Prepping for the Cape Epic

[Jeremiah Bishop checks in as he and his Topeak-Ergon team prepare to embark upon the challenge of the 2015 ABSA Cape Epic: the 8-day mountain bike stage race across South Africa. These accounts will be featured with additional photos on DirtRagMag.com]

We are staying at a little gem of a place called the Ride Inn. We booked accommodations with kitchens, but the inn’s café is amazing; it has red bush tea, solid espresso and to-die-for baked goods.

Here at Topeak-Ergon Cape Epic headquarters, our pre-race preparations are coming along great, but the week started with a scare. A wildfire just hit the nearby mountain and many of the bike trails in the area. Our team almost had to evacuate yesterday.

On the drive in from the airport, I saw a line of fire on the mountain that looked like a giant “M” creeping across hillside. ‘Whoa! That’s is big!’ I’d heard there was a wildfire burning nearby, but I’d thought it was like a couple acres not a couple of thousand! Due to the smoke and ash carpeting the ground, I could tell it was close. I opted to stay down the hill at the accommodations that the team booked when David and Sally Bingham decide sleeping within sight of the fire-line was not safe.

Luckily, the fire is now under control thanks to the fire fighting helicopter pilots and ground crews that have been working for days.

Now, the mood is relaxing here at the Ride Inn. Once the ashes and burned areas are cleared, I’ll have to come back for the 3-hours plus of smooth fast singletrack. The dramatic backdrops of steep rocky mountains and promises of pay-to-play berms through dry brush and pine groves are tempting when rest is the goal. We did get out on a short ride at a nearby vineyard trail network of flowing hillside trails that weave through eucalyptus and vine stock. It made me think I need something like this in Virginia!

The scene here is part service course and part lounge as the riders do some light training. The mechanics Peter and Giovanni have been tuning the bikes and back-up bikes as well as the crucial six service boxes that riders can access during the stage race. During the race, no outside assistance is allowed; too many support vehicles on private property would be a problem. In fact, STRAVA downloading during the race is prohibited! Each of our service boxes has enough parts to build a frame into a full bike. There are even six seat post/saddle sets with each rider’s ride height marked on them. It’s a pretty pro operation, as you’d imagine.

David and team manager Dirk have sorted out the RV’s. All three of them are primed, stocked and our team chef shows up tomorrow night. This is definitely not your normal race; this is the CAPE EPIC! Defending the title is the team’s goal, so it’s a big effort.

At the pre-event press conference all the heavy hitters sized each other up and made nervous jokes in front of the TV cameras. Will Kulhavey and Sauser bring the heat for Sauser’s last Cape Epic? The Bulls have two teams including 4-time Cape Epic winner and multi-time stage winner Karl Platt of Germany, and they are hungry for a win. Of course the Centurion Vaude team is very strong. Will Rudi van Houts and Jose Antonio Hermeda of the Multi Van Merida team go for GC or stick to their XC roots and just pick stages?

For now we rest prepare and hold the excitement for the Table Mountain Prologue. Anything can happen, so it’s best to be calm and ready when the gun goes off!

I’ll check in again after Stage 2.
Jeremiah Bishop

Back to Bike Racing!

This winter, I have been training like a blacksmith making armor for an epic battle looming on the horizon. So I was eager when it was finally time to travel to the first race in mid-February. I was headed for the Andalucía Bike Race in southern Spain.

With so many weeks spent training in winter’s cold, I decided I’d earned a couple of good sightseeing and time-zone-acclimating days in Europe in advance of the race. I made my way to Spain via Nicé, France, where I enjoyed a few days training with World Tour climbing ace and good friend Joe Dombrowski.

Right off my overnight trans-Atlantic flight, Joe took me out for a dream road ride. We nailed a five-hour route with 10,000 feet of elevation gain in 60 miles. It was like a pinball game made for road bikes. Every legendary climb in Cote d’Azur is marked with cycling signage; kilometer-to-go markers and numbered switchbacks line each ascent. When we descended, we were like darts. There were high-speed potentially deadly cliffs with 180-degree turns, spirals and tunnels. Wow! It was like riding down a gravity-fed paved roller coaster of serpentine switchbacks with the azure Mediterranean an incredible backdrop. At one point, the sheer vertical drops made me nauseous; or maybe that was the mere three hours of sleep I was living on.

