Being based in NYC has its ups and downs. On the upside, it’s an amazingly diverse and dynamic city. On the downside, the terrain isn’t. So when our friend Bill raced a mountain bike race only a stones throw (1.5 hours) outside of the city, we had to hear about it. Here’s his full report on the Wildcat Epic 100.
Disclaimer: for logistical reasons, I was only able to participate in the second day of the Wildcat Epic 100. So, though still quite epic indeed, my Wildcat was merely a 50 mile single day event. Alas…
The day began with a chilly and misty light rain. My good friend and MTB buddy, Brian, and I drove to a parking lot near the start and prepped the bikes, ate some clif bars and made last minute adjustments. Hopping on the bikes, we rode to the start line–historic Huguenot Street in downtown New Paltz. For the uninitiated, Huguenot Street is said to be the oldest street in America, a collection of ” seven stone houses and several accompanying structures, built in the early 18th century by Huguenot settlers fleeing religious persecution in France and Belgium”. It’s smaller in scale to the surrounding town buildings, quaint and serves as a wonderful backdrop for this epic race.
On each side of the street, there were a few tents, connected by a large Wildcat Epic 100 Start/Finish banner. Further off to the right, tents other riders had erected in order to camp for the weekend. It made me think of the rains that had rolled in the night before. Brian and I signed our waivers, collected our swag and got ready to race.
The race began en masse (maybe 50+ riders?) with a neutral start out of town, following the race car parallel to the scenic Walkill River. About a mile out of town, the car sped off and the race was on! It was an immediate redline, zero to sixty, tasting-the-penny-in-the-back-of-my-throat sort of surge. The rail trail, though smooth and flat, amounts to essentially double-track. My narrow bars were inches from the rider to my right as we sped south, toward the town of Gardiner. The first selection of the day occurred here–one was either quick enough to stay with the pros at the front or forced into groups two, three and further back. Fortunately, I was in a good position at the start and was able to fight my way onto the very back of the lead group. We stretched out for about 15 riders, those in front obviously much stronger than we on the back, but all one group for this brief, shining moment.
After a few miles of racing, we came to a road crossing in the trail. We hopped onto the road, making a quick left, quick right and into the Drussel Farms apple orchards (or were they peaches?). This area was open and grassy and wet, with rain lightly falling, making the terrain below a little harder to negotiate. Easy, sharp fast turns on any other day soon become carefully measured, arching turns. The area was hilly enough to make another selection. By now, the race leaders had sped off 75 yards in front of my chase group. One by one, rides began to fall from our group as the trail rose through the fields.
The race route was marked throughout with pieces of pink ribbon tied to branches and signs and wherever else they’d fit. Second disclaimer of this report: I’m a one-eyed rider further complicated by poor vision. Spotting a 10-inch by 1-inch swath of pink ribbon dangling from a tree branch in flat light with rain on my lenses is, well, challenging. For this reason, I wheel-hopped, choosing to let other riders be my eyes through the course.
Between orchards, the course ducked into the woods for minutes at a time, finding smooth and rather dreamy single track. Nothing too challenging, save for the icy-wet exposed roots under the larger trees. Leaning a low-pressure rubber tire any which way on one of these roots almost always results in a sudden and unexpected dismount. I saw a few riders in front of me go down with sniper shot precision–one minute they’re upright and racing, the next they’re chewing on the fertile soil of Gardner, New York. Somehow, someway, I managed to pick my way through safely.
There were a few road crossings throughout this section with mandatory dismounts–roll to the road’s edge, dismount, run across and hop back on (carefully!). Then it was back on the gas, shooting into the woods at a spot, if not for the pink ribbon, which might seem better suited for a small woodland creature than for a fully grown human on a bicycle. This all goes to say the trails were tight, fast and fun. The pace was lighter in this section. The rollers kept small groups together without much trouble and a voice in the recesses of my mind warned me to save a little (or a lot) for the single track at the Larson Loop and Williams Lake.
We're still waiting for the official race photos, but this was 2010. Picture this...but a lot wetter.
Shooting out of the final orchard and back onto the road, we once again found the mouth of the rail trail, retracing our steps north back to the start line, which also served as the halfway point and aid station. The leaders were a distant memory, but there also weren’t many of them, and that encouraged us to work harder in the first chase group. Also, we’d put a nice gap on the peleton and wanted to preserve that with smart pack riding–something I found entirely unique to this MTB race and more in-line with my road racing background.
I hooked up with two other guys that would be my company for most of the day–Michael from Long Island (racing the full 100 for the weekend). Thin and lithe on the bike, Michael is a triathlon coach and rock climber… and far more skilled MTB rider than myself. The other rider was Steven of the local team, Dark Horse Racing. A muscle on a bike, Steven was the strongest rider of us three and fresh since he was a participant in the 50 mile single day course like myself. We took turns pulling down the fast and flat trail and back to the start line, the halfway point for the race, mile 25.
Steven dropped off to refuel as Michael and I went on the attack. The rail trail from Huguenot out to the Larson Loop (and Rosendale) was the same–flat, messy from the rain and very fast. We elected to work together in order to put some distance on the chase groups. This worked out quite well and we hit the Larson Loop single track with a good bit of time into them.
