The Crusher EX

Due to the pandemic, I wasn’t planning on doing any races after I got home from the Iditarod Trail Invitational. I was going to take a whole year off. I was going to spend the year reflecting on myself, figuring out how I could be a better person, learn how to manage my time a little better, doing cool things around the house. I wanted to go on more adventures with my husband and our two dogs. I wanted to landscape the yard and make my own soap and to organize all of my camping gear.

Things never go exactly as planned, and I'm okay with that.

Chelsea

Enter my good friend, Chelsea Strate, who suggested that we sign up for the Crusher EX in the Yoop. All my plans for taking it easy this summer were hucked out the window and I agreed to do the race with her pretty much instantly. I love Chelsea and I would go on any crazy adventure with her! The Crusher is a 225+ mile “enhanced gravel” race that loops out from Marquette’s Forestville campground. Chelsea and I have ridden Dirty Kanza 200 together and we had both raced other endurance events, so I knew that she had strengths where my weaknesses were but also that we worked well together and that I had strengths that would come in handy, too. It’s important to find someone that you jive well with when planning a big ride like this, and she is basically the most perfect person you would ever want to ride around with.

About the “Enhanced Gravel” aspect of the race, though: Don’t be fooled. The Crusher is not your typical gravel race. The Crusher has more technical riding to it than some of the endurance mountain bike races that I’ve completed in the past. It also has water crossings and places where you have to lift your bike up and over giant rocks. Sure, it can be done on a gravel bike, but theoretically most mountain bike races can be done on a gravel bike, right? It all just boils down to how comfortable do you want to be and what areas of the trail you want to be fast on. I love picking through rocks and roots and bushwhacking and scrambling up and over things and I love barreling down descents and feeling my heart beat in my head when I get to the top of a climb. For me, I want to be fast in those sections because it’s fun. I don’t mind dialing it back a bit and snacking and chatting on the chill sections of gravel and pavement – so for me, a gravel bike was out of the question - I wanted something burlier as I was incredibly intrigued by the photos of rocks and mud surfacing on the Crusher’s facebook page. We began to hear that the race distance was actually closer to 250 miles, not 225 as it had been promoted. Sneaky, sneaky, Todd Poquette – but I love shenanigans and this seemed like the ultimate shenanigan adventure with Chelsea. Everything about it sounded great!

Chelsea and I had a lot of discussion as to which bike would be the right bike for the Crusher course, and she settled on her full-suspension Salsa Spearfish whereas I settled on my Salsa Beargrease – a fat bike – but with 27.5 Velocity Dually’s and a suspension fork. It’s a bike I’ve spent a lot of time on and I absolutely love the “summertime” wheels set up on it. It’s a snappy little hardtail and I have a smorgasbord of frame bags for it. I thought it was important to carry as little weight as possible on my body so that I could be comfortable for a long ass day on the bike. 

With an Ergon women’s SR pro saddle and the Ergon GA3 grips my booty and paws would be comfortable and I knew I wouldn’t deal with the saddle sores or numbness that other participants have been dealing with out there. I have been riding chamois-less since my recent stint in Alaska and I've found it to be more comfortable because everything dries faster and there's no chaffing. Chamois Butter sent me a tub of a new endurance cream they're testing out and I brought it with for this ride. (Verdict: it was nice. I cannot believe how fresh my bits felt after finishing this ride!) I had 27.5x2.6” Teravail Honcho tires on the Dually’s leftover from my botched Marji Out and Back attempt last fall, but decided to shake things up a bit and to pop some 27.5x2.3” Teravail Eh Lines on my wet blue rims. Dang, my Beargrease is a beautiful rig, and those skinnier tires paired with the wide Dually rim made for a fast, yet reliable, little rocket! I seriously LOVE playing around with wheel size on a bike and this ride just super reinforced that!

I used my Three Toes Threadworks feedbag, top tube bag, and framebag, as well as my cheeseburger saddle bag and my Osprey 50oz hydration vest. I like the vest because it doesn’t bounce around and it has all of these secret pockets along with a whistle strung in an easy to reach spot. The whistle was one of the items on the recommended gear list and although I never used it while on course, I felt safer carrying it. Other recommended gear items included 3,000 calories, 3L of water carrying capacity, a GPS unit (I used my Garmin ETrex 30 – that thing is dependable and has over 35 hours of AA battery life!), cell phone, rain jacket, a pocket knife, headlight and taillights, money, spare tubes and flat repair kit, chain tool and master link, multi-tool, a snorkel, water filter, extra layers, emergency blanket, extra batteries or a usb power bank, first aid kid, brake pads, zip ties and tape, chain lube, derailleur hanger, and extra socks.

