Pre-race game faces.
The 2017 USARA National Championship was Strong Machine’s fourth consecutive nationals, but provided a completely new experience, as for the first time, Kate would not be racing with us (due to parental obligations) and we would be racing for the first time as an all-male team. We were lucky enough that Evan Moreshead of Chaos Raid was willing to race with us – and in the process, try out his first adventure race more than 12 hours in length. We were also fortunate that nationals was in the Poconos this year, about a six-hour drive away from Portland, because we probably wouldn’t have been able to attend the race this year if it were any further away.
Kate, Cliff and Wilder began their drive down to Pennsylvania on Wednesday evening, and met Starker and former teammate (and current son/brother) Luke in New York City for a fun night of Italian food and baby-centered entertainment. Thursday morning, we were even able to sleep in a little and grab a decent breakfast before hitting the road, arriving in Lake Harmony – race HQ – by around 2 p.m.
Now that we’ve raced in pretty much every corner of the country and have gotten to know a good portion of the AR community, nationals feels like a family reunion, except the attendees are a lot fitter than most of our family members. Check-in at the hotel was painfully slow, so we took the opportunity to hang out with our growing cadre of AR friends. Eventually, we forced ourselves to peel off, got settled in our musty room, and went to the conference room to do our team registration.
For Starker and Cliff, the registration process was old hat, but Evan was wide-eyed as he got all his race swag and information on how the weekend would run. It was fun to see his excitement and nervousness, a formerly familiar feeling at races which has started to dissipate as we have gained experience. It made Starker feel like a veteran and made Cliff feel nervous about being the navigator and having the responsibility of making Evan’s first overnight and first national-level race a positive experience.
As we prepped equipment for a run down to the bike drop, the team discussed expectations and strategy. Given all the extenuating factors surrounding the team, we agreed the primary goal was to have a fun time. Individual goals were also stated out-loud: for Evan, racing through the night; for Cliff, navigating the team successfully; and for Starker, taking on the role of mother hen normally played by Cliff.
As we got back from the bike drop, Starker and Evan went to pick up pizzas, while Cliff headed to catch the beginning of the racer briefing. With three previous USARA briefings under our belt, we were tempted to skip the first part of the briefing, which is always a bit redundant, but not wanting to miss any potentially useful information, Cliff got there on time. Soon after, the rest of the team (and dinner) arrived, and we chowed down in the corner while learning that the race would be divided into three sections – a paddle, then a bike, then a long foot section. The post-briefing Q&A, as usual, was frustrating, as teams tried to collect as much information as possible and Troy and the RDs (Bill and Ann Gibbons from GOALS) played coy and tried not to divulge anything significant.
At 9 p.m., we got back to our dank cave of a room and finished packing. By 10:30, we were all in bed and we thought we’d get a good night’s sleep, but two-month-old Wilder had other plans for the evening. Lots of wailing combined with pre-race nerves to make it a pretty sleepless night, and everyone seemed relieved when the alarms went off at 4 a.m. and we could stop the stressing and start the racing.
We were one of the first teams down to the conference room for map distribution, and were able to snag a prime spot at the registration table to do our UTM plotting. As the course revealed itself, we saw what looked like a reasonable canoe section to start the race, a pretty huge bike section, and what looked like an enormous foot section, followed by a 1.5-hour bike to the finish. With the boarding of buses to the start at 7:30 a.m., it felt like we had an unusually healthy amount of time to prep our maps, use the bathroom, and finalize our gear choices.
On the bus ride over, we had the good fortune of sitting next to Rib Mountain Racing, our friends from our early racing days in Wisconsin. We shared some thoughts on the course and the maps, and heard a little from Anna about her experience at the Adventure Race World Championships in Wyoming. After one false start at the wrong state park, we arrived at the starting area to see a line of canoes and a calm lake. We had about 10 minutes to get our boat ready and then lined up for the start. The tension mounted as the audio system failed to play the national anthem. A few quiet moments later, racers to our left (Abby P. and Mark L.?) broke out in an a cappella version. Then there was the countdown, and the always-startling cannon blast signifying our 30-hour adventure had begun.
Kate, Cliff and Wilder began their drive down to Pennsylvania on Wednesday evening, and met Starker and former teammate (and current son/brother) Luke in New York City for a fun night of Italian food and baby-centered entertainment. Thursday morning, we were even able to sleep in a little and grab a decent breakfast before hitting the road, arriving in Lake Harmony – race HQ – by around 2 p.m.
Now that we’ve raced in pretty much every corner of the country and have gotten to know a good portion of the AR community, nationals feels like a family reunion, except the attendees are a lot fitter than most of our family members. Check-in at the hotel was painfully slow, so we took the opportunity to hang out with our growing cadre of AR friends. Eventually, we forced ourselves to peel off, got settled in our musty room, and went to the conference room to do our team registration.
For Starker and Cliff, the registration process was old hat, but Evan was wide-eyed as he got all his race swag and information on how the weekend would run. It was fun to see his excitement and nervousness, a formerly familiar feeling at races which has started to dissipate as we have gained experience. It made Starker feel like a veteran and made Cliff feel nervous about being the navigator and having the responsibility of making Evan’s first overnight and first national-level race a positive experience.