I’ve ridden a fair amount of trails on the east coast and have grown accustomed to the baby heads and root snares that pock the trails in this part of the country. However–still–this section of the course was really difficult. Long, sustained and technical climbs, then bombing down the backside, only to round a turn and be faced with another soul crushing uphill. Michael suffered a technical and I was forced to carry on by myself. The riding was hard and I was doing my very best to anticipate the terrain ahead, but some spots were just too tough, resulting in hike-a-bike. Many downed trees and mossy rock gardens along the way. This is not that unusual other than to say it led to a few momentary and crippling seizures in my quads and adductors.
Living up to it's name, the course was full of unique terrain and memorable "obstacles".
The woods in this part of New York are beautiful, particularly in the rain. The trees are tall and limbless on their lower halves with a high canopy, allowing for a rather unobstructed view of the course ahead. I could hear voices in the distance–chasers? leaders? The sound of my chain bouncing against the stay, the grip of the big rubber tires, along with my own blood coursing in my ears, and the heavy rise and fall of my chest–it was all very Blair Witch Project. I was most certainly putting in work, but was it too much too soon? It was around this point when Steven, my paceline partner from before, skipped past me like I’d been looking for parking. He was strong–way stronger than I could match.
Far and away the most unique obstacle on the course was “the cave”, which I believe was in the Williams Lake portion of the course. If you’re familiar with this race, which I was not, then perhaps you’ve heard about it already. Suffice it to say “the cave” is a really large, well, cave. From the gray light of day, I rode down a short embankment and into a wide open mouth like something from Lord of the Rings. Once inside, it was huge and cold, but not damp surprisingly. I heard voices–volunteers–and could make out the faint flicker of a flashlight further down–but otherwise it was scary-dark. The volunteers asked me to follow their voice and then the beam of light, heading toward the larger opening at the far end. All told, the cave might be 50 yards long, but it was a nice cool burst of air conditioning and a really amazing feature to the race.
The last obstacle of note for the day was the hike-a-bike–a section we’d been warned about, leading straight up an embankment for about 35 yards. It was steep and muddy and my arms were shaking carrying my bike on my back. Once atop the ridge, I remounted, bombed down another fast and narrow lane of single track and popped out of the woods in “downtown” Rosendale. I was heading back for the rail trail entrance with a bit of a lead (as far as I could hear), but without the leaders in sight.
As I climbed up the road and around the church, to the mouth of the trail, the volunteer told me I was 7th overall, but he didn’t know how many single day 50 milers were ahead (other than Steven). I hit the trail and stomped on the pedals as much as I could muster. Admittedly, my legs were shot and I found myself stuck between two gears–the one I wanted to push and the one I was able to push. It was frustrating, but I employed a strategy of spinning up in the lower gear, clicking into the heavier gear and holding it for as long as I could–a minute tops. Wash, rinse, repeat. I did this all the way down the trail–about 5 miles (?)–until I caught a glimpse of daylight through the woods. I was nearing Huguenot Street once again and the finish line.
Jumping off the rail trail and with one final look over my shoulder to make sure I was not going to be caught, I made a right and then a left into the finisher’s chute, zipped up my TriLife jersey and rode comfortably exhausted over the finish line. I was spent and this race had been so much fun, but I was glad to be finished.
Circling back, the finish line was littered with supporters and race organizers and a healthy selection of kids, dogs and foods–bananas, bars, juices, apples. In fact, right about the time when I crossed the line, I could smell the grill kicking on–hamburgers were in the works and I heard tell of beer on tap (though, that was the furthest thing from my mind as I choked down my fifth banana to ward off the muscle cramping). the experience is far more jovial and communal than your average road race or triathlon. It reminded me of adventure racing days of yore, with teammates Brian and his wife Alainya.
Riders gathered round to swap stories of the worst (and best) parts of the day. Everyone was so very nice and supportive as other riders finished their races. I chatted quickly with Steven, who bested me on the day by ten minutes or more, and Michael, who’d come in about ten minutes after me, a bit shattered from his 100 mile effort. Both were super nice guys and great riders. Brian, nursing a sore shoulder from an earlier crash–one of about a hundred I’d seen on the day–recounted his day and experiences, all similarly delightful as mine. We packed up our things and rode (gingerly) down to the car.
Course: A Despite the large sections of rail trail (which weren’t all together un-fun anyway), the single track at Williams Lake was unparalleled for this area. The rolling hills in the orchards made for really great views of a landscape I’d seen many times, but never from this perspective. And did I mention the cave? Yeah… there’s a really cool cave.
Organization: B- As with most grass roots races, the organization was a bit loose (still waiting for the race pics to surface from the official race photographers). However, everyone was very nice and as helpful as they could be. There’s a rumor that the Wildcat will be an official Leadville qualifier next year, so I have a feeling things are about to get a whole lot bigger.
Atmosphere: B+ Again, a smaller race than most I’ve done in the past, but still with a great vibe between competitors. The supporters, of which there weren’t too many, cheered loudly and took care of the athletes throughout the course of the day. And then there was the barbecue. What’s a great race without a barbecue?
Logistics: A Very easy to get to New Paltz from Manhattan–about an hour and a half away. The start line provided a lot of parking and a decent amount of nutritional aid to get started. Post-race, we rolled down the quarter mile to the parking lot on our bikes, loaded up and were out of the area within 15 minutes.
Overall: B+ Great small event while it’s still small. We’ve already decided that we’ll be back next year… for the full and decidedly Epic 100.
-Bill