After a couple days of getting on the time zone, I also had a chance to adjust to the food. Better than amazing, I feasted on mushroom tortellini, nice wine, and octopus ink pasta one night, and loup de mer (sea wolf) the next.

I had to wave farewell to Nicé; the real adventure was next. I joined my Topeak-Ergon team in Spain’s olive country between Cordoba and Jaen for our team orientation and the first race of the year.

There was a lot to learn – and quick!

I had a new Canyon Lux with custom RS1 and prototype tires. Yes! I was like, “Oh, yeah! I got a license to drop some trail!” The bike is sharp, smooth and looks mean! And then there was the fact that I was racing as part of a two-man team. Within the race, Topeak-Ergon divided our squad into two pairs: a lead team and the support team.

I have known our team captain and former World Marathon Champion Alban Lakata for years. He would join Kristian Hynek for our “A” team. In our support roles, my race partner Robert Mennen and I were sizing each other up. Last year, Robert won Cape Epic. Meanwhile, I was competing in the US cross country and endurance race scenes and had a couple US titles under my belt. It was like pairing a Formula 1 and NASCAR driver – in the best ways.

Coming into the Andalucía Bike Race, Robert was recovering from a recent a chest cold; and I was about to see where my fitness was. I’d been working hard in the off-season, but in the absence of racing it’s tough to know for sure. As we took on the ABR, we found that our pairing worked well. Robert liked to rip it on the downhills and flats, and I was stronger on the climbs.

The racecourse was harder than I thought it would be. The climbs were massive and there was slick mud over soupy limestone covered trails! During a couple stages I thought, “Am I out of shape or are we really climbing 10,000 feet on mountain bikes in just 3.5 hours?” (Leadville does this amount of elevation over 6.5 hours)

A large part of the first-race-of-the-year-shock was mostly the wake-up call that comes from facing a globally competitive field so early in the season. My form is there, and now the motor is warmed up. In fact, the race did get easier as it went on. In our support roll, we knew it was more about smooth consistent riding and getting in a solid ride.

In the first days of the stage race, I figured out the hard way that with six hundred riders fighting for the first trail made the racing much more like a cross-country race initially. I was focused on trying to find Robert in the sea of others. This approach had me back in the 50s and stuck in an epic traffic jam. There were a couple of crazy crashes on the fast road roll-outs; bodies flying, people dismounting to run over ditches and shouting back in the melee as riders took shortcuts. We could be shuffled from 17th to 47th in an instant on the double track.

After Stage 2, things became a lot smoother. Our reflexes sharpened, plus our endurance kicked in. Our team-based riding strategy fell into place. We got into the top-4, and then found life was easier.

The “Ah, ha!” moment happened during Stage 3. Instead of looking for my teammate during the hectic first minutes of the race, I decided I’d better just get my ass in position for the fight! Later in the stage, stage we chased down Team Bulls and out-kicked them to the line. Now it was evident we were riding as a team and having a great time. On the back-to-back monster climbs, our combined form was not as high as Kristian and Alban; but with a couple weeks of rest after ABR, I think I will be able to work some good tactics at the Cape Epic. Most importantly for a back up team, we will be there if trouble hits our leaders; lending a wheel or attending to chase-duty on the road sections.

The other thing special about a stage race is the amount of equipment and logistics involved. The next day’s preparations start the second you finish today’s stage. Proper recovery, fuel and rest are critical. Lucky for us, our soigneurs Torsten and Giovanni, mechanic Peter, and team manager Dirk were on point and on time – so well prepared, they seemed to have telepathy for our needs.

The whole goal for Andalucia Bike Race was learning the ropes of how to ride as a team and get settled in the groove with new gear and such. Now we have bonded over great racing and lots of good multi-cultural jokes spoken in three languages. This team rhythm will pay dividends in the most important mountain bike race stage race on earth: The Absa Cape Epic.

One thing is for sure: we have a big adventure coming and I am excited to be in attack mode to help Topeak-Ergon defend the win at the Cape Epic.

Africa, here I come!

Adventure is Driving Me

[This is the second part of “The Biggest Bike Week of My Life” previous blog entry. I was left on my mission alone; riding in the dark in a forest area of almost two million acres.]