As we prepped equipment for a run down to the bike drop, the team discussed expectations and strategy. Given all the extenuating factors surrounding the team, we agreed the primary goal was to have a fun time. Individual goals were also stated out-loud: for Evan, racing through the night; for Cliff, navigating the team successfully; and for Starker, taking on the role of mother hen normally played by Cliff.
As we got back from the bike drop, Starker and Evan went to pick up pizzas, while Cliff headed to catch the beginning of the racer briefing. With three previous USARA briefings under our belt, we were tempted to skip the first part of the briefing, which is always a bit redundant, but not wanting to miss any potentially useful information, Cliff got there on time. Soon after, the rest of the team (and dinner) arrived, and we chowed down in the corner while learning that the race would be divided into three sections – a paddle, then a bike, then a long foot section. The post-briefing Q&A, as usual, was frustrating, as teams tried to collect as much information as possible and Troy and the RDs (Bill and Ann Gibbons from GOALS) played coy and tried not to divulge anything significant.
At 9 p.m., we got back to our dank cave of a room and finished packing. By 10:30, we were all in bed and we thought we’d get a good night’s sleep, but two-month-old Wilder had other plans for the evening. Lots of wailing combined with pre-race nerves to make it a pretty sleepless night, and everyone seemed relieved when the alarms went off at 4 a.m. and we could stop the stressing and start the racing.
We were one of the first teams down to the conference room for map distribution, and were able to snag a prime spot at the registration table to do our UTM plotting. As the course revealed itself, we saw what looked like a reasonable canoe section to start the race, a pretty huge bike section, and what looked like an enormous foot section, followed by a 1.5-hour bike to the finish. With the boarding of buses to the start at 7:30 a.m., it felt like we had an unusually healthy amount of time to prep our maps, use the bathroom, and finalize our gear choices.
On the bus ride over, we had the good fortune of sitting next to Rib Mountain Racing, our friends from our early racing days in Wisconsin. We shared some thoughts on the course and the maps, and heard a little from Anna about her experience at the Adventure Race World Championships in Wyoming. After one false start at the wrong state park, we arrived at the starting area to see a line of canoes and a calm lake. We had about 10 minutes to get our boat ready and then lined up for the start. The tension mounted as the audio system failed to play the national anthem. A few quiet moments later, racers to our left (Abby P. and Mark L.?) broke out in an a cappella version. Then there was the countdown, and the always-startling cannon blast signifying our 30-hour adventure had begun.
The opening paddle section.
We hustled downhill to the canoe and raced to get it in the water. We were in the top third of the pack when we splashed into the boat, but things quickly went sideways (literally) as we struggled to paddle efficiently or effectively. Usually, Cliff sits in the back of the boat and steers, but with Cliff’s still-broken collarbone and need to navigate, this time, he sat in the center, with Evan motoring up front and Starker steering in back. But on the way to CP 1, it was clear we had not chosen well, as we turned the paddle into demolition derby, steering in circles and veering directly into other boats. By the time we reached the far shore and the CP, about a mile away, we were near the back of the pack – which was probably safer for all concerned, as we then had fewer obstacles to hit.
Now at one corner of the lake, we turned east and followed the fleet of 60+ boats along the shore, picking up CPs along a four-mile stretch of lakeshore, using a few out-and-backs for CPs to say hello to our many friends in the race. On this slog of a paddle, we realized that despite the big effort we were putting in, we were falling behind the bulk of the other teams. Evan and Cliff chalked this up to bad weight distribution, but Starker was convinced we had gotten a defective canoe.
As we got to the far end of the lake, we noticed a few teams out of their boats on the northern shore. At first we thought they might have capsized, and then we saw them pulling their canoes up the side of a hill and realized they were portaging to the next CP. We decided not to do that ourselves, and instead paddled around to the CP, which turned out to be a TA, where we received two maps of a nine-point O-course.
Now at one corner of the lake, we turned east and followed the fleet of 60+ boats along the shore, picking up CPs along a four-mile stretch of lakeshore, using a few out-and-backs for CPs to say hello to our many friends in the race. On this slog of a paddle, we realized that despite the big effort we were putting in, we were falling behind the bulk of the other teams. Evan and Cliff chalked this up to bad weight distribution, but Starker was convinced we had gotten a defective canoe.
As we got to the far end of the lake, we noticed a few teams out of their boats on the northern shore. At first we thought they might have capsized, and then we saw them pulling their canoes up the side of a hill and realized they were portaging to the next CP. We decided not to do that ourselves, and instead paddled around to the CP, which turned out to be a TA, where we received two maps of a nine-point O-course.
The creative mini-O course in the middle of the paddle section. We handled this poorly and it cost us.
We were permitted to split up for this section, and after hitting A5 and A9 as a team, we sent Starker back to the boat, Evan on a longer but on-trail romp south to A6, and Cliff on a mission to nab three points to the west. Cliff got back to the canoe after about 20 minutes, met up with Starker and headed south to A8, A4 and the meeting spot at A7, where Evan was supposed to be waiting. But he wasn’t there. Cliff and Starker hung out for a bit (even found time for a refreshing dip in the lake), then getting a bit anxious, headed up the trail to see if they could find Evan. A kind three-person female team who were headed up the trail in Evan’s direction found him and directed him south, and Cliff ran into him about a half-mile up away from the canoe. Following Cliff’s hasty and non-accurate directions, Evan had gotten lost by following the clearing (and portage route) instead of the trail.