I neglected to carry the emergency blanket, rain jacket, and the snorkel with me – though I did get myself a full-face snorkel this spring thinking that the recommended gear would actually be surprise mandatory and that we would have a gear check. I was happy that I didn’t have to carry that bulky item with me, and even happier when we arrived at the mouth of the Huron river as it spit out in to Lake Superior and the water was only as deep as my waist. At 6am when we laid down on the side of the trail to take a 15-minute rejuvenating dirt nap, I did kick myself for not bringing a jacket warmer than my 45nrth Torvald windbreaker and for not bringing the emergency blanket. You bet I immediately ordered an emergency blanket as soon as I got home from this trip!! That thing would have been luxurious when temps dropped as low as 41 degrees Fahrenheit on July 31^st in the backwoods of northern Michigan! 

Before the Crusher and afterwards, we stayed up in Marquette with our friends Evan and Grace Simula in their 4 year old’s dinosaur bunk bed, and Evan was kind enough to let me borrow one of his Ovaja Negra feedbags since I decided to carry an extra water bottle the night before we started. Evan works at one of the best bike shops in the world, the Sports Rack, and we popped by to pick up some brake pads when we realized people were going through them on the hilly course like hot cakes. Due to Murphy’s law, since we had obtained the brake pads, we never needed to use them. If we wouldn’t have scooped them up, we would have been in a jam! I will always prefer to be overpacked than under packed when heading out for an adventure, and I was happy to have those little bits just in case I needed them.

Due to the pandemic stifling out-of-state travel plans, Matt and Jenny Acker wound up being in Marquette the same weekend that Chelsea and I were planning to be up there. A week or so before our slated Crusher stint rolled around Jenny asked if she could join Chelsea and I out on the course. Of course we wanted her along! Our nervous twosome became a party trio and we were stoked to have Matt and their dogs, Beaubandy and Pedro, as a support crew out there on the course. Jenny was on her full suspension Salsa Spearfish and she had packed a few bonus items with her: a special bikini top for checkpoint photos, cold pizza, and a superb understanding of the course and familiarity of some of the route. She and Matt had been up in the UP for a few days and had done recon of some of the tricky sections and she had also finished the race, previously called the HAMR, in 2018. The Crusher route this year was completely new from years in the past, but some of the route utilized the same areas. Jenny is also one heck of a rider and Chelsea and I were thrilled that we would have her along as company!

The three of us started our adventure at 6am on Friday, July 31^st. We had perfect weather, no rain, and the bugs were mostly non-existent the entirety of our ride. I still feel like we were incredibly lucky to have had such a great window, especially when a storm rolled through Saturday night after we had finished. It seems there is a storm every Saturday up there this summer. Through out the 33 hours of our elapsed time from beginning to end on the route, we continuously thanked Chelsea for choosing the very best day to ride the Crusher course! The 70 degree mostly sunny day paired with 14 or so hours of daylight meant we would have the most fun out there hands down. I dare anyone else riding out there to laugh harder than the three of us laughed while together out there!
When we got to the first checkpoint, the summit of Hogback mountain, two runners on the 50k course helped us haul our bikes to the top. “You can leave your bikes here and hike to the top, or you can bring them with you. We brought ours to the top only because we were riding the course with Todd.” “If you did it, we have to do it, too.” So, we made a human assembly line and we got all our bikes to the top! As we asked the runners if they’d take our photo to prove we made it there, Jenny pulled the bikini top out of her hydration pack and we were overcome with laughter – it was a flesh-toned top with nipples on it. Chelsea and I didn’t have matching bikini tops but we stripped off our jerseys anyway for our photo. Thus, our checkpoint photo theme was born and we joked about it for the next 245 miles. 