My headlamp cast shadows, fixed silhouettes like pop-up books. Smoky grey and browns and charcoal black: the new colors of the night world. It was spooky. Trepidation, the fear of the unknown; the dark place in the mind creates much worse things than the real places where darkness dwells.

That having been said, the silhouette of a pit bull charging toward me in the dark was something really to be scared of! Because my lights only pointed forward, I could just get a couple glimpses of the muscled white dog getting into position. My hair stood on end. Out of the corner of my eye, I could only see teeth barking at me from 7 o’clock. I burst to full speed and could hear its nails on the pavement. “Scratch, scratch, scratch,” from each paw searching for traction. I could hear the tires ” vrrrrip, vrrrip, vrrrip” and I drove the pedals full gas on the slight uphill.

As the dog sounds’ faded into the distance, I breathed a deep sigh of relief. ‘That was not cool,’ I muttered.

(Days after my adventure, my wife overheard me telling this story to a friend. She exclaimed, “Why didn’t you tell me about that? You should carry a gun so you can shoot at things you can’t see in the dark! Especially in Africa!” Not a great idea, on second thought.)

My hands and arms were raw and tired and my back hurt under the strain of rock moves, log jumping, portages and hike-a-bike sections.

Entering Douthat State Park was a nice respite from the evil backcountry trails whose rocks, ravines and tree-strewn trails threatened to swallow me whole. I was now on a mountain bike roller coaster around slender bench-cut singletrack. Delightful ribboning switchbacks are the legacy of the Civilian Conservation Corps.

I finally hit my first real stop 11 hours into my ride. At the end of the Park road, I pedaled toward the lone gas station, stomach growling and legs weak. I was hoping it was open at 2 a.m., since there was nothing else there. My pedals turned slowly. I tempered my excitement, thinking if it’s closed, I guess I’d just take a nap in the wet grass.

Welcome to Vegas! I rounded the corner to see the lights on that said “OPEN!” WOO HOO! As I entered the store, it was sensory overload like a casino floor of sweets and junk food and salty heaven! All the shiny wrappers and glowing signs blinded me and stole my night vision.

I bought giant bag of trail mix, had a “white-trash mocha” (equal parts gas station coffee and machine-dispensed cappuccino) a Snickers, a doughnut, some mini chocolates and cheeseburger.

The bloodshot-eyed attendant asked in a southern draw, “You need a bag?”

“No thanks.” I ate it all on the spot. I had to get caught up with calories since my poor planning had me without food for the last two hours on the trail.

Recharged and feeling solid, powered by a 2,000-calorie snack, I got back in the groove and finally started north. As I climbed, I exited the groomed State Park and it was evident I was again in the backcountry!

While riding the damp sapling-hell of tangled low trees, at times I could only see three feet ahead of me. I thought how easy it would be for a bear to get surprised by my unexpected appearance and attack. (The night lets thoughts creep in which normally don’t pop up in the day.)

On Little Mare Mountain I had a couple scares. Portaging my bike over a down log, I smashed my shin sharply into the pedal and almost collapsed from the pain. I thought, ‘I might be stranded out here.’ Luckily the pain subsided. No major injury, I carried-on. Trying to ride a rock garden, I crashed which had me putting my ankles between two rocks as I fell. This one could have been BAD! I managed to go the rest of the route without too much trouble; not an easy task when I couldn’t even see below the knee-deep brush. I pushed on.

It was 3 a.m. I finally got a call through to my emergency pit stop crew and coordinated a drop. I navigated the strange new trail in awe that I had never ridden Brushy Mountain and its sick side-benched goat path before. Was I 100 feet up? 2,000 feet up? Since it was dark, I was not sure, but didn’t plan to fall down and find out.

After riding for hours with not even a flicker of light from a house a car or anything, I crossed the swinging bridge over the Cowpasture River. Ahead I spied a car headlight. I heard some kids shouting? As I got closer, I heard “MUNGA! MUNGA! MUNGA!”

It was the boys! I was ecstatic to see my friends Danny Gibney and Dan Wolfe who surprised me out here at 3:30 in the morning. I had some cold pizza and shared some stories over a few Cokes. It was sweet after the jungle track I had just survived.

Elliots Sun Rise
My next section was twenty miles of road and dirt road. This however brought faster speeds, and as the temperature dropped, my knees were freezing cold and causing quite a bit of pain. I pushed hard, as I have found the endorphins block pain.