We knew splitting up might cause us trouble, and this was it. We ate the time lost and motivated to win it back somehow. Starker had the boat pointed towards the lake as the guys jumped aboard, and the team headed back west toward the takeout, picking up one more CP along the way. Knowing we were far behind the majority of the field by this point, we decided to skip the final canoe point (and about 1.5 miles of paddling) and head straight to the TA.
We knew splitting up might cause us trouble, and this was it. We ate the time lost and motivated to win it back somehow. Starker had the boat pointed towards the lake as the guys jumped aboard, and the team headed back west toward the takeout, picking up one more CP along the way. Knowing we were far behind the majority of the field by this point, we decided to skip the final canoe point (and about 1.5 miles of paddling) and head straight to the TA.
Photographic evidence that we were not dead last on the paddle.
Kate and Wilder were waiting for the team as they got off the water, and we spent a couple of minutes hanging out with our erstwhile teammate while we refilled water. We then speed-walked a short mile uphill to the field where we had left our bikes the night before. Out of a total of 180+ bikes, there were about 12 bikes left in the field when we got there, but we didn’t panic or get discouraged – aided by our indifferent attitude toward our result and our experience in other races where we’ve found ourselves at the back and still done well overall.
First part of the biking, with river crossing where the highlighting ends.
We rolled out after a relatively brief transition and headed down a paved road for a bit, before coming into a town and finding a rail trail, identified by a CP flag. Then we had three miles of fun cinder paths until we arrived at what we knew would be a river crossing. We arrived at the TA at the same time as two other teams who had taken a wrong turn and then turned around. Not wanting to get stuck behind them, we quickly punched the CP, listened to the directions (head upstream for about 100 meters and then cross the river in the section marked with caution tape). We headed into the ankle- to knee-deep water and found the going slow, with the stones underfoot very mossy and slippery. After about five minutes, we reached the caution tape and prepared to cross the river, which, by watching a three-person female team in front of us, we saw was about waist- to belly button-deep.
Preparing to get our nipples wet.
The water felt good and we had fun crossing, until halfway across, when we heard a yell from the riverbank we had just left. Apparently, a racer just behind us had some kind of emergency situation. We continued across the river and dropped our bikes, then asked the volunteer there if we should go back and assist, but were told there was help on scene and that we should just hang tight, so we waited for around 10 minutes, wondering what was going on behind us (we couldn’t see around the riverbank). Finally, we were told to move on, so we walked up the hill into a parking lot and then crossed the street into the main square of the town of Jim Thorpe.
The bike-o that we skipped.
This was the start of the bike-o section, but being so far behind, we made the decision to skip five CPs (11-15) that would have brought us in the wrong direction. Instead, we headed up the steepest hill out of town to the north. We wound our way up the short, steep hill and saw Journey Racing screaming down it. Rootstock followed about five minutes later. We gave a big cheer to Jim, Abby and Brian and then followed their tracks up the 700 or so vertical feet to CP 16 at the top of a hill, which had a fantastic (for Pennsylvania) view from the top. On the way down, we saw Emily and the gang from WEDALI and exchanged quick pleasantries, and then flubbed around looking for CP 17 for a bit before backtracking and finding it semi-hidden in a park, revealing the trail we needed.
Smiles because there's no more climbing (for the moment).
At CP 17, we ran into a team that had been with the racer who had been in trouble, and they said they and a doctor from the racer’s team had given CPR for about 30 minutes. They said he was unresponsive by the time the ambulance arrived. We thanked them for helping out a fellow racer and then they turned up the hill we had just come down, and we headed down the inviting singletrack in front of us.
The trail started out innocently enough, mostly flat with an easily avoided rock or two strewn about. About 15 minutes in, we ran into three teams coming back up the trail at us. It was near where CP 18 should have been, but the trail clearly went down to the road, which it shouldn’t have done. The teams ahead of us told us they had been searching for 15 minutes for the CP and had gone all the way down to the road. Our friend Jeff Sona came riding onto the scene with Team Kuat and we appraised them of the situation. They started heading down the trail to the road, but then Rodney, Amy and Pete from NYARA Masters came along and started searching above where we were for any other trail that might be around. They found a faint path, and we followed it until it became more obviously a trail. With the knowledge that the more main-looking trail petered out at the road, we stuck with NYARA, chatting for a bit in between breaths as we tried to keep up.
NYARA eventually pulled away, and we found ourselves in an eerily quiet pocket of solitude. The trail we not exceptionally rideable in this section and so we ended up pushing our bikes a lot. There were a couple of other divides in the trail that weren’t on the map, but we always stuck to the middle route, trying not to gain or lose too much altitude, and it worked out, as we got to the end of the trail and CP 19 after a long but successful section.
The trail started out innocently enough, mostly flat with an easily avoided rock or two strewn about. About 15 minutes in, we ran into three teams coming back up the trail at us. It was near where CP 18 should have been, but the trail clearly went down to the road, which it shouldn’t have done. The teams ahead of us told us they had been searching for 15 minutes for the CP and had gone all the way down to the road. Our friend Jeff Sona came riding onto the scene with Team Kuat and we appraised them of the situation. They started heading down the trail to the road, but then Rodney, Amy and Pete from NYARA Masters came along and started searching above where we were for any other trail that might be around. They found a faint path, and we followed it until it became more obviously a trail. With the knowledge that the more main-looking trail petered out at the road, we stuck with NYARA, chatting for a bit in between breaths as we tried to keep up.
