Are you race curious but have never strapped a number to the front of your bike? If so, read on to find out how race virgin and un-racer Sanny got on when he decided to have a crack at this racing business.
Psst…! If you use the code SINGLETRACKMAG10 you’ll get 10% off a 3-day entry to this event. Link below.
“So how are you meant to do this?” I asked, race number in hand and a confused look of gormless ineptitude writ large on my face – no different from normal really. Fortunately, I had seasoned competitor MJ as my mentor/faithful man servant to guide me through the intricacies of what it means to take part in a three day mountain bike stage race in the heart of British Columbia.
With a sleight of hand David Blaine would be proud of, MJ had secured my first ever race number to my bike and suddenly what had been a vague notion of an event far in the future which I had plenty of time to train for was frighteningly imminent.
My name is Sanny and I’m an Un-racer
For those who don’t know me, I am very much not a mountain bike racer. Mountain biking for me is multi-faceted –it’s long technical descents, it’s chatting with friends as we ride along, it’s big sky scenery, it’s carrying your bike up mountains in the hope of unlocking potential trail treasure that the contour lines of a map tantalisingly hint at, it’s the mid ride ice cream or cake break, it’s stopping to take a beat and absorb everything in nature that surrounds us, it’s the post ride chat with friends and family.
What it has never been about is clock watching and trying to get to the end of a ride as quickly as possible. To be honest, the notion has never appealed. I’ve always been awestruck by the ability of my dear friend Nick to train hard and suffer on a bike with a spot at the top of a podium his well-earned reward. He’s won the Three Peaks, been a multiple national champion and has even competed at the Olympic Games. His is a very impressive Palmares and his enthusiasm is infectious but it has never rubbed off on me. I’ve never felt the urge to strap on a number and turn myself inside out to come far down the field. Until now.
“Sanny! Aaron and Ryan of TransRockies Singletrack 3 have invited us to ride one of their three day stage races. I’ve ridden their events before and they have been brilliant. Do you fancy it?” enthused MJ. I paused to reflect on what excuse I could come up with but before I could, he sealed the deal. “Oh and it’s in Fernie!” Bollox! He had hooked me in with sheer bloody cunning, knowing that I had been raving about Fernie since my first visit there the previous Autumn where we had enjoyed some fantastic riding on world class trails.
The un-racer in me wanted to say no but sometimes you just have to say yes and experience new things. “Ok….but on one condition. I get to treat it as an event and not ride it as a race. I’ll want to stop and take photos, to chat to fellow participants and just soak it all in. That work?” With the answer in the affirmative, I was in.
A whole new world of wonder
Walking round the event arena, race number affixed and competitor goodies in hand, I was struck not just by the friendly atmosphere and bonhomie of those around me but also the sheer diversity of participants who had signed up for three days of riding.
If you watch professional mountain biking, everyone is stick thin and appears to be right on the edge of super fit/unwell. Here, there were a number of folk like that but for the most part, everyone seemed, well, normal and from all walks of life. Being my usual chatty self, I met folk from all over Canada, the States and further afield including a fellow Scot.
One competitor seemed particularly enamoured by my Scottish accent as she told me with a cheeky grin that she wanted to take me home so that I could read her bedtime stories! After nearly choking on my ice cream, I suggested that she would love Scotland then as there are over 5 million of us who speak like me! Who knew that a Scottish accent could be considered exotic?
Recovering my composure, we listened to the event briefing, the medical team giving us a really thorough guide to what to do in the event of any on course incidents and how to share our medical info through our phones. As a complete newbie, I felt reassured by this. To drive home the point, MJ then regaled me with a tale of how a number of years prior in the Singletrack Six stage race, he had experienced a long dark teatime of the soul and ended up being on a drip administered by the self-same race medic, so badly had he become dehydrated.
“Nice of you to save that one for the night before the event!” I commented somewhat dryly. To be fair to him, that first experience had not put him off and he was in danger of becoming an unofficial brand ambassador, so many of their events had he ridden since, both on the mountain and gravel bike.