The darkest hour before twilight – the witching hour – was approaching. I matched my longest bike ride ever during this hour. Elliotts Knob – the biggest climb to the highest point – was ahead. I was dreading the hour and a half of climbing with steep leg-saping pitches, hike-a-bikes, rock gardens and impenetrable briars wet with dew would make it the biggest test of the ride. I pushed through, talking myself into thinking if this is only one of the three big pre-Munga tests, then its worth at least $20,000 to be under 20-hours (my time goal for the ride).

I was rewarded at the top by the golden orb burning thru the mist.

The most beautiful sunrise I have ever seen; like a giant tangerine wrapped in downy rose petals against antennas at the top of the 4,500-foot peak. Hello, sunshine!

Wave after wave of clouds filled the valley floor below. It was like being on an island!
The descent off Elliotts Knob was indescribable; high-speed sidehill singletrack interspersed with rock gardens, switchbacks and small trees in full autumn foliage as I descended into the clouds!

Then Crawford Knob’s “four walls” nearly stopped me in my tracks. These hike-a-bike sections were hell. I could barely push the bike without my feet sliding backwards. Like walking up a ski slope, I was starting to hurt again but in new ways; feet and hamstrings ached. I felt like a fly on flypaper.

I eventually toped out on Crawford Knob. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel!
One more trail to go! Half an hour climb up Hanky Mountain and then I’ll be able to sail back to the Stokesville Lodge. But first, I had the best descent of the whole ride: bench-cut side-hill single track at 30+ mph with carve-alicious turns and switchbacks. I had Cinderella’s shoes on, powered by sunshine again! I knew, despite my excitement, that my sleepiness could have me wrapped around a tree, broken and bleeding in no time, so I checked my excitement.

At the bottom of the descent, I saw two ribbons hanging from a tree with reflective tape marking a drop box the guys had stashed for me. I dreamed of pepperoni pizza. I could taste bacon, egg and cheese on a buttery croissant in and all its salty glory.

Inside the box were just some gels, energy bars and a Coke, but I guess it was all sugar I needed to keep on going. I made a quick pit, decided upon sitting down for two minutes. I was only training, so it was okay.

I pushed hard at the final climb, finding a new energy and motivation and the hope that the harder I went up to climb, the faster I’d get back. I was amazed that I was actually starting to feel good again! The sun warmed me. The shivers and bad dreams of the night seemed days ago. I was in flight, hammering! WOW!

Reflection on how it felt
20,000-feet of climbing! 19.5 hours and 165 miles with darkness, hike-a-bikes, thorn caves and stream crossings, steep-ass trails with loose rocks, glowing animal eyes, and riding through brush traps all paled in comparison to the mental beast. I had overcome thorny doubt, cold despair and crystalline fear. With an escort by Chris Scott through the final mile of trails, I was fired up. It felt better than winning an XC national! I had done something no one has done before and something I thought I might not be capable of doing!

I have just opened the door on this game, but have a newfound respect for ultra-endurance cyclist. The dull ache of the legs, the raw skin-breaking pain of a saddle wearing your skin, and then there’s the pain of mental fatigue: the drain, the sinking feeling. Much like waves crashing up against the beach with different pulses of intensity and duration, but always the farther it recedes and the better you feel. You know it’s going to come back strong again just when?

Over coming these obstacles is a huge thrill. Honing your mental game is to sharpen an ax, doubling its effect at cutting anything you should choose to go after.

I was surprised how many times I smiled on this ride. I did actually have a blast. It wasn’t the hell I thought it would be. During the trip, I was under a magic spell. The feeling of riding at night with no one else around, the stars twinkling, the animals howling and hooting under the moon, just the silence of my bike moving in the woods. The mission kept the pain away and in this case, the thrill was well more than the cost.

I thought how extremely lucky I am to be able to do this ride: living a dream. I felt with this big test behind me, I was definitely capable of going the distance in The Munga.

Then like a bombshell, I read the headlines, “The MUNGA is postponed until 2015.”

Oh NO!

After the initial shock subsided, I got to thinking a bit.
Munga training made a man out of me and helped me find a new side to riding! Adventure, new friends and the inspiration to try what I thought was impossible.

