Last year I wanted to do this race, but I knew I was in no shape to take on something I really had not clue about. So I sat it out, focused on riding until this years’ edition, and did my homework. The last few months I spent riding my singlespeed solely and gathering all my gear and packs. Testing everything out, unpacking and repacking so many times that I felt I could do it in my sleep. So standing there at 6am in Idylwild with about 40 other racers, and some friends who were also doing the race, I felt great. Confident that I can do this.
Unfortunately my “race” (which I quote, because we weren’t racing, simply going out on a 4 day mountain biking adventure) would be over less than half way in, in the middle of a tiny town in who-knows-where San Diego County, because my knee decided it had enough abuse from endless hike-a-bikes and hours of mounting, pedaling a bit and dismounting. I don’t blame my equipment or the route. People get hurt, and it was my turn in that line.
I wish I could have made it back to sign my name on the clipboard that was hanging on the Hub’s front door, but it was not in the cards this year. During the drive back to Idylwild I swore to myself that I would take this on again and make things right (this is quite in contrast to what I felt hiking through Fish Creek Wash for 9 hours).
Stagecoach 2015, let’s handle this the old fashioned way.