Event Day 1 (Race Day 1 – Ed)
The day dawning grey and overcast, I was secretly glad that the sun was not splitting the skies as I took my spot firmly at the rear of the starting grid. With some 1100 metres of climbing ahead over 29 kilometres of riding on the longer course, I was looking forward to reacquainting myself with some of the trails in the Montane and Ridgemont area.
Offering a mix of tech, loam and flow, this had been my favourite spot to ride on my last visit. With trail names like Eco terrorist, Deadfall and Ruby’s Way, I have to admit to being pretty excited. A countdown, a shot from the starter pistol and we were off – or not. While those at the front of the grid raced off at warp speed, the mere mortals like ourselves edged our way forward to the start/finish arch before riding on a long section of open fire road which helped spread out the riders nicely.
Rounding a river crossing, a rider, bloodied of knee, was hobbling back to the start. “Are you ok?” I asked. The terse “No!” and equally succinct “Nope!” when I asked if they wanted a hand getting back gave me the hint to leave well alone. They looked like one of the serious participants at the pointy end of the race so perhaps best left to their own thoughts of disappointment when all their training had been for a race that had lasted all of 300 yards.
Pressing on, I kept pace with other riders but something was definitely off. I had zero power and my breathing was heavy. Despite my hopes of riding into fitness after over a week of riding in BC, my pre-trip training regime of a six week layoff with a stinker of a chest cold and a Spring spent bouldering and hike a biking had come back to bite me on the arse. I had woken up dehydrated and blocked up in the middle of the night. Had I not been in Fernie, I would have stayed off the bike but I had trails to ride and photos to take so there was nothing for it but to ride at tempo and really lean into being a back marker.
You want to make trails harder? Just ride faster!
At the first trail head for the curiously named Queen V, a line of riders had stopped and were waiting for those ahead to make progress through the singletrack. Heading through the treeline, there was nowhere to pass riders in front thus we settled into a very relaxed pace until riders naturally found their place in the trail order.
Snaking through the woodland on a mix of dusty trail, wooden boards and out onto clear felled hillside that rose and fell relatively gently, I was able to properly enjoy the trails in all their glory. As tail end Charlie, the vibe I experienced felt akin to a group ride with pals. The serious racers had long since passed through meaning that things were far removed from the frenetic front of the race. To my surprise, there were several folk who had binned it on what to my eyes were fairly innocuous sections of trail. All were being attended to by fellow riders thus my first aid kit remained unused.
As I passed, I reflected upon course design and the need to balance technical challenge with a desire not to make it so hard that you put off newbies from competing. I have to admit that I was slightly disappointed that after the big climb of the day, Hyperventilator, we would not be heading down the deliciously rooty Hyperextension trail. However, after passing the fourth rider who had come a cropper, I adjusted my preconceptions as otherwise the on trail medical team would be inundated with incidents. Besides, if you want to make a trail harder, just ride it faster has always been my experience.
The ‘Energy’ waffle
Several more fun trails followed before dropping back in the direction of the arena where I experienced my first food station. Hosted by local volunteers, it was a smorgasbord of treats – full fat Coke (the drink, obviously), nuts, crisps, energy gels and bars of various types including a sensational energy waffle – who knew? – fresh fruit and a first for me, pickle juice, which packs a real punch when it comes to stopping cramps. It was like manna from heaven. I was a very happy boy, even though I knew I had a long climb of several hundred metres ahead of me to look forward to as I tried not to blow out my arse, as Mark Twain never said.
Replete, I set off at a comfortable tempo pace for the long but thankfully mostly gentle climb to the top of Hyperventilator. Seeing MJ head off up ahead, I settled into a rhythm and did my best to spin up without going too deep into the red. Race records were not going to be broken and it became a bit of a mental game to keep going. I was feeling quite wretched at times; my head unhelpfully reminding me that I had ridden the climb much faster last time round.
Hitting and singularly failing to clean a technical, rooty uphill corner section, I found myself being cheered on by medics Emily and Emma whose day job is in an Intensive Care Unit in Calgary and by Trail Ambassador Matt. They were there to offer on trail medical support and could race down the trail to reach any injured competitors.