NYARA eventually pulled away, and we found ourselves in an eerily quiet pocket of solitude. The trail we not exceptionally rideable in this section and so we ended up pushing our bikes a lot. There were a couple of other divides in the trail that weren’t on the map, but we always stuck to the middle route, trying not to gain or lose too much altitude, and it worked out, as we got to the end of the trail and CP 19 after a long but successful section.
Into the darkness of a night bike...
A volunteer was waiting there, and he directed us to a spigot where we filled up on water. We asked him if he had any update on the health of the racer from the river, but he didn’t know about it. After refilling water, we rolled down a paved path to do a short section of road that would lead back uphill and onto trail, but on our way, we spotted a gas station and made a detour for ice cream sandwiches and cold Gatorade. We scarfed them down in the parking lot; after a long, hot ride/bike push, they didn’t last long.
If ARs were scored based on how many cold sodas and ice creams are consumed while on course, we would win a lot more races.
We got back on our bikes and met up with Untamed’s masters team, and then Shane Hagerman and MainNerve caught up and we all rode up a long, steep hill together. We turned off the road and onto an equally steep trail, finding CP 20 on the way and getting to the top of the climb, where CP 21, the end of the King of the Mountain section, and a volunteer with more water were all waiting for us. We rolled out just as it was getting dark and ended up riding with Becca, Kevin and Glen from GOALS. We thought it wouldn’t last long, but we were surprised to find ourselves hanging steady with this very solid team. Glen and Becca had come up to Maine for MSAR and we got a nice conversation going about their experiences. We rode together along a pebbly but rideable doubletrack until we hit CP 22, followed by a steep downhill, where they got away from us.
At the bottom, we were supposed to run into a rail-trail. But we didn’t see it, and so we started riding in the right direction on actual railroad tracks. It only took us a moment to realize we riding along a live track, and that we were being dumb – that the race directors would not want us to be riding this. So Evan took a peek off the edge of the platform the tracks were on, and spotted a beautiful trail 12 or so feet below us. There was no way down – it was a rock wall – so we backtracked until we discovered an embankment covered with enough vegetation to cushion our bodies as we tumbled down the slope onto the rail-trail. Right as we got ourselves upright, Michigan Racing Addicts and then MainNerve flew past us like they were a freight train and we were standing still – we literally felt a whoosh as they whizzed by us. We jumped on our bikes and tried to grab their tails. Evan,a former junior bike racer, and avid cyclist Starker took over and started hauling down the trail. We continued until we saw enough lights ahead of us to make us think the carnival was in town. As well arrived on scene, we saw what looked like at least 10 teams searching for CP 23, with the clue of "stone ruin.” No one seemed to know where it was, and everyone was trying to play coy with everyone else. But Starker spotted a team trying to make a surreptitious exit from the woods, and we followed their reverse direction for about 30 yards straight to the flag. We probably gave away its position to everyone else, as we found ourselves at the head of a conga line of bikes up a panting, Achilles-stretching bike-hike up the side of another one of those evil Pennsylvania ridges.
Finally reaching the top, the huge group of racers spread out looking for CP 24, located by a house. There were plenty of man-made structures at the top of the hill, and Shane guided about six teams right to a bear cage, which was a bit spooky. We broke off from his team and followed about four other teams backtracking to the west, where we saw several other teams returning to their bikes. We followed their path into the woods and peaked around the side of a hunting lodge. One of the weirdest of many sights we have seen in an AR was waiting for us – three camo-clad hunters and a five-pound Pomeranian sitting on a deck right next to the CP. Convinced what we were seeing was too strange to be real, and knowing that hallucinations are a very real thing in the middle of the night in adventure races, Starker decided to say hi. One of the hunters said hi back, and said in a guru-on-the-mountaintop tone in his voice, “I hope you’ve found what you’re looking for.”
At the bottom, we were supposed to run into a rail-trail. But we didn’t see it, and so we started riding in the right direction on actual railroad tracks. It only took us a moment to realize we riding along a live track, and that we were being dumb – that the race directors would not want us to be riding this. So Evan took a peek off the edge of the platform the tracks were on, and spotted a beautiful trail 12 or so feet below us. There was no way down – it was a rock wall – so we backtracked until we discovered an embankment covered with enough vegetation to cushion our bodies as we tumbled down the slope onto the rail-trail. Right as we got ourselves upright, Michigan Racing Addicts and then MainNerve flew past us like they were a freight train and we were standing still – we literally felt a whoosh as they whizzed by us. We jumped on our bikes and tried to grab their tails. Evan,a former junior bike racer, and avid cyclist Starker took over and started hauling down the trail. We continued until we saw enough lights ahead of us to make us think the carnival was in town. As well arrived on scene, we saw what looked like at least 10 teams searching for CP 23, with the clue of "stone ruin.” No one seemed to know where it was, and everyone was trying to play coy with everyone else. But Starker spotted a team trying to make a surreptitious exit from the woods, and we followed their reverse direction for about 30 yards straight to the flag. We probably gave away its position to everyone else, as we found ourselves at the head of a conga line of bikes up a panting, Achilles-stretching bike-hike up the side of another one of those evil Pennsylvania ridges.
