the top, and was considering my options for a bailout. I felt like an idiot and was obviously slowing the group down. I decided I would push up Puke Hill and then bailout down to MillCreek, and catch a cab or something back up to my car at Alta. Then everybody got all encouraging and Mike explained that if I was going to push up Puke Hill that I might as well drop off Park City and it was all downhill to Redstone and the next pit-stop. I agreed and began the push up Puke. Now for the record, I have cleaned Puke Hill before. It's not that tough. But this was not the case. Still blown from Guardsman, I was unable to keep on the bike once the trail tilted up at all. I walked at least half of it. It didn't help, that several girls, and old men passed me.
But, all horrible climbs must come to an end. And after a rest at the top, we began the Crest trail. I don't ride the Crest much. Way too many people, but there were only a few today, and it started to perk me back up to ride such a fun trail. Everybody rode the Spine and Retro Bill had a spectacular pileup near the top. He brushed off the dust and ended up riding it. Fun stuff.
From there we rolled over to the turnoff to the Canyons.
I have never dropped over the Park City side from here. In fact, I don't ride Park City very often at all. But once we dropped down, it was incredible. Mid-mountain to Rob's was like a neverending downhill. I have no notion of the actual distance, but it was like we were at the downhill store with lots of downhill dollars. Mike managed to flat again, but soon we were flying down this smooth and fast trail again. A great way to recover from a climb that almost killed me. When we finally spit out on the pavement, everybody was giggling like little girls at the major descent we had just made.
A seemingly quick buzz on the road over to Redstone Village and Ryans office's for Backcountry where he had stashed some groceries.
Refilled water again, and raided his office fridge for some RedBull's. We were all pretty blown, and it was tough to scrape our butts off the soft couches in the lobby.
But since I had to be back to work Monday, we rolled over to the tunnel under I-80 and headed up the Glenwild loop towards 24-7.
I was leading the pack, and I think this was because everyone learned in the Boy Scouts that the slowest guy in the group sets the pace. Strangely when we looked back Retro Bill was gone. I didn't think for a minute that he couldn't keep up with my pace and sure enough when we looked back he had his bike flipped over with some major mechanical. Bill rides a '95 Rockhopper(thus the name RetroBill) and I think the V-brakes with all the descending had somehow caused a major wheel issue. His back tire was so out of true it was rubbing on the frame.
We waited for ten minutes or so, and then Jake was getting antsy because he needed to be back. Mike rolled back to Bill to see if he could help. Spider and Jake decided they were going to go and Ryan and I tipped over in the shade for another ten or twenty minutes. Eventually Mike came back, and Bill had said to go on ahead and to call him when we got done to see if we needed to pick him up.
And then there were three.
It was getting late, and I was tired. After you get to Jeremy Ranch, the dirt road up Little Emigration is at least flat, and some sections of downhill. After you cross the Morgan County line you come to the Mormon Trail parking lot. The best part about this trail is that it is at least 15 degrees cooler than anything else. It follows a stream and is completely shaded.
I still had a little juice and was rolling along pretty good. But not as fast as Bill who actually caught up to us about half way through. This trail on any other day, with fresh legs, would be a middle ring, easy climb. We found a couple other riders who were smiling and enjoying themselves. There was little laughter coming from us. We did take the opportunity to explain to those who would listen that we were in the last leg of a major day. This was the longest three(according to Mike, it was actually four) miles of my life. Then the cramps began. Spin,spin,spin, cramp. Get off, walk, stretch, get back on, spin,spin, spin, cramp. Lather, rinse, repeat. The last half mile up to the Big Mountain monument was all walking. Not just me, Ryan and Bill did a little walking too, Mike however waited triumphantly at the top cheering us on. At the monument we all, simultaneously ran out of water and food. All we had left was the descent back to Little Dell. Another fun, smooth downhill. Or it would have been, if I wasn't just struggling to keep upright. Just running the brakes was getting tough. And this was a long downhill, I don't know if it was just my skewed perspective and wanting to see the cars, or if it's actually that long. For the first time in the day, I was wishing the downhill would end.
It finally did, and we made it to the cars. It was almost seven at this point and we had been out for eleven hours. By the time we picked up the shuttle cars and got headed home, it was almost eight thirty.
Upon stopping, I actually started feeling worse. I got dizzy, short of breath. Enough that Bill was worried enough to follow me home. I did start to feel better on the drive home. And the stop at Del Taco once I got to American Fork was a Godsend.
All in all, the official stats vary, but more or less, we rode 53 miles, climbed about 10,500 feet, and descended about 13,000 feet. This morning after my morning constitutional and fully re-hydrated, I have lost eight pounds since yesterday morning. This is far and away, the biggest day on a mountain bike I have ever had.