Fortunately, none had required their help other than me who very much welcomed the opportunity to stop and chat and to try and turn off the human fountain sweat machine that I was in danger of morphing into. Leaving them behind, it was a short schlep up to the top of the trail where I regrouped with MJ. A seasoned veteran of the Singletrack events, he initially struggled with the notion of not racing it but to his credit, he had gotten into the role of photo bunny with good grace and humour, even when I asked him to re-ride a section of trail (climb, of course) just one more time for the umpteenth time.
The restorative power of food
What goes up must come down and as downs go, these were most welcome. Castle Rocks, Southern Comfort and South Castle flew by in a whizz of trees, corners, flowers and meadow. It felt good to be riding at speed as we whooped and hollered our way down the trails, ever mindful that the local wildlife is substantially bigger and potentially more bitey than what we have in the UK.
Reaching a fire road levelling, we popped out at the second and final food stop of the day, skilfully womaned by Sue and Emily (why do we always say manned?) who somehow managed to understand my Glaswegian accent as I filled my face with another first, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Being informed I was in the last twenty of registered riders, I suddenly came over all competitive. The Lanterne Rouge was well and truly in play.
After arguably filling up with more calories than was entirely necessary, we bade our comestible proffering saviours farewell and headed downwards for the final few kilometres of the race. Knowing I did not have any long climbs ahead of me, I perked up and really got into the swing of things. Bombing down a gloriously switch backing bermed trail through the Montane Area, I let MJ head off as I took my time to just savour the moment.
Late spring flowers littered the trail and I have to admit that I was in no rush for the ride to end. However, I was conscious that I didn’t want anyone coming out to look for the weird Scottish bloke who was somewhere out on the trail so pressed on. Reaching the arena, I had a big grin on my face as I crossed the finish line; something that continued well into the evening when I found out that I was DFL. Lanterne Rouge, baby! Mission well and truly accomplished – for day 1, at least.
Day two – the Queen Stage
After an outstandingly good burger and chips in the Cirque Restaurant in Fernie Resort where we were staying (seriously, who knew that putting batter on fries makes them so unbelievable delicious? I am amazed that my own fair nation, known for such culinary delights as the deep fried Mars Bar, was not the progenitor of this) and a better night’s sleep, I felt refreshed for Stage 2.
Still not 100%, I opted to tackle the shorter Prospector distance course – 20.4km with over 500 metres of elevation, as opposed to the 47.5km Miner course that started further up the valley at Sparwood, home to the World’s largest dump truck. Starting at the Urban Explorer’s delight that is the long since abandoned Hosmer Mine, derelict concrete building standing as an eerie reminder to a short lived coal mine that operated for only six years in the early 1900’s, we were set to follow the path of the Elk Valley all the way back into Fernie.
With time to kill before the long course racers passed through, I chatted with the ever enthusiastic Drew, whose commentary skills did a fine job of cheering on competitors as they whizzed past. After discussing the intricacies of course design, he asked if I wanted to fire the starting pistol to see off the first group of short course riders. After a lesson in how not to unwittingly injure myself or others, I felt rather pleased with myself as my new found status of race starter went without anyone being maimed or losing an eye – always a good start. It was only when MJ rode past that I realized that I was due to be riding in the first wave. What a pudding!
Drinkies, anyone?
Hastily jumping on my bike, I set off at pace to catch up and positively flew along for all of, oooooooh, fifty yards before coming to a rapid halt. What I hadn’t figured into my plans was Sue and Emily having prepared a special “isotonic” drink for me to try. “Fireball?” Emily enquired, a knowing grin on her face. Not being a seasoned drinker, the thought of cinnamon infused whiskey would normally give me the boak (That’s feeling sick – Ed) but when in Rome etc.
Delivering what can only be described as a shaky hand house measure, they filmed me as I downed it in one. Once I had gotten over the initial shock of the heat of the alcohol coursing through me and grateful for not having turned blind, it was actually a lot more pleasant than I had been expecting, much to the cheers of the gathered throng. “We don’t normally do this but figured that since you are Scottish, you’d be ok with it” Clearly, the Scottish reputation for hard drinking preceded me. Armed with the confidence of someone a tad worse for wear, I bade my fond farewells and got back to the race at hand.
