There and Back Again - Part 01: My BC Epic1000 Yoyo Experience.
One week before the start of my ride.
“What have I done?!” This question has echoed in my head since I publicly announced that I was going to YoYo the 2021 BC Epic 1000. I didn’t really want to tell anyone. I did tell a select few though, as I wanted some of my podcast supporters to know. After speaking with Scott Morris of Trackleaders last week, and after chatting about how a yoyo is tracked, he changed my dot to ITT / YoYo and now it was out there.
Why didn’t I want to tell anyone? I'll tell you why. Lack of confidence. Fear of failure. Shrugging away accountability. Those weren’t the initial reasons but this is what was distilled down the longer I lingered on the idea. I mean, I’m not going to be breaking any records or anything. I was hoping to do it in a week. I was confident in that but it’s not the way it went. I finished in 10 days and 9 hours, which felt much slower than I was anticipating. The journey however, was one I wanted to remember. I turned 50 on the trail and at the risk of sounding vain, I wanted to go in with a bang.
I was really hoping that this was the year that I would “ride the divide” but Covid-19 took care of those plans and in retrospect, I’m glad it had. A yoyo would be something of a stepping stone to the TD. A test of riding something longer than I’m used to. Something that is just a little shy of half the distance of the TD.
I also started to think about how this would be a great opportunity to, not only promote myself and the podcast, but to also rock a Masaka Cycling Club jersey and raise a little money for the club. I reached out to Ross Burrage and asked for his help in making something happen. 3 days later, I have already raised almost $200 for the club. Every dollar counts, especially in one of the poorest regions in the world. I’m hoping to raise $1 per km so hopefully just over $2,000. Fingers crossed. Hint we raised almost $2,200!
Months before, I reached out to Dale Marchand of RollingDale Cycles to commission a build of a new titanium bikepacking rig. Something built for me. A fully rigid bike that will be compliant and comfortable, built around my body’s specifications, with a big triangle for lots of storage. During the time the bike was being fabricated, I reached out to Doug Dunlop (@coldbike) to build me a custom, roll top frame bag for the bike. I also had the privilege of taking possession of the IDC K-Lite Revolution wheelset, including a Shutter Precision PD-8X Dynamo which I paired with the K-Lite MTB Ultra dyno light. One of my favourite pieces of equipment are Ryan Correy’s aero bars which were gifted to my by Sarah Hornby. When I’m tucked into them, I often think about all the dust, sweat and tears that have rained down upon them and all the many thousands of kilometres they have seen. It’s such an honour to have them and I’m forever grateful to be able use them.
It all came together in the last couple of weeks and now I sit here and write. It’s 11:30pm on a Friday and in one week from now, I will begin my ride. My bike, TiMBR, sits behind me. She might have 200km on her, if that. She’s pretty much already fully loaded and ready to rock, I just need to get food and some other sundry items. Considering I’m about to take her over 2,000km, she is packed pretty light. Probably my lightest rig to date. What little time I have spent on her, I can already tell that she is will be an excellent tool for the job.
June 23, 2021
My family drove me out to Fernie, British Columbia, where I would be starting my yoyo. My mind raced as I mentally packed and unpacked my rig, taking close inventory of the things I have packed and reconciling that I haven’t forgotten anything. It poured rain with thunder and lightening as we approached the small mountain town. As I watched the sheets of rain drape over the minivan I couldn’t help but think “What the fuck am I doing?!” I stopped and observed the thought. Ah yes, the mental games have begun…
As they dropped me off at the hotel, I became a little emotional, which would be no surprise to listeners of my podcast. My son tends to worry about me going out on these journeys, a reflection of his personality. A worrier, just like his Dad. My daughter seemed to not be bothered by my future absence. Likely, she’d be feeling envy as she loves riding her bike. Again, just like her Dad. The apples don’t fall far from the tree.
A big struggle for me is accepting that my wife is truly okay with this. I believe that she is but that doesn’t stop me from carrying a ton of guilt on the trail. I don’t think she worries about me at all. I have accumulated quite a bit of experience in the last handful of years participating in these events. Parenting is hard. Harder than any endurance race and I fully acknowledge the sacrifice she is making for me while I trudge through the woods, counting down the kilometres until the next resupply. Acceptance is something that I have been trying to work on. perhaps navigating these discussions with our partners could be considered one of the peripheral personal growth challenges of participating in multi day events. All I can say to my wife is, thank you.
