The birth of the Fondito

A couple hours after one of the prior Winthrop Fondos as our spent bodies were all piled up in the cabin, some on the couch, some on the floor but all as lifeless as piles of dirty laundry, I recall Whiplash (henceforth and forever to be known as “Cramps”) commenting to no one in particular that if someone offered up a Fondito (little Fondo) that was four hours instead of seven to ten, that might be a really great idea.

The silence that followed indicated either exhaustion or serious contemplation, or both.

I like cheesecake.  That doesn’t mean I have to eat a whole cheesecake just to prove it.  I can take plenty of enjoyment from a single slice. I enjoy a long gravel ride that gets me far from the pavement.  I can completely fill up my gravel fun quota in four or five hours. I also enjoy a shorter rides as well. After six hours the fun is all type two fun; the value of which has begun to diminish in my book.

Early suffering in the 2016 Winthrop Fondo

With fires, and smoke threatening the Winthrop Fondo in the weeks leading up to the event our collective motivation to keep on training hard had withered. It was a full three months since we had our Gravel Camp in the Methow. Since that week of big rides in June my fitness, and that of many of my brethren, had faded. There was also a bit of “been there, done that,” with the Winthrop Fondo. 

One week ago this was the smoke situation....

As the smoke cleared and the weather looked promising a few of us opted to come and ride the Black Pine Lake loop which had been a highlight of the aforementioned Gravel Camp. Another friend was riding the Fondo and he came for dinner Friday.  After dinner I wished him well and told him to have fun, but in my heart I sensed that we would be having very different flavors of fun the next day.

At 7:59AM the next morning I imagined my friend was shivering down at the Red Barn getting final instructions before the neutral start of the Fondo.  It was below 40 degrees F and we raised our coffee cups in the warmth of the cabin and toasted the courage of those about to climb to seven thousand feet above sea level. We were so glad to not be with them.

I confess that after a lifetime of questionable decisions, I felt absolutely brilliant.

When the sun had warmed the forest and we had digested our breakfast we suited up and rolled out at a congenial pace.  We climbed up the Winthrop trail passing bear scat, snakes and grouse. 

Snake.......

We savored the views across the valley.  We ripped the single track along Patterson Lake and flew down the unusually smooth gravel of Elbow Coulee.

Golden Trails

Soon we were climbing up the Poorman drainage. The air was crisp, but not cold. The views opened up behind us and when we topped out at Black Pine Lake we were all smiles.  

We put on layers for the descent and bombed down Buttermilk canyon.  

When we hit the Twisp River road we could peel down again and then we decided to go up Thompson Ridge just because we could. 

Life made better through chemistry

The fun wasn’t over and after reaching the top we descended on double track and single track.  We chose a route such that we could reverse our path and get another helping of Patterson Lake single track.  

We scoffed at the prospect of riding on pavement and made it back to the cabin connecting trail after trail and crossing, rather than riding, pavement.

In the end we had four and a half hours of awesome riding and enough climbing to make a mark without causing permanent damage.  El Chefe’ cooked up a gourmet dinner fit for a king, but because no real kings showed up, we dubbed ourselves Gravel Kings and ate it. 

Sunday morning we were slow and stiff but not decimated.  After coffee and eggs we enjoyed a mellow recovery ride.  The sun warmed us and the ride got the blood flowing in our tired legs. This weekend was the perfect farewell to summer.