GRUSK Venti: The Conclusion

If you have not already read about the start of this adventure, please read about Day 1 here and Day 2 here.

So many chickens.  And one very loud rooster.

Roosters are assholes.  That being said, Friday night's sleep was one of the best I have ever had.  After reading for a bit, I fell asleep and slept like the dead until about 01:00, at which point I had to pee.  (Do you sense a pattern?)  I got up and out of the tent and happened to glance up towards the sky.  The STARS.  So many stars.  There were no lights and minimal clouds, so all you saw were billions upon billions of stars.  It was breathtaking.  I almost took off my rain fly after that so I could just fall asleep (with my glasses on) staring up at the immensity of space.  But, I was not sure about the weather, and would have hated to wake up to raindrops on my head.  So, I crawled back in my tent and threw some earplugs in and went back to sleep.

Even with earplugs, I still was woken up about 04:30 by our new friend Colonel Chicken Fingers crowing.  Ugh.  I forgot how annoying roosters can be.  Luckily, he quieted down after a few minutes and I got another hour or so of sleep.  I woke up a little after 06:00 and heard that Laurie was already up and breaking down her camp.  I started doing the same and got dressed in a nice, clean, dry, new kit.  This was probably the most exciting thing of the morning.  Day three always gets a new kit, and that day, I REALLY needed it.  The two previous days of rain and sweat had created a little more...  friction...  than I was used to.  Needless to say, I did not bring enough chamois cream.  Oops.

This little honey bee was pretty excited about the good vibes from my gloves.

We ate a quick breakfast, washed up, and packed our bags.  We said goodbye to our host more than once (seriously, you should definitely make this B&B your next weekend getaway!), said good morning to a lovely little honey bee (that did not try to sting me!), and chatted with our new Italian friend for a few minutes before heading off.  

We had an idea of what was coming...  We knew that we had to climb out of the river basin, but in all honesty, I did not look at the elevation profile that hard.  So we started out on a smooth paved climb.  And we climbed.  And we climbed.  And we just kept climbing.  I kind of figured it would be a long climb, but after about three miles, I finally gave in and looked at the elevation profile on my Wahoo.  I even zoomed out, but it just looked like a wall.  A never ending wall.  

So we kept climbing.

One of the very short low grades on our
12 mile climb out of the river basin.

After a bit, my knee started to remind me that it had been seven weeks since I tore my MCL.  Just a little poke...  "Hey there brain....  remember me?  Your right knee?  I am not too happy, you might want to scale it back a notch..."  So, I eased off a bit.  I had gotten a bit of a gap on Laurie, and she quickly closed it and kept climbing.  I kept climbing, too, just at a slower pace.  My knee breathed a sigh of relief and kept quiet for a little longer.

Smile through the pain.

The nice smooth pavement climb suddenly turned into a worn out farm road complete with ruts, rocks, and more climbing.  Luckily, we dived into some lovely wooded areas and left the blinding sun behind for a bit.  Which, do not get me wrong, I was pretty excited to see the sun, since it had rained the majority of the past two days.   But it was bright and a little warm on the climbs when we were exposed.  The shade is much more conducive to climbing.  

After about 12 miles and 2 hours of climbing, we finally hit a nice little descent that took us to Route 33.  We stopped at the intersection and had a nice little snack break, getting excited that we were done with the majority of the first section of climbing for the day.  I briefly looked at the elevation profile on my Wahoo and saw a nice downhill section, so I told Laurie that at least the section of Route 33 was downhill.  This is important because Route 33 is a very busy road with a 55 mph speed limit and only a very small shoulder.  I figured that we would be swift on the downhill and get off the anxiety inducing highway quickly.  

Well...  Someone should really zoom out when looking at the elevation profile.  Because only the first third of our section of Route 33 was downhill.  The rest was a 1.5 mile 8% slog up the mountain.  With vehicles whizzing by VERY closely.  It was terrifying.  But we made it up and off 33 as quickly as our tired legs and angry knee would let us.

And then we descended.  It was fast, breezy, and exactly what I needed.  I knew this was the last descent before we started the 25 mile climb that would ultimately get us to the highest point in West Virginia.  Unfortunately, the descent was only a mile and a half long.  But it was long enough to dry some of the sweat and put a huge grin on our faces. 

WE ARE GOING TO MAKE IT!