After hauling our rolling suitcases up and down Hogback mountain, we climbed single-track to the Top of the World. We snickered as we rode past some folks sleeping in hammocks smack-dab over the trail and cruised down the technical descent. At the first creek crossing, Chelsea splashed through, I followed her line, and Jenny opted for taking a different line. Jenny crashed in the middle of the water, soaking the Jimmy Johns turkey sub that she had stashed in her back pocket. We joked about how she wanted to get a crash out of the way and continued onwards towards our next checkpoint: a water spigot some 30 miles ahead.

I saw some riders ahead of us on a mucky service road that we were navigating, and excitedly tried to catch them. I pedaled around muddy ponds and squished over dried up puddles keeping my eye on the folks ahead of us, and put my tire right in a squishy, mucky hole. My bike stopped suddenly and I had a slow tip over into the water. I told Jenny that I wanted to make her feel better about her water tumble some miles back and after laughing I hopped back on my bike and we continued forwards. Some distance later, we caught up to the people ahead of us on a climb, “Who are you?” I shouted at them. “Don’t blame me!” Danny Hill, a RAMBA volunteer notoriously known for designing difficult race courses, and friends were out riding the 100-mile Crusher course. We rode with them for a bit before passing and making our way to the water spigot.

We all had to go to the bathroom and we knew that we didn’t have long before they caught back up to us, especially because we stopped for a few minutes at a tree that had bras and panties strewn in its branches, so we pedaled hard and dropped our drawers as soon as we spotted the spout. As the first to arrive there, I didn’t even bother sneaking in to the woods, and I squatted as quickly as I could in the road. Jenny squatted after me, and Chelsea delicately tried to find an adequate spot to relieve herself. Once her shorts were down, she stumbled, and she stepped backwards into some mud which quickly slurped up past her ankle. As she screamed and struggled with her shorts down, Jenny spotted Danny and his entourage and shouted, “They’re coming!!” We all laughed so hard we cried, and Danny and his group waved hello as they cruised past – they didn’t stop at the spigot and we could have waited instead of scrambling as we had – whoops! After they disappeared down the road in the distance, we prepared for our next checkpoint photo as we ate our Jimmy Johns subs. Jenny, who said that her soggy sub wasn’t that bad, propped her phone up on her helmet to take our picture as Chelsea and I positioned ourselves behind trees. A truck quickly approached and we panicked and tried to crouch down, because we were uncouth, but the driver just sped past completely unaware of cyclists dying of laughter half naked in the woods. We snapped our photo and quickly hopped back on our bikes, excited for our next checkpoint further down the trail.

The next checkpoint was an abandoned snowplow on the side of the road kind of near a house. We had volleyed back and forth with another rider doing the 100-mile course, and he stopped when he saw that we were stopped at the snowplow to chat. We jokingly asked him if he would take our photo for us, but then sheepishly said, “There’s one stipulation….” He blushed and said he’d keep on pedaling. We wished him luck on his ride and watched him pedal away as Chelsea and I jumped behind the blade and Jenny MacGyver’d her phone to take a photo of us. We were dancing on a thin line between wanting to move quickly because we didn’t want anyone to spot us topless climbing on a decrepit snowplow and needing to inspect the photo to make sure our bits weren’t showing because we’d be submitting the photo to Todd to acknowledge that we had finished the route. After zooming in and making sure that we were sufficiently covered, we continued on to the highest point in Michigan and our next checkpoint, Mt. Arvon.

Holy cow, Mt. Arvon had a lot of hills leading up to its peak. There were several times that I asked Jenny if we were at the top, only to have her laugh and tell me no. We finally saw a blue mailbox with names written on it and cheered – we made it! There was a sign that said “View” off to the right of the summit but we dared not ride down it because we didn’t know how far it’d be and we didn’t know if we’d have to climb out of it. We saw a hiker and told him to report back to us on the view and if it was worth the trek. While waiting for him to come back, we snacked at the picnic table and signed the autograph book inside of the mailbox. Upon the hiker’s return, he said the view was okay and he wished us luck on the ride. We lazily decided not to scope out the view and I am truthfully a little regretful that we didn’t – but I mentally made note to come back to the route, as there were so many neat little roads, waterfalls, and places I wanted to revisit with more time! As soon as the hiker disappeared down the road, we prepared for our checkpoint photo. In the process of posing, Chelsea accidentally tore the Mt. Arvon sign off of its post and we scurried shirtless to duct tape it back. After laughing at our misfortune and hopping back on our bikes, Jenny told us we’d want to unlock our forks for the terrifically fun rapid descent. That was worth the climb! Partway down, I remembered that I had wanted to grab a rock from the top of Mt. Arvon for Dan, so I skidded to a stop and snagged the first rock I found. I shrugged and told Chelsea and Jenny not to tell Dan it wasn’t from the very top and we chuckled as we continued on.