Finally reaching the top, the huge group of racers spread out looking for CP 24, located by a house. There were plenty of man-made structures at the top of the hill, and Shane guided about six teams right to a bear cage, which was a bit spooky. We broke off from his team and followed about four other teams backtracking to the west, where we saw several other teams returning to their bikes. We followed their path into the woods and peaked around the side of a hunting lodge. One of the weirdest of many sights we have seen in an AR was waiting for us – three camo-clad hunters and a five-pound Pomeranian sitting on a deck right next to the CP. Convinced what we were seeing was too strange to be real, and knowing that hallucinations are a very real thing in the middle of the night in adventure races, Starker decided to say hi. One of the hunters said hi back, and said in a guru-on-the-mountaintop tone in his voice, “I hope you’ve found what you’re looking for.”
Night biking.
Our bizarre, Pennsyltucky-themed dream then turned nightmarish, as we were forced by an off-limit road to bushwhack uphill through a rock-strewn slope thick with green thorny bushes and huge spider webs. At first we cursed, then we yelled, then the night got totally silent, except for the frequent clanging of our bikes slamming against sharp rocks and the occasional scratch of spiky plants tearing Spandex.
After an interminable slog, we reached the trail that marked the end of the bushwhack. We turned right on the trail and continued uphill, which would otherwise have been miserable but because we now could push our bikes instead of carrying them over our shoulders, felt amazing. We reached a plateau, got a little discombobulated when we ran into a gravel pit, then got reoriented thanks to a chance run-in with Rib Mountain, who told us we were on the right trail headed into CP 25. We reached it and GOALS came in behind us. Somehow we had gotten ahead of them on the bikewhack. We continued together down a fun doubletrack for about three miles, until Glen called for a stop. He guided us nearly perfectly into CP 26, and we returned to our bikes, thanked them for the assist, and told them to keep going as we were stopping for a snack.
We hung for a few moments, giving our bodies and brains a quick rest. As we waited, several teams arrived and charged into the woods. Cliff and Starker explained to Evan how different Nationals feels than most other races…instead of feeling completely alone in the middle of the woods, Nationals feels like one big, busy party. With 60+ teams at Nationals, you’re almost always in sight of passing bright spandex in the day, or a blinding flash of bike lights at night. The crowdedness of the race takes away some of the excitement of being “out there” alone in nature, but replaces it with the equally (though much different) excitement of camaraderie and nonstop (mostly friendly) competition.
Before we got too cold and stiff, we jumped back on our saddles and headed back along the doubletrack path we had come in on. We biked back three miles, then drove straight through an intersection where a handful of teams had stopped to huddle over their maps, as we had done in the same spot about an hour prior. The next 10 minutes were among the most fun in the race, as we needed nary a pedal stroke to fly down off the hillside on a very smooth trail, eventually reaching a manned CP 27.
Returning east to the rail-trail, we rode in a paceline to CP 28, at the ruins of a canal lock. Cliff was able to find the ruins and he instinctively climbed to the top of them (since 99 percent of flags are placed in the highest, sketchiest, and most inaccessible locations possible around the clue). But there was a surprise waiting for him at the top – no CP. Catching up to us, MainNerve's Shane H. showed up and he and Cliff circled the ruins, finally finding the flag at the far end.
After an interminable slog, we reached the trail that marked the end of the bushwhack. We turned right on the trail and continued uphill, which would otherwise have been miserable but because we now could push our bikes instead of carrying them over our shoulders, felt amazing. We reached a plateau, got a little discombobulated when we ran into a gravel pit, then got reoriented thanks to a chance run-in with Rib Mountain, who told us we were on the right trail headed into CP 25. We reached it and GOALS came in behind us. Somehow we had gotten ahead of them on the bikewhack. We continued together down a fun doubletrack for about three miles, until Glen called for a stop. He guided us nearly perfectly into CP 26, and we returned to our bikes, thanked them for the assist, and told them to keep going as we were stopping for a snack.
We hung for a few moments, giving our bodies and brains a quick rest. As we waited, several teams arrived and charged into the woods. Cliff and Starker explained to Evan how different Nationals feels than most other races…instead of feeling completely alone in the middle of the woods, Nationals feels like one big, busy party. With 60+ teams at Nationals, you’re almost always in sight of passing bright spandex in the day, or a blinding flash of bike lights at night. The crowdedness of the race takes away some of the excitement of being “out there” alone in nature, but replaces it with the equally (though much different) excitement of camaraderie and nonstop (mostly friendly) competition.
Before we got too cold and stiff, we jumped back on our saddles and headed back along the doubletrack path we had come in on. We biked back three miles, then drove straight through an intersection where a handful of teams had stopped to huddle over their maps, as we had done in the same spot about an hour prior. The next 10 minutes were among the most fun in the race, as we needed nary a pedal stroke to fly down off the hillside on a very smooth trail, eventually reaching a manned CP 27.