The next bit was a lovely paved road with just enough of a grade to make you pedal.  But we were making good time and enjoying the scenery.  Lots of open space, some farms, mountains around us.  It was everything you could wish from a low grade, steady climb on pavement.  

Just keep spinning, just keep spinning!

As we pass through Whitmer, we realise that Laurie is getting a little low on water.  We stopped at a church, thinking there would be a hose bib outside that we could use, but a cursory search yielded nothing.  I knew that Ruby's tackle shop was just ahead, so we decided to carry on and stop there for a refill.

We pull into Ruby's and luckily, the sign indicated she was open.  There was another sign on the door that asked patrons to please wear a mask (for those reading this far into the future, this was during the COVID-19 pandemic).  Laurie had forgotten to bring a mask, but I had one buried deep in my feed bag.  So I dug it out and went inside in search of water and salty snacks (see, theme!).  

I looked around, and it took a minute for me to register that Ruby was sitting down in a recliner in the corner.  She got up and immediately went into grandmother mode.  She is the sweetest thing.  She got us some water, offered to open a full size bag of chips for me (I refused, that would have been silly), and made sure we had everything we needed to continue on.  That woman is an absolute godsend.  If you ever happen to be out her way, stop by and say hi.  

All smiles as we get ready to leave the pavement behind
and continue towards the Spruce Knob summit.

We filled up and continued on our way.  The lovely mildly graded paved climb eventually turned to gravel and meandered along the Cheat River.  This is one of my very favourite roads in West Virginia because it is so pretty and is such an understated climb.  I knew that from this point we had about 20 miles to go to hit the summit and about 11 miles to hit the race day aid station.  I NEEDED those salty snacks.  

On this section of Whitmer Road, there are tons of fishing spots, primitive campsites, swimming holes, etc.  So, we definitely ran into several cars, some friendly folks, and even a couple of dogs.  Everyone was so polite.  One truck with Florida plates even apologized for the dust as they passed us.  There were smiles and waves all over the place.  

We stopped at a forest service bathroom (it is just a chemical toilet, no running water) for a quick break and to stretch our legs before continuing on the climb. Here is where I realized that I was out of chamois cream.  My saddle sores seemed to have saddle sores.  For the past 10-15 miles, I had been shifting around as much as possible on the bike to alleviate the friction and pressure.  But since the grade was so low, it was pretty difficult to stay out of the saddle for more than a few seconds at a time.  Both of us commented on how we wished the grade were a bit steeper so we could spend more time out of the saddle.

Luckily, Laurie had one packet of chamois cream left, so we split it.  It was heaven for about a mile, then things went right back to feeling like sandpaper.  Note to self, bring two packets of chamois cream per day and USE THEM next time.  Some lessons are learned the hard way.  This is one of those lessons, since I normally never use chamois cream.  But the rain and sweat definitely did a number on me.  

The road did eventually tick up a bit in the steepness department.  This was a relief from a saddle perspective, but my knee kept reminding me that it was there.  I was having some internal conflict about whether or not we should head up to the summit or if we should cut the course and head back to the venue (this was an option that would have knocked about 12 miles off the final mileage tally and cut an hour off the time that it would take for me to get to beer at the venue.  

BUT...  I really wanted the redemption of finishing this race.  So I just kept slogging along and debating with myself.  About the time that I was ready to throw in the towel and tell Laurie that I had decided to skip the summit, we saw the sign that indicated we were about to turn onto the main race course, which meant that salty snacks were only a couple of miles ahead!

And low and behold, but who shows up at that intersection the moment we ride up?  Travis Olsen himself.  He stopped, grabbed a photo of us, and made sure we were in good spirits.  He told us to just keep on spinning and he would see us at the finish in a couple of hours.  That was just the motivation that I needed.  I felt a little fire in my legs and I told myself that we were so close, I just needed some salty snacks.

That two miles to the aid station just about killed me.  I was aching in so many places.  My back, my shoulders, my saddle sores, my knee.  Even my arms were sore.  Everything was complaining about 200 miles in the saddle and so much climbing.  But we were so close.  We passed the sign that said Aid Station 1 Mile and I almost cried.  

I can go one more mile.  I CAN.