We found our way through gravel roads to a gully riddled with mud, fallen branches, and rocks. Laughing as we picked our bikes up and over things, we felt like explorers finding our way through for the first time. Chelsea swooped past a branch and I was following too closely – the branch ricocheted back and smacked me in the face – I was glad that I was wearing sunglasses! We were cruising along at a good pace and realized that our water was getting kind of low. We had been able to refill our hydration packs and bottles at the water spigot and we still had about 15 miles before reaching a campground with a water pump. As we came to a turn with a church on the corner, Jenny suggested that we stop to see if there was a hose outside that we could use. There was, and we happily snacked, filled our containers, and stuck our arms, feet, heads, and hands under the cool water.

I found a stinky garbage can in the parking lot and unloaded the trash from my pockets, accidentally tossing Dan’s “top of Mt. Arvon” rock in with my wrappers. I instinctively began to dig through the trash bags to retrieve the rock, but spotted a few maggots crawling on the bags, gagged a little, and immediately ran back to the church to wash myself off. I picked up another rock from that parking lot and put it in my framebag. Luckily, I remembered to bring that rock, along with another from the mouth of the Huron and a sparkly rock snagged from the Yellow Dog River, home. Dan loves collecting rocks as souvenirs when we’re out on adventures and he magically remembers where each specimen has come from. Before leaving Grand Rapids and heading to Marquette, Dan pridefully showed Chelsea a baseball-sized rock that he had fished out of a puddle in a glacier while I was pedaling through Alaska in the 350-mile Iditarod a few years prior. He made her hold it for good luck. I was excited to come home and to play show and tell and to share the stories of our ride as I presented Dan with the rocks that I smuggled for him.

Since we had already retrieved fresh water, we rolled straight past the campground and continued onward towards the mouth of the Huron. We got there relatively quickly after the church and cheered as the gravel road we were on gradually turned to sand and then to the beach. All along the course we kept seeing amazing campsites and this place would definitely be a rad place to post up! A small group with kids had snagged the amazing spot on our side of the beach, but across the river there were cars lined up to camp with the families sitting in lawn chairs enjoying Lake Superior. A whole lot of people here meant that we got a glimpse of civilization, but it also meant that it would make our checkpoint photo more difficult to maneuver. We hung around for a bit teetering on the plan but saw that the family swimming closest to us was not really paying attention so we just went for it! Checkpoint photo obtained, mission accomplished.

We had heard horror stories that the mouth of the Huron could be chest deep – or deeper for someone like myself who stands 5 foot 3 inches tall on a good day – so we were thrilled when we came upon the river and that it didn’t look that deep. We watched some kids splash around and saw that there was a sandbar a bit further out. We took our shoes and socks off and hoisted our bikes up so we wouldn’t get water in the frames and waded across to the other side. Once across, we spotted Matt and Beaubandy headed our direction! Matt greeted us and walked us to the van where he quickly lubed our chains and topped off our water. Spirits were high and we knew that we had pavement and firm gravel all the way to our next stopping point, L’Anse. Chelsea accidentally left her tiara in the van and we joked for miles about how pretty Banders would be wearing it.

A few miles beyond the big lake, Jenny heard air hissing out of her tire. She had an old bacon strip in the tire that had finally failed and we quick popped another in and used Chelsea’s CO2 to inflate her back to business. Somewhere between the mouth of the Huron and the flat my taillight had fallen off of my bike. Chelsea had a spare on her, but when she went to strap it to my seatpost the strap got all bungled and it broke! We duct taped the light to my seatpost and I was quite surprised at how quickly we got through our “mechanicals.” Seriously, nothing makes me feel as strong and as invincible as the confidence that fixing our own bike problems makes me feel!  I was so proud of us for already making it this far and for our unwavering courageousness heading out in to the night as the sun was setting. I had a NiteRider 1800 on my handlebars and a 1200 OLED Lumina on my helmet, both have roughly 6-7 hours worth of battery life, with a spare 1200 in my framebag - by riding to L'Anse with only the handlebar light on, I was able to stagger my light battery life and was able to finish with plenty of power left. Since we were hitting the route in July, we only had 8-9 hours of night to ride through, which made packing lights a little simpler than if we were riding in September. We were all feeling good but we were definitely starting to feel some strain on our legs especially after stopping.