Now I know I can do it. In 2015, when The Munga takes place, I will be ready.

Amazing thing is: I really enjoyed the epic training and the SDS expedition, and I will do it again next spring as an invitational event. To be in the forest covered by canopy and propelled by dreams is something you have to experience to truly understand. The Munga may be why I set out on this, but it is clear that the adventure is what is driving me to new heights.

As one door closes for a time, another door opens. I am very excited to have found a new home with a great team. I’m excited to break the details of this news very soon.

In the mean time, I will look forward to the rest of this season and perhaps a more relaxing December after all.
– Jeremiah

Hit the play button for a playback of my first ever non-stop through ride of this route.

Here’s a video from Shenandoah Mountain Touring about Stokesville Douthat Stokesville, in case you’re thinking of planning your own adventure.

The Biggest Bike-Week of My Life

For me, last week was bike mega-week! First, my family hosted our fourth annual Alpine Loop Gran Fondo in our hometown of Harrisonburg, Virginia; then I rode the toughest ride of my life in my self-created “SDS1 Mini Munga;” and then I followed it all up with the 70 mile Iron Cross race in Michaux State Forest!

Alpine Loop Gran Fondo

The Alpine Loop Gran Fondo is the event I founded in my hometown on one of my favorite training routes. It benefits Prostate Cancer Awareness Project and local bike advocacy projects. We were treated to perfect autumn weather and blazing fall foliage. This year’s party was without a doubt a notch up! We had Joe Jefferson on the mic, Shenandoah Alley’s high-energy blue grass, beer from New Belgium Brewing, killer eats and even Porsche demo cars.

My fast friends were there, too. Ben King (Garmin Sharp) fresh off a week-long break drove the pace up the first KOM section, but after that the pace was mellow. Joe Dombrowski (Sky) was also in cruise mode and chatting it up. This was a nice contrast to last year’s full stick KOM’s. A couple of guys even found a football at the Franklin, West Virginia, Rest Station and started throwing passes to each other – it was hilarious.

It was reported that a small dance party broke out at the summit of the second KOM near the “inner tube toll booth,” as the Mid-Atlantic Timing guys rocked some music and got people fired up on the microphone. The 14-mile “Dark Side” dirt climb toward Reddish Knob was wicked and rocky as ever, “Almost too much,” as Jay Moglia of Raw Talent Ranch says.

It was a festive ride with hundreds of my friends. I already can’t wait until next year.

Photo by Joe Foley Photography

Night Raid on the SDS1

My not-too-well-thought-out plan commenced just two days after the ‘Fondo. I would attempt the first-ever one-shot expedition of a legendary back-country route called Stokesville-Douthat-Stokesville, a.k.a. “SDS.” In 2009, Chris Scott pioneered this rugged, 156 mile singletrack loop with 23,000 feet of climbing, and now his company, Shenandoah Mountain Touring hosts two, three and four-day expeditions on the route. My goal was to bite it all off in one sitting, and see how well I could survive the test.

My arms were still sore from loading and off-loading event supplies, and now I set them on the task of setting up my war bird with my new Radical Lights, bento box and all sorts of emergency supplies like my transponder and space blanket in case shit hit the fan.

This route is not exactly Munga-prep but a bucket-list, hardcore back-country singletrack route. The trail can be wild and overgrown in spots; most of the time on rugged technical trail. The goal here was to put my body and night riding skills to a 20-hour test and continue my search for a Munga partner.

To best achieve the night riding portion, I had to leave in the afternoon in order to maximize nighttime and tackle my first challenge at sleep deprivation. Eleven and a half hours in the dark? I was not looking forward too it! Millions of acres of George Washington National Forest’s steep mountain ridges, singletrack, dirt roads and some paved roads lay before me.

Robert May and Jessie Kelly, the only other riders to accept my SDS1 challenge, started 90 minutes ahead of me from the Stokesville Lodge. I set off with an escort from Cole Oberman for the first three hours: the chase was on!

I got into a rhythm, pushing hard to try to catch up with my riding partners before dark. I knew I could make up five minutes here and there, since navigation of the first part of the route was on my home turf. There was something thrilling about riding out the golden rays of the evening sun. The ridge-top Shenandoah Mountain Trail was aglow with costume-dressed trees along the fine ribbon of side-benched dirt. The SMT is an IMBA Epic for great reasons!

On one rock garden, I came upon Jessie and Robert. “Hello,” I shouted with a smile. I was shocked to see Kelly turn my way revealing a huge, purple, bleeding black eye and a blank expression. He was walking his bike! Uh oh. He had taken a bad header. He seemed to be relatively ok, though.

We stopped and I gave the guys a lecture that you better make wise choices out here, as it was bound to get cold at night and it can be a deadly place. Jessie was eager to push on. I gave him some Advil. Despite his resolve, we noticed his bike had lost a pivot bolt and his rear tire was rubbing the frame

We dropped the final high-speed section of the SMT carving the turns, descending into a lake of darkness. Late evening light on stained glass yellow, orange and red changing leaves became just a memory. Smoky, grey switchback turns greeted us into the land of darkness as we dropped into the tail end of our second of eight major trails.

We lucked out at the intersection with a dirt road. There was a large hunting camp. Some good ole’ boys helped put a car bolt in Jessie’s bike. Plumber’s crack and southern humor made it a memorable moment. Since Robert was having GPS issues, he decided to take the dirt roads back to Stokesville with Jessie instead of getting lost for days. I waved the guys off like a ship leaving port.

To Be Continued…

— Jeremiah

Serious Competition

One of the U.S.’s biggest mass-start mountain bike races, The Chequamegon [say “sha-wa-mu-gun”] Fat Tire Festival has taken place in the north woods of Wisconsin for 32 years. It’s been on my bucket list, so I thought I had better tick it off before The Munga! I made a whirlwind trip of it. Coming straight from Las Vegas mid-week, where I’d been for Interbike, the northern lights and serene lakeside setting in Wisconsin was a big contrast from the neon lights I’d just left behind.

The good news is Munga training is going well, this however takes away the snap required for a race like the Chequamegon 40 miler by teaching fast twitch, type 2 muscles to work more like diesel tank pistons. I scored a solid second-place in a sprint finish to mid west rouleur Brian Matter with a ride time of less than 2 hours. It was a fast race—sketchy and fun—with more than 3,000 racers and a party atmosphere.

A lot of press is coming out about some of the top teams who are entering The Munga, and it looks like some serious competition is mounting. I’m feeling like a colonial American rebel, preparing for the onslaught of the British at Boston. In other words, “Bring that shit!’

Yeah, so what… Olympic gold medalist Sir Bart Brentjins, world class road racer Joroen Boelen; five-time 24-hour Solo World Champion Jason English, and the Canadian freight train Cory Wallace will be tough; and the bike-packing ranger duo of Kurt Refsnider and Jay Petervary might put us all in the sleeper hold. But, no sweat! Right?

But the latest entrants – four-time Cape Epic winner and German tough-man Karl Platt and former world marathon champion Thomas Deitch bring another level of professionalism. Not only are they paid, full-time pros, these guys are on the powerhouse long-distance squad Team Bulls; one of the top teams on earth. Now this is getting interesting. Will The Bulls know how to handle the extreme distance and nighttime component of The Munga? Will Jay P. and Kurt Refsnider be able to handle the speed? Or will they fight over the last bag of Cheetos in the Karroo? Can Wallace and English handle the heat? Or will their million dollar dreams be too much pressure? Brentjins and Boelen will be a big question mark, as super-long is a new challenge for them.

My teammate search is coming along, and I do have some options, but they are unknown entities at the distance and level of The Munga. Perhaps I can team up with a small rhesus monkey: he can ride on my shoulders, feeding me Whoppers and cracking the whip as I churn through the night.

I wish my buddy and former partner at TransAlp and Cape Epic, Chris Eatough of 24-Hour fame, would float down to earth wearing a red cape like Super Man, in peak racing form, leg muscles glistening like tan brown anaconda’s but his current world is filled with full-time work, coaching and kids. He’d need a year of training before he can save the day.

Really though, I have a feeling “The Munga Man” is out there and the only way to find him are a few “Mini Munga’s”: tests of endurance and toughness that I’ve lined up. They are going to be huge adventures in and of themselves. The first will take place in mid-October and the next in November, and I’m really looking forward to these challenges, and the challengers.

I’ll have some very big news to announce shortly, and it could be a Munga game-changer!

Wish me luck and stay tuned!

— Jeremiah