When we pulled up to the aid station, instinct took over.  I leaned my bike against the guard rail and waddled over.  I immediately took a shot of pickle juice.  It was just as gross as I remembered it being, but boy, did it do the trick.  After about a minute or two, my legs started feeling less heavy.  I ate crackers and cheese, chips, pringles, more chips, Doritos, and grabbed another packet of crackers to eat later in case I needed more salty goodness.  I drank some gatorade (which is also just as gross as I remembered it), went back for more chips.  It was glorious.  

Laurie, by this time had gotten her fill, gotten back on the bike, and was ready to go, thinking I was right behind her.  She looked over and saw I was still stuffing my face.  Sorry about that.  I needed fuel.  

We had about a half mile or so to go before the split to make the decision whether to keep on course up the mountain or cut it and head back.  Laurie knew that her husband and stepson were about 45 minutes ahead of us, so we had the chance to catch them as they were coming down from the summit.  Seeing people and eating ALL of the food had energized me.  And I really REALLY wanted redemption.  So I made the decision to go all in and if worse came to worse, I could turn around and head back.

So we climbed.  

We got passed by a few fast friends as they were climbing and finishing up their races.  Harlow, Jen, Cara and others.  They all cheered us on and told us we were crazy for climbing the summit on fully loaded bikes.  Full disclosure, we thought about ditching some of our heavier gear before heading up, but decided it would a) not be worth the hassle and b) would not exactly be in the spirit of bikepacking.  

We did see the boys as we were climbing, so we stopped for a moment to chat and say hi.  They were in great spirits and were pretty stoked to cross paths with us.  That moment made the climb worth every agonizing pedal turn.  

The last push up to the summit is paved.  It is also steep with a little psych-out descent in the middle.  My knee was pretty close to yelling at me here.  So, I eased off and spun up the climb to take some pressure off.  Laurie was looking strong up the climb, but she eased off a bit too so that I could catch up.

And finally...  After three days, 200 miles, 20,000 feet of elevation, we were at the highest point in West Virginia.  Welcome to Spruce Knob.

WE MADE IT!!!

I was STOKED.  We were going to finish this thing!  And it took less time than I expected to climb to the summit, so we were going to get to beer sooner than I thought.  Oh yeah!   

So we made the little circuit at the top, had another shot of pickle juice (ICK!) and headed down the mountain.  

The best thing about this race is that the summit is an out and back.  So you get to see folks as you are climbing up and heading down.  We did not see too many folks on the way up, as we were near the front of the races.  But on the way down, we got to see a steady stream of friendly faces.  Calling out to people that you know as you bomb down the mountain (or climb up) is some of the most fun I have ever had.  So thanks to everyone that said hi as we flew down. 

The last bit of the course is mostly downhill.  There are a couple of smaller climbs, one of which is notorious from 2019 where my rear derailleur seized.  While climbing it this year, I kept reminding myself that at least I was on my bike and not running in bike shoes to the finish.  I also kept reminding myself that we only had a couple of miles to go, so just keep spinning!

Adrenaline kicks in when you know you are so close to the finish.  Laurie and I both kicked it into high gear as soon as we turned onto the road to the finish.  

JUST GET IT DONE.    

My knee was starting to protest again, but I really wanted to just get off the bike, so I pushed on.  Half a mile to go.  

JUST GET IT DONE.

We heard some cheers as we rounded a corner and Laurie's husband was on the side of the road cheering like a mad man.  It was heartwarming and gave me the last little push that I needed to finish the climb and turn onto the grassy descent to the finish.

WE WERE DONE!

Laurie and I crossed the finish line together.  I think we tried to high five or hold hands or something, but the fact is, we finished and we finished together.  

There was a lot of emotion as I crossed that finish line.  The one that was most up front was relief to get off the bike and not have to sit on a saddle for a while.  The next one was pride.  Seven weeks ago, I started out to complete a similar race with high expectations but was sidelined 130 miles into the ride with a torn MCL.  I was devastated, and that was even before I knew the extent of the injury.  I worked so hard to rehab that knee, doing everything the ortho and PT advised.  I even started taking rest days!  (Rest day, what is that?!)  So to finish GRUSK in relatively good shape AND with one of my best friends.  

That is a victory any way you look at it.  

Sure, I took a little longer than I wanted to, but we got to enjoy the ride instead of racing towards a finish line.  Otherwise we would not have stopped to pet goats, see waterfalls, chat with locals, get stung by bumble bees, or have pizza and beer with new bike friends.  

It was the best kind of adventure.