I love coming up to a town in the dark. The sun had gone down and we were riding along with our lights brightening up the road – we were so thankful to have chosen that particular night to get after the Crusher because the sky was clear and the moon was big and bright! Thanks to a long-paved stretch heading in to L’Anse, I was able to stare up at the stars as we pedaled towards the building lights. I swear we could see them 5 miles out! It was such a perfect night and my face felt as though I had been smiling for hours. Matt found us just outside of town and asked if we wanted to picnic there or if we wanted to meet him at the gas station on the way out of town. We chose the gas station and pedaled a little further to it before taking off our helmets and relaxing for a moment.

Inside of the gas station I snagged chocolate milk, an ice cream snickers bar, and a couple sticks of string cheese. Outside of the gas station, Matt surprised us with chicken burritos! I swear, that was the most delicious burrito of my life. We happily sat at a picnic table munching on food as Matt filled our bottles, asked us what we needed, and basically gave us some top-notch all-star service. There comes a point in any endurance race where you’re just as happy as can be and you’re so grateful for the people who help you keep going, and I was definitely hitting that spot there in L’Anse. It was a high point of the trip for sure. By time the lights had turned off and the gas station had closed at midnight, I was completely full, cozy, and content. We still had over 100 miles left to go and although it was somewhat equivalent to what we had already ridden for some reason I felt like it was going to get easier. Matt told us that the route wasn’t as hilly from here on out and we chirped with excitement as we pedaled out in to the night.

Matt lied. The last 100 miles of the route are hilly. They could actually be just as hilly as the first 100 miles, but instead of scrambling up punchy stuff like Hogback, Top of the World, and Mt. Arvon, the route has longer climbs that are spread out for further distances. We realized quickly as we climbed out of L’Anse that this would be the case! The course basically takes you almost to the top of Mt. Arvon again and this is where we saw something peculiar bounce out of the woods for a brief moment!

We all gasped and hollered when we saw it, a playful looking creature a little larger than a fox. The thing had a thin, long tail, pointy ears, and the face of a cat. Reddish gold in its hue, with faint stripes around its tail, we joyfully referred to it as a kitten fox. It bounded out of some shrubs and flopped along the road the direction that we were riding and then it bopped back in to the woods. At roughly 3am or so, it never crossed our minds that what we saw could have been something dangerous, in our heads it was cute and our friend! It wasn’t until daylight, when we found Lisa Thompson with iced coffee around mile 220 or so, that we were told that people were claiming to see a baby mountain lion in that area. There’s a shroud of mystery surrounding that critter sighting because according to the DNR the cougar population in the UP is not a breeding population, though in those deep, dark woods I’m sure anything could happen. We spent hours after finishing the Crusher route googling creatures that could look like the animal that we saw and we’re 50% sure it was a young mountain lion but also 50% convinced that it was an ill fox with mange. The world will never know.

The nighttime temperature was dropping cooler than forecasted and we found ourselves able to see our breath in the air. Wearing only baggy shorts, wool socks, my Salsa jersey, and my Torvald windbreaker, I found myself wishing that I had brought my rain jacket to wear for warmth. We made it to the McCormick outhouse and were too chilly to completely undress, but we were able to flash off in to the distance as Jenny took a photo with her bikini top. Inside of the outhouse felt 15 degrees warmer than the outside, and after I peed, I found myself fantasizing about napping in there, just for a little bit. I was getting tired from being up all day and from not getting much sleep the night before our start. Jenny was also tired, and I easily persuaded her to huddle up inside there for some rest. Chelsea quickly shot down the idea and refused to let us sleep there, so we begrudgingly continued onward in the dark, awe struck by how silver the underside of tree leaves looked in our headlights. We began to lose focus and rode on a trail for a ways before realizing that we were slightly off course. Inspecting our computers, we went back to the spot where we were still on track and looked in the direction that the line went: there was no trail, just some brush. We dutifully got off of our bikes and walked through the tall grass before finding another trail. Luckily, between the three of us with varying GPS computers and phone apps that worked on airplane mode, we were quick to see when we were off course! For the hundredth time on this adventure, I was happy these two were with me. The entire route we joked that Jenny had won the Navigator-Extraordinaire award because she was so knowledgeable with the route and it’s elevation. Having our mama duck along on the route made things seem less intimidating and more obtainable, I was so glad to have Jenny’s and Chelsea’s company out there.