By the time my family left, it was late afternoon and time to eat. I strolled next door to the Bridge Bistro and had steak and fries and a tall cold glass of water. Now, some would wonder why I didn’t pair the meal with a celebratory beer. Something people should be aware of is that alcohol, even one beer, can negatively affect your physiology for days. I don’t drink beer before or during an event anymore, I learned that the hard way. In fact, I really don’t drink and prefer devil’s lettuce over booze any day of the week and believe me, I had my fair share of cannabis on the rig. A performance enhancer if there ever was one! Ask Ross Rebagliati. He got his medal back, I might add.
Well fed, I retired back to my room. I had grabbed some snacks earlier and settled in to “2001: A Space Odyssey”, one of my favourite movies, which just happened to be on the hotel’s cable line up. I went through the bike again and laid my kit out for the next day. Once satisfied, I was able to sleep pretty well.
June 24th, 2021
For reference, I’ll refer to some basic Whoop data. Those of you on the platform may appreciate this data.
Recovery, 88%
Heart Rate Variability 54
Resting Heart Rate 51
Respiratory Rate 13.4rpm
Sleep 5.56hr
End of day Strain 20.7
I awoke the next day at 4am, as I had planned to leave at 5am sharp. Outside, the sky rumbled as a storm had just passed through and as I peeked through the blinds and could see the morning sky through ominous dark clouds. I’m not bothered much by the rain. Besides, the RV was packed with all the shit I was going to need, anyway. I had said this before in a podcast. “I don’t feel as though I have ever been really challenged by the weather in an event.”
Shouldda kept my mouth shut…
Leaving the key in the hotel room and shutting the door was like the sound of the clapperboard at the beginning of a movie. It’s go time. The stage is set. You’ve rehearsed, memorized your lines, props are in place;
You’re officially homeless. Take a deep breath and smile. This is going to be, Epic.
I wouldn’t say the feeling is fear. It’s more of an anxiousness. It’s the feeling of your sympathetic nervous system getting ready for the stress you’re about to put on your body. Knowing this, I try to embrace the feeling and use it as a tool. You become more focused and alert. I rolled up to the steps of City Hall and maneuvered myself in some way so as to get a start photo, which was awkward on a few levels. One of the inconveniences of riding an individual time trial, I guess. After taking a moment of silence for our fallen comrade, Ryan Correy, I began my ride, leaving Fernie behind and setting my sights on Merritt, the half way point of what would become an over 2200km ride exploring British Columbia in a way most people don’t get to see it.
I’m feeling good as I roll along the paved section that will eventually take me around Mt Broadwood, then back up out of the valley to Elko. As soon as I started riding, it started raining… hard. And did so for about the first 35km. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this would be the last rain I’d see for the next 2,170km. Once off the muddy roads, the spin through the valley was lovely. It was so green and fresh after the rain. Soon, the trail kicked up on a vague double track. Some of it smooth, some chunder, some littered with baby heads and short punchy climbs. The long descent followed by 30km of climbing was a nice way to warm up for the day.
Later, I stopped in Wardner to eat and deal with my wet rain gear. By now it was warm and sunny, so I took advantage of some sun to quickly get things dry. I don’t think I wore any of my rain gear again for the rest of the trip. The first 100km leading into the Mayook singletrack section was pretty uneventful. I honestly wasn’t looking forward to this as I had done this section a number of times in other events and It seems that whenever I ride through there, I’m tapped out and I find it unenjoyable. This time around it wasn’t too bad and I was through it in short order.
By now, my body started to complain a little. I find it can take a couple of days to really settle into things, which is something to consider when, after the first day, you’re questioning your abilities. Sleep and see what you feel like the next day. You might be surprised. I did take a break to lay down and stretch out my spine. Since this is the first real ride I have taken on this bike, I was still getting used to her. She’s considerably longer than my previous rigs, like 120mm longer! The fit of this bike turned out to be just perfect for a ride like this. Like a stretch limo; cruisey and comfortable.