Returning east to the rail-trail, we rode in a paceline to CP 28, at the ruins of a canal lock. Cliff was able to find the ruins and he instinctively climbed to the top of them (since 99 percent of flags are placed in the highest, sketchiest, and most inaccessible locations possible around the clue). But there was a surprise waiting for him at the top – no CP. Catching up to us, MainNerve's Shane H. showed up and he and Cliff circled the ruins, finally finding the flag at the far end.
We decided to go north and cross the river at the bridge, then take the paved roads into the TA, rather than cross at the red highlighted section.
A few more miles down the rail-trail, we reached CP 29, where we had the option of re-crossing the same river we had crossed earlier in the day. Volunteer extraordinaire Mark Montague waited at the riverbank and told us the water was about knee to waist deep, He also told us we had the option of biking around. Not wanting to get to the point where we would be too wet and cold to be able to finish, we opted to bike around. That gave us a five-mile detour – two miles on the rail trail to a bridge, then up and down some hills on a paved road that eventually would take us to the TA and the foot section.
By now, it was about 1:30 a.m., and while Evan seemed to hit his stride, pulling away from the group as his biking prowess shone through, Starker started to struggle a bit on the uphills. For the first race in many years, Cliff had declined to put a tow on his bike, and so instead he hung back to offer moral support. All Starker could talk about was how much he wanted a soda – which ironically, he never drinks except in races. Just then, still about a mile out from the TA, we biked past a park office and Starker spotted the glow of a soda machine, lighting up the night like a beacon of hope. We pulled up to the office and saw the machine only accepted $1 bills and coins. The only money we had was a $5 and a $20 bill. Evan volunteered his $5, but the machine kept spitting it out. We tried the door to the office, but it was locked. Crestfallen, we remounted and biked the remaining bit of road into the TA.
The TA was in a campground. We dropped our bikes and headed over to the manned tent, where we were given an option of two O-courses: one we had plotted pre-race, and the other a secret course designed by the Delaware Valley Orienteering Association (DVOA). We decided on the DVOA course (ominously titled the “Shades of Death” course) because we assumed (correctly) that the CPs would be closer together and we would therefore get more bang for our buck that way. We changed our socks up and had a quick snack by a nice fire some kind volunteer had built near the TA, then headed out into the night.
By now, it was about 1:30 a.m., and while Evan seemed to hit his stride, pulling away from the group as his biking prowess shone through, Starker started to struggle a bit on the uphills. For the first race in many years, Cliff had declined to put a tow on his bike, and so instead he hung back to offer moral support. All Starker could talk about was how much he wanted a soda – which ironically, he never drinks except in races. Just then, still about a mile out from the TA, we biked past a park office and Starker spotted the glow of a soda machine, lighting up the night like a beacon of hope. We pulled up to the office and saw the machine only accepted $1 bills and coins. The only money we had was a $5 and a $20 bill. Evan volunteered his $5, but the machine kept spitting it out. We tried the door to the office, but it was locked. Crestfallen, we remounted and biked the remaining bit of road into the TA.
The TA was in a campground. We dropped our bikes and headed over to the manned tent, where we were given an option of two O-courses: one we had plotted pre-race, and the other a secret course designed by the Delaware Valley Orienteering Association (DVOA). We decided on the DVOA course (ominously titled the “Shades of Death” course) because we assumed (correctly) that the CPs would be closer together and we would therefore get more bang for our buck that way. We changed our socks up and had a quick snack by a nice fire some kind volunteer had built near the TA, then headed out into the night.
Evan is not easily intimidated.
Shades of Death O-Course. Fun during the day; painful at night.
Cliff decided to approach the course in a clockwise direction, starting with CP 1, which was just off the main road that had led into the TA. We took one stab at the point and couldn’t find it, which was not the best feeling beginning a 20-point map. Quickly moving to Plan B, we continued a little ways down the road to its intersection with a trail, where we easily found CP 2. Then we backtracked and this time hit CP 1 right on. Turning around and walking back to CP 2 felt a little shameful, but it was actually a blessing in disguise, because we were able to get our pace-count perfectly aligned with the map. This was vital, as the next four points were all located on indistinct features to the north of the trail. After going into the woods a shade too early on CP 3, we then proceeded to nail the next three points, with the highlight being an 1,800-step Hail Mary, followed by 90-degree right turn and another 300-step bankshot into the woods, culminating with Starker literally tripping over CP 4 as he cleared the route ahead of Cliff. None of us could believe it – it didn’t feel possible to reduce navigation to such a simple numbers game. Surely we weren’t this good?
As it turns out, we weren’t. We got to the next points, CP 5 and 6, with no problems, but then Cliff got cocky and tried to shoot a bearing and step-count directly to CP 8. No dice. We forced our way through horrendous rhododendron thickets, occasionally getting knocked over by the force of the resistance we met. Finally, right about when we thought we would see the flag, we came out on a trail. Curious. Maybe the trail wasn’t on the map? Oh, how the night and false hope leads us into magical thinking. Stupidly, we headed back into the woods on the same bearing. But about 100 steps past where the flag should have been, Cliff called a retreat and we returned to the trail. We overrode our impulses to head back into the woods and instead tried to use logic. The map was professionally done. This trail should be on it. Which trail could it be? We followed it a ways and found an intersection – OK, now we’re in business, sort of. But we still didn't know where we were, and Cliff thought it wasn't worth it to waste time trying again for CP 8 when there were so many other points to get. Instead, we turned west and headed downhill…for a long, long time, walking into a thick, cold mist. Just when Evan and Starker were starting to get mutinous, we hit the river. We figured out that we had made a parallel error and were not on the exact trail we thought we were on. On the bright side, we were now very close to CP 11. We hiked through a field of dew-soaked grass and saw the flag hanging from a tree. A wave of relief washed over the team.