I don't actually wish I had been talked out of it. It was the definition of an "epic" ride. And the guys I did it with I now consider great friends. That was until Mike said "Next year lets do a 75 mile one." Dick.
A month or so ago, Ryan Coburn posted on UtahMountainBiking.com that he had an idea for a major ride across the Wasatch. This "Dipshit Epic" aka "The Depic" was going to start at Alta and end up somewhere over by Park City.
As things got organized, Mike, aka MoodDude, from the UMB forum mapped out a route which would start at Alta, climb up over Catherine's Pass, drop down through the west side of Brighton, over to Solitude, up over Guardsman to Puke Hill, take the Crest Trail past Desolation Lake, over to the Mid Mountain Trail above the Canyons, Down to Rob's, then roll pavement over to Glenwild, get on 24-7 to Jeremy Ranch, up little Emigration to the Mormon Trail, up to the Big Mountain Monument then down to Little Dell Reservoir.
For some reason, I was interested in this. I cite lack of intelligence as the primary cause.
That morning at Little Dell where we would drop the cars there were six. Myself, Ryan,Jake,Retro Bill,Mike, and a guy who goes by the name Spider on UMB, met at 6:30 am. As we got loaded up for the shuttle over to Alta, Mike mentioned that another rider had talked to him at length about whether or not he thought he could handle the ride, and had called that morning to say he was coming. He was now pushing a half hour late and just as we were getting ready to abandon him, Mike called and told him if he was still coming to meet us at Alta.
As the sun was rising, I took this picture with me blocking out everybody but the two fat Irish guys.
The other guy, whose name I never caught, showed up looking pretty interesting. Glasses, knee high socks with shin-guards over them, Cargo shorts, and a bandana tied around his neck. When he spoke, it was apparent that he was not from this country. I think he was French, but Ryan thinks he's Eastern European. Ryan thinks just because he's married to a french chick he's some kind of accent expert.
Short story long, we started up the dirt road to Catherine's Pass. Any time I start out climbing right from the truck, I feel like hell for at least the first half mile or so. This generally passes. But with my experience last Wednesday. I wasn't surprised when I didn't feel great for the whole climb. It wasn't terrible on the road, just steady and the elevation got tougher with each turn of the pedals. It wasn't long until Frenchy, heretofore referred to as Peppy LePue, was off the back. Ryan and I waited for him where we joined the singletrack part of the climb, and when he caught up he said, "Zees Ees Not Mah Mod-eh-ret Pace-uh". As had been promised by Mike on the phone. He told us he was familiar with the area, had a GPS, and not to wait for him. Luckily, he also left us with a mantra for the rest of the ride. I suffered through the rest of the climb over Catherines. Just didn't have any legs for some reason. I cite lack of fitness as the primary cause. Once we made the top, I adjusted a rubbing brake that couldn't have been helping, and ate a little. I was soon feeling better. This helped and I figured I would try the next leg.
The views were incredible. Ryan made a comment that with all the Granite it looked like we were in the Dolomites or something. I've never been there so I'll take his word for it.
The descent from here was very technical. A lot of hike-a-bike, for the first mile or so, but it eventually broke out into rideable but technical singletrack. This was a blast to ride, but Mike got offline and piled over the bars at one point. Not even a mile later, he would tear the sidewall of his tire on a bad line. We didn't lose much time stopping but we weren't setting any records. Of note, were the many trail runners we kept meeting. There was some 100 mile stage race and at this point they were 77 miles in. That looked like less fun than what we were doing.I think this is Mary's Lake. One of the more scenic parts of the trip. Also, one of the few pictures I took. Ends up as I get more worn out, the scenery becomes lost on me.
Once we made it down to Solitude, day hikers became the order of the day. Several stops to chit-chat, and brag about our big plans for the day.The wildest stand of Aspens I have ever seen.Once we made it to the base of Solitude, we went to Mike's place. He lives in the condo's in the village at Solitude. Refilled water, pounded some banana's and rested. How would that be to live at 8200 feet, with the pool and hot tub right out the window?I was feeling a lot better now, though not too excited for the climb up Guardsman. We set out again, keeping it "Mod-eh-ret" and though I was at the back, I was doing okay. Right up until it got steep. It didn't take long to realize that I was still in a bad way. The rest of the pack pulled away, and Ryan stayed back with me for awhile. Then eventually he dropped me. I was alone for much of the climb, and just when I was about to make it to the dirt connector to Puke Hill and the end of that particular climb, Mike spun back and told me that we were going to the top of Guardsman to make it officially a fifty mile run. Dick. I finally made it to the top, and was considering my options for a bailout. I felt like an idiot and was obviously slowing the group down. I decided I would push up Puke Hill and then bailout down to MillCreek, and catch a cab or something back up to my car at Alta. Then everybody got all encouraging and Mike explained that if I was going to push up Puke Hill that I might as well drop off Park City and it was all downhill to Redstone and the next pit-stop. I agreed and began the push up Puke. Now for the record, I have cleaned Puke Hill before. It's not that tough. But this was not the case. Still blown from Guardsman, I was unable to keep on the bike once the trail tilted up at all. I walked at least half of it. It didn't help, that several girls, and old men passed me.
