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.
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