Recalibrated, we started working our way back uphill. As it started to get light out, the map began making sense. We realized with frustration that, thinking we were on a different trail, we had walked right by a couple of CPs on the way down to the river. But that just motivated us to move fast and make up time.By CP 10, everything began clicking. Full of confidence and motivated by the new daylight, we started ransacking the course, ticking off CPs with a furious precision. Evan found a couple and Starker used his eagle eyes to spot a particularly hidden flag buried in a hell-circle of rhododendron. After CP 9, we faced a choice: head back into the heart of the course to grab CP 8 and 7, which we had bypassed during our nocturnal navigational blunder, or head out and try our luck with the other O-course. We decided to leave the two CPs on the table – while tempting, the team was starting to get tired. We continued on , nailing 13, 14, 15, 16, and 17 before hitting the paved road out.
Not long after feeling chilled to the bone at the river, we found ourselves sweating as we worked our way back uphill to the TA. Then we turned a corner and saw it – the same park office and soda vending machine that had beguiled us the night before. Vengeance was ours as we got change in the now-open park office and victory never tasted sweeter, even if it was laced with aspartame. Fueled by our success and high fructose corn syrup, we grabbed three final CPs to make it an even 18 out of 20 for the Shades of Death course and jogged into the TA with a swagger and a grin.
As it turns out, we weren’t. We got to the next points, CP 5 and 6, with no problems, but then Cliff got cocky and tried to shoot a bearing and step-count directly to CP 8. No dice. We forced our way through horrendous rhododendron thickets, occasionally getting knocked over by the force of the resistance we met. Finally, right about when we thought we would see the flag, we came out on a trail. Curious. Maybe the trail wasn’t on the map? Oh, how the night and false hope leads us into magical thinking. Stupidly, we headed back into the woods on the same bearing. But about 100 steps past where the flag should have been, Cliff called a retreat and we returned to the trail. We overrode our impulses to head back into the woods and instead tried to use logic. The map was professionally done. This trail should be on it. Which trail could it be? We followed it a ways and found an intersection – OK, now we’re in business, sort of. But we still didn't know where we were, and Cliff thought it wasn't worth it to waste time trying again for CP 8 when there were so many other points to get. Instead, we turned west and headed downhill…for a long, long time, walking into a thick, cold mist. Just when Evan and Starker were starting to get mutinous, we hit the river. We figured out that we had made a parallel error and were not on the exact trail we thought we were on. On the bright side, we were now very close to CP 11. We hiked through a field of dew-soaked grass and saw the flag hanging from a tree. A wave of relief washed over the team.
Recalibrated, we started working our way back uphill. As it started to get light out, the map began making sense. We realized with frustration that, thinking we were on a different trail, we had walked right by a couple of CPs on the way down to the river. But that just motivated us to move fast and make up time.By CP 10, everything began clicking. Full of confidence and motivated by the new daylight, we started ransacking the course, ticking off CPs with a furious precision. Evan found a couple and Starker used his eagle eyes to spot a particularly hidden flag buried in a hell-circle of rhododendron. After CP 9, we faced a choice: head back into the heart of the course to grab CP 8 and 7, which we had bypassed during our nocturnal navigational blunder, or head out and try our luck with the other O-course. We decided to leave the two CPs on the table – while tempting, the team was starting to get tired. We continued on , nailing 13, 14, 15, 16, and 17 before hitting the paved road out.
Not long after feeling chilled to the bone at the river, we found ourselves sweating as we worked our way back uphill to the TA. Then we turned a corner and saw it – the same park office and soda vending machine that had beguiled us the night before. Vengeance was ours as we got change in the now-open park office and victory never tasted sweeter, even if it was laced with aspartame. Fueled by our success and high fructose corn syrup, we grabbed three final CPs to make it an even 18 out of 20 for the Shades of Death course and jogged into the TA with a swagger and a grin.
Sweet victory in round 2 of the epic battle between soda machine vs. $5 bill.
Our grins turned to laughs and shouts when we saw Rootstock running into the TA from the opposite direction. They had cleared both O-courses! No other team was in sight. Were they in first place? The excitement of the small horde of volunteers following them around with cell phones blazing off live-feed videos signified that yes, they were. Amazing! Barring disaster on the hour-long bike ride to the finish line, our great buddies from Rootstock were going to be national champions! We howled and hooted and told them to get riding and not slow down. They rode off in a hurry, and boosted by their energy, we headed into the TA and confidently stated we were heading out on the next O-course.
The large foot-O section we mostly didn't do.
Just a minute down the road, in a team poll, Evan and Starker let Cliff know they were cooked and voted to get one point (out of 13 possible) and turn back. There was one CP very close by, so we headed for it. We worked our way through some extremely thick vegetation, finding the flag with great difficulty, then discovered a ridiculously easy path that led directly back to the TA. So, not the most glorious of sections for Strong Machine, but we lived to fight another day.