As trails go, it had everything that I could have hoped for – tree lined singletrack, none too demanding climbs, long sections of gently flowing descent and ever expansive views of the surrounding mountains and soaring peaks, the closer we got to Fernie. Having waited for me, MJ dutifully posed for photos and re-rode sections. Stopping to take shots, passing riders checked on our wellbeing. We were of course fine but it instilled a sense of genuine camaraderie and shared enjoyment.
There were several hundred of us on the course but it never felt unduly busy. At a couple of points, we bumped into professional lensman and friend of the magazine, John Gibson, who was taking photos of competitors along the course. Eyeing up his Giant e bike, I reflected on just how much e bikes have made the work of the race photographer that much easier. Perhaps that’s what the e should really stand for?
With the sun breaking through, I got into a really nice rhythm as the kilometres ticked by and I settled into simply enjoying the whole ride experience. At the final feed stop, I marvelled at the use of an electric drill to mix up a barrel of electrolyte drinks while indulging in another energy waffle before the final switchback climb of the day.
Cresting the top, a well-earned, dust laden descent followed, the dappled sunlight and kicked up dust making for conditions that we rarely ever experience here in the UK. I quickly caught several riders in front of me but had no desire to blaze past them as I found myself riding in a state of what can best be described as mindful contentment.
Heading back into the arena, it was a considerable busier affair than when I finished last the previous day. The Coal Creek Heritage Society Ride and Roast Festival was in full swing. With a mix of fun events from an E bike rally, Kids’ bike rodeo, community and bike industry booths, food stands including the always essential ice cream van, live music and a meat roast off, the arena was absolutely buzzing and continued to do so for several hours after the last stragglers had come in.
Day 3
With a cold kicking in overnight, I left it to MJ to fly the racing flag for Singletrack while I got to see up close the furious hive of activity that comes with organising a three day mountain bike stage race. Everything from course design and marking, organising volunteers, offering first aid facilities, negotiating with land owners, running timing facilities, offering bike servicing, recording and publishing results along with the other myriad of other often thankless tasks that go into making an event appear to be seamless and slick could be seen in the fruits of their labours.
Over the course of the event, chatting with the likes of Aaron, Drew, Dia, Ryan and Jen who form the cornerstone of the TransRockies Team, I had nothing but admiration not only for their dedication and commitment but also their ability to keep smiling throughout. Everyone involved works incredibly hard to make a success of the event and for it to run smoothly; something which really came through when I took the opportunity to speak with a number of riders after the event. To a woman and man, they were all effusive in their praise of the event and the organisers. Almost everyone I spoke to was keen to tell me that they had ridden other TransRockies events or intended to do so going forward, something which I took as a genuine measure of success.
When MJ crossed the finishing line to collect his medal, he waxed lyrical about the singletrack descents while recounting an encounter with what may have been a bear ambling through the dense undergrowth at one point on the course. He had added another TransRockies event to his growing Palmares, had the medal to prove it and had almost seen a bear in the process.
All in all, it had been three excellent days of adventure. For my part, reflecting on my experience of treating it as an organised event and not a race, I came away feeling overwhelmingly positive. I had very much embraced the persona of last man standing and thoroughly enjoyed it.
I had gotten to meet some really interesting characters and ride some genuinely fantastic trails in world class scenery. I had tried energy waffles and drunk Fireball. I still have no desire to race but as an event rider, well, that’s a whole different question and one I will continue to ponder now that I have read they also host an event in Moab…
Perhaps another trip across the pond may be called for?
More Fernie and TransRockies reading
- Fernie, BC: the Singletrack destination guide
- TransRockies returns to Fernie: the birthplace of North American MTB stage racing
- Issue 164: Oh Canada! Fabulous Fernie
- Uncharted British Columbia
Psst…! If you use the code SINGLETRACKMAG10 you’ll get 10% off a 3-day entry to this event.
Loved that.
Will admit to Googling ‘energy waffles’.