But, all horrible climbs must come to an end. And after a rest at the top, we began the Crest trail. I don't ride the Crest much. Way too many people, but there were only a few today, and it started to perk me back up to ride such a fun trail. Everybody rode the Spine and Retro Bill had a spectacular pileup near the top. He brushed off the dust and ended up riding it. Fun stuff.
From there we rolled over to the turnoff to the Canyons.
I have never dropped over the Park City side from here. In fact, I don't ride Park City very often at all. But once we dropped down, it was incredible. Mid-mountain to Rob's was like a neverending downhill. I have no notion of the actual distance, but it was like we were at the downhill store with lots of downhill dollars. Mike managed to flat again, but soon we were flying down this smooth and fast trail again. A great way to recover from a climb that almost killed me. When we finally spit out on the pavement, everybody was giggling like little girls at the major descent we had just made.
A seemingly quick buzz on the road over to Redstone Village and Ryans office's for Backcountry where he had stashed some groceries.
Refilled water again, and raided his office fridge for some RedBull's. We were all pretty blown, and it was tough to scrape our butts off the soft couches in the lobby.But since I had to be back to work Monday, we rolled over to the tunnel under I-80 and headed up the Glenwild loop towards 24-7.
I was leading the pack, and I think this was because everyone learned in the Boy Scouts that the slowest guy in the group sets the pace. Strangely when we looked back Retro Bill was gone. I didn't think for a minute that he couldn't keep up with my pace and sure enough when we looked back he had his bike flipped over with some major mechanical. Bill rides a '95 Rockhopper(thus the name RetroBill) and I think the V-brakes with all the descending had somehow caused a major wheel issue. His back tire was so out of true it was rubbing on the frame.
We waited for ten minutes or so, and then Jake was getting antsy because he needed to be back. Mike rolled back to Bill to see if he could help. Spider and Jake decided they were going to go and Ryan and I tipped over in the shade for another ten or twenty minutes. Eventually Mike came back, and Bill had said to go on ahead and to call him when we got done to see if we needed to pick him up.
And then there were three.
It was getting late, and I was tired. After you get to Jeremy Ranch, the dirt road up Little Emigration is at least flat, and some sections of downhill. After you cross the Morgan County line you come to the Mormon Trail parking lot. The best part about this trail is that it is at least 15 degrees cooler than anything else. It follows a stream and is completely shaded.
I still had a little juice and was rolling along pretty good. But not as fast as Bill who actually caught up to us about half way through. This trail on any other day, with fresh legs, would be a middle ring, easy climb. We found a couple other riders who were smiling and enjoying themselves. There was little laughter coming from us. We did take the opportunity to explain to those who would listen that we were in the last leg of a major day. This was the longest three(according to Mike, it was actually four) miles of my life. Then the cramps began. Spin,spin,spin, cramp. Get off, walk, stretch, get back on, spin,spin, spin, cramp. Lather, rinse, repeat. The last half mile up to the Big Mountain monument was all walking. Not just me, Ryan and Bill did a little walking too, Mike however waited triumphantly at the top cheering us on. At the monument we all, simultaneously ran out of water and food. All we had left was the descent back to Little Dell. Another fun, smooth downhill. Or it would have been, if I wasn't just struggling to keep upright. Just running the brakes was getting tough. And this was a long downhill, I don't know if it was just my skewed perspective and wanting to see the cars, or if it's actually that long. For the first time in the day, I was wishing the downhill would end.
It finally did, and we made it to the cars. It was almost seven at this point and we had been out for eleven hours. By the time we picked up the shuttle cars and got headed home, it was almost eight thirty.
Upon stopping, I actually started feeling worse. I got dizzy, short of breath. Enough that Bill was worried enough to follow me home. I did start to feel better on the drive home. And the stop at Del Taco once I got to American Fork was a Godsend.
All in all, the official stats vary, but more or less, we rode 53 miles, climbed about 10,500 feet, and descended about 13,000 feet. This morning after my morning constitutional and fully re-hydrated, I have lost eight pounds since yesterday morning. This is far and away, the biggest day on a mountain bike I have ever had.
I don't actually wish I had been talked out of it. It was the definition of an "epic" ride. And the guys I did it with I now consider great friends. That was until Mike said "Next year lets do a 75 mile one." Dick.
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