We were now a little more than 26 hours into the race. We were told to estimate about 1.5 hours for the bike back. We cut through the park on the path we had just taken from the last foot CP and turned right on the gravel road that would take us home. On the ride out, we saw lots of teams we knew, and we cheered them on as we biked past them…Journey, then GOALS, and finally Chaffing the Dream running at us down the road, at least four miles away from the TA. We found CP 42, the first of three bike CPs on this final section, at the edge of a giant, bizarre-looking boulder field, then followed a trail into a cleared hilltop thick with power lines. There was a bit of tricky navigation here, but we made it through without a too much difficulty, and then had a blast descending our last downhill of the day. At the bottom of the trail was CP 43, and not far after, we came across a woman walking her dog who revealed that the large rock where CP 44 was hanging was just down the road. Well, it was actually up the road, as we hit a surprising uphill, which didn’t feel great so close to the finish/beers.
At the top, we saw the last flag hanging in a wedge between two huge boulders - a "split rock." We ambled over to punch, then did our ride of glory straight down the hill to the finish line. Cowbells rung out and we crossed the line slowly, soaking in the moment. This was fun for Starker and Cliff, but for Evan, it was a huge deal – completing his first nationals and his first race over 12 hours. He was stoked.
Kate, with Wilder papoosed around her, met us at the finish line, and Rootstock was there – now officially newly crowned U.S. champions. We gave them big hugs, hung out for a bit, and then headed back to the hotel for a much-needed bite to eat and a shower.
Later, in the hotel, still sleepless after about 35 hours, we sat down for some pizza and were joined by Mari Chandler and Kyle Peter of Team Adventure Medical Kits. After winning nationals four years in a row, Kyle had come in third this year, and he seemed a bit bummed. Or maybe he was just tired. Either way, it was a real thrill to sit next to some of the best adventure racers in the world and just have a chat with them, even though it probably would have been more coherent had we not been so sleep-deprived.
It’s moments like those that make the USARA National Championships so special, and why we keep returning every year. The world of adventure racing is small enough so that we’re really one big family. We care for each other. We (mostly) all like each other, but even when we don't, we still root for one another. And we respect anyone willing to toe the start line with us.
To not attend this race would be like no-showing for Thanksgiving dinner at Grandma and Grampa’s place. Even racing in the all-male division this year, even biking around the river instead of wading through it, even heading back early to the finish even though we didn’t even come close to clearing the course – it still felt worth it. And if you have to ask why, then clearly, you’re not an adventure racer.
But if you’ve read this far and you’re not, it just may be worth checking out the sport.
We were now a little more than 26 hours into the race. We were told to estimate about 1.5 hours for the bike back. We cut through the park on the path we had just taken from the last foot CP and turned right on the gravel road that would take us home. On the ride out, we saw lots of teams we knew, and we cheered them on as we biked past them…Journey, then GOALS, and finally Chaffing the Dream running at us down the road, at least four miles away from the TA. We found CP 42, the first of three bike CPs on this final section, at the edge of a giant, bizarre-looking boulder field, then followed a trail into a cleared hilltop thick with power lines. There was a bit of tricky navigation here, but we made it through without a too much difficulty, and then had a blast descending our last downhill of the day. At the bottom of the trail was CP 43, and not far after, we came across a woman walking her dog who revealed that the large rock where CP 44 was hanging was just down the road. Well, it was actually up the road, as we hit a surprising uphill, which didn’t feel great so close to the finish/beers.
At the top, we saw the last flag hanging in a wedge between two huge boulders - a "split rock." We ambled over to punch, then did our ride of glory straight down the hill to the finish line. Cowbells rung out and we crossed the line slowly, soaking in the moment. This was fun for Starker and Cliff, but for Evan, it was a huge deal – completing his first nationals and his first race over 12 hours. He was stoked.
Kate, with Wilder papoosed around her, met us at the finish line, and Rootstock was there – now officially newly crowned U.S. champions. We gave them big hugs, hung out for a bit, and then headed back to the hotel for a much-needed bite to eat and a shower.
Later, in the hotel, still sleepless after about 35 hours, we sat down for some pizza and were joined by Mari Chandler and Kyle Peter of Team Adventure Medical Kits. After winning nationals four years in a row, Kyle had come in third this year, and he seemed a bit bummed. Or maybe he was just tired. Either way, it was a real thrill to sit next to some of the best adventure racers in the world and just have a chat with them, even though it probably would have been more coherent had we not been so sleep-deprived.
It’s moments like those that make the USARA National Championships so special, and why we keep returning every year. The world of adventure racing is small enough so that we’re really one big family. We care for each other. We (mostly) all like each other, but even when we don't, we still root for one another. And we respect anyone willing to toe the start line with us.
To not attend this race would be like no-showing for Thanksgiving dinner at Grandma and Grampa’s place. Even racing in the all-male division this year, even biking around the river instead of wading through it, even heading back early to the finish even though we didn’t even come close to clearing the course – it still felt worth it. And if you have to ask why, then clearly, you’re not an adventure racer.
But if you’ve read this far and you’re not, it just may be worth checking out the sport.
5th place all-male division; something like 30th overall. 1st place in the "most ice cream sandwiches consumed while on course" category.