The lower we got in to the McCormick Wilderness, the chillier the night became. With no cloud cover, the dropped elevation, and fatigue from riding all day, our energy was getting zapped as we pedaled around bright green puddles with algae and 1,000’s of frogs. We decided that as soon as the sun began to rise we would stop and take a dirt nap for 20 minutes on the side of the trail. With a little sunlight, the temperature would rise just enough so that we could somewhat comfortably just curl up and get one good REM cycle before continuing forward. Chelsea won gear-packer-of-the-trip award because she brought the tiniest little inflatable camp pillow, knowing that it would boost morale when we stopped to rest. I was jealous of her pre-planned luxurious amenity, and tried to use my helmet as a pillow. It was not comfortable and I just set my face on the ground. Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, a red squirrel began chattering at us, angry that we were in it’s clearing. “Cha-cha-cha-cha-cha!” We laughed and yelled at it to shut up as we dozed off.

Twenty minutes feels like a long time when your body is exhausted. The alarm went off and we all popped up, bright eyed and bushy tailed – a little nap was exactly what we needed and we felt rejuvenated. The dawn light had turned to bright daylight while we power napped, and we were surrounded by some really beautiful and dense greenery. After some snacks we were ready to keep rallying; we had roughly 20 more miles until our next checkpoint, the Yellow Dog River, and the morning went by sweepingly quick as we rode through some absolutely beautiful woods.

One of the games that we played while out there was a game in which we saw a lost item on the side of the trail and we listed off all of the survival things that it could come in handy for. We would see a singular sock, and then we would list all of the things that we could do with it: use it to filter coffee, use it to help keep you warm, you could put berries in it, use it for toilet paper (which is probably how it wound up in the woods in the first place), etc. It kept us entertained FOR HOURS. I am convinced that we would all do incredibly well if we were ever on one of those Survivor shows. Seriously, we'd win.

We made it to the river and laughed as we scooped up our bikes and waded across. By this time on the route, we were professionals in scrambling, wading, and maneuvering over obstacles. With less than 40 miles to the finish, we decided to trek across while still wearing our shoes. I had put my feet in dog poop bags during the night to help keep my toes warm (cheap vapor barriers, lol!) and the water spilled in through the top of them. When we got to the other side of the river, I sat down to take them off, laughing and making fun of myself for wearing them. The thought of trying to ride through this river amused us, and we chatted about how funny it would be to watch people try to pedal through, or how much work it would be to get a raft out there just to forge across. A lot of our motions felt autonomous at this point, and we prepared to take our checkpoint photo casually and as if it was a completely normal thing that ordinary people did on bike rides. Totally standard. Everything about this ride is perfectly sane and normal. It wouldn't be weird if people saw us out there doing that at all.



Between the Yellow Dog River and the Snowmobile trail 12 miles from Forestville, we hit some long, exposed stretches of pavement and gravel. We were lucky with temps in the 70’s on Friday, but Saturday’s forecast was climbing and beginning to get warm. The gravel sections before the snowmobile trail were dusty and there was more traffic than the previous stretches, and I found myself getting grumpy because everything felt so dry. As we turned one corner, we saw Lisa Thomson parked on the side of the road, and all of my grump dissipated in to thin air! She poured us some icy cold brew and was just the happiest apparition that we needed exactly at that moment. After laughing with her for a bit, moral revitalized, we continued on. Jazzed up on caffeine, I wanted to get to the finish before overworking myself in the heat, and I continued to ride forward imagining refreshing beverages and hammock-times in the Simula’s backyard.

Historically, I do not do well in the sun, and as I was hammering up hills trying to hurry to the shaded snowmobile trail, I was a little bit worried that I might make myself nauseous. Last year at the Marji Out and Back, my stomach got upset and I found myself unable to ride and barfing about 65 miles in. With the time cut off for that race, I knew I wouldn’t have time to settle my tummy and continue onward, so