I stopped at the Info Centre in Cranbrook before making my way up the North Star trail toward Marysville. By now it was getting much warmer. I remember there being a hose here and took full advantage of it. I grabbed a shower and hosed TiMBR down, washing away the first 140km of grime that accumulated due to the rain and muddy roads. She looked marvelous!
By now I was starting to question my nutrition. I brought some dehydrated meat, some cheese, a bit of candy and honey. I really wanted to go as whole foods as possible but in the end, I found the food I had brought unpalatable. The M&M Peanuts were fine as was the honey but I ended up tossing the rest of it in Nelson. For those of you on the Gu Shot thing, try honey. You can buy a couple hundred ml of it, and it’s easy access. Just pop the top and squeeze a bit on your tongue. Maple syrup too!
I tried to make my stops efficient today as I really wanted to catch the Kootenay Bay Ferry. Missing it would mean I would have to wait up to 7 hours for the first ferry in the morning. My plan was to not stop for resupply until Nelson, but I did stop quickly at a gas station in Marysville and had some chocolate and a cold coffee drink. I had brought enough food for, what turned out to be a 315km day; The furthest I have ever ridden in 24 hours and one of my main day one goals.
The climb up St. Mary Lake Road was uneventful. Having ridden the Epic before it was nice to ride this section in the other direction which is way easier than east bound in my opinion. It was getting late in the day and I had been getting after it pretty hard. At the 225km mark, things start to kick up, signaling the last push to the summit of Grey Creek Pass. I was starting to slow down and would alternate between walking and climbing to try to stay awake. The sleep monster started making his presence known by this point. The one thing that becomes very apparent, especially when you spend all day outdoors moving across the land, was how the body naturally becomes in synch with the rhythms of the little blue marble which we call home. The rising and setting sun triggers us like it has for millennia, signaling our deeply engrained sleep wake cycles. I dismounted and leaned over TiMBR.
“Please, sleep monster. Just a couple more hours.”
I popped a 1/2 of a caffeinated Nuun tab to give me a little boost for the next 10km of climbing till the summit. The time flew and I started to see the familiar, snow patched slopes indicating that the climb was over. I wouldn’t say I was at a low point, but finishing this leg was a huge boost and I happily cruised down the other side, making my way to Grey Creek store. The hours it took to climb to the pass were quickly undone in minutes. I had purposely not looked at the time for a couple of hours as I didn’t want to know how far I was behind, if I was behind at all. I rolled into the store parking lot and checked the time. What?! It was around half past nine and I was going to make the 10:20pm ferry after all! I couldn’t believe it, honestly. Even with the advantage of the time zone change, I still didn’t think I was going to make the ferry terminal! Stoked was an understatement.
Waiting at the terminal, I chatted with Trevor, a Local guy who wanted to know what I was up to. I asked if he thought sleeping at Lakeside Park in Nelson was safe. “No one should bother you.” he said. I figured I’d check it out when I got there. Trevor offered me his yard to sleep in for the night. As generous as that offer was, I needed to keep moving. We chatted for a few minutes before parting ways. In retrospect, sleeping in his yard would have been the right decision. I found some water at the not so clean public washrooms at the terminal, topped up my bottles and began to ride the pavement to Nelson. A lovely spin to wind down the day.
By this time, I had become very tired. I slowly rolled into Nelson, stopping before crossing the bridge to see about maybe getting a room. Nothing was open, so I made my way across the bridge and over to Lakeside Park. As I rolled down into the park, I could hear that there was something going on down there. My spidey-senses kicked in and I decided that the park wouldn’t be the best place to hang out after all. I surveyed the area and noticed the RCMP station. It would have been hard not to notice the precinct as the parking lot was lit up like a football stadium.
I approached the front door of the station and gave it a pull in hopes that I might be hosted to a comfortable office floor or even an empty cell. No such luck… Scanning the area some more as I rolled around the lot, I found some precious shade from the stadium lighting behind a couple of dumpsters. It was private-ish and flat-ish and comfortable-ish enough to call it home for the night. I changed into some jammies and rolled the kit out and managed to get some sleep. I only hope I don’t get mauled by raccoons in the middle of the night.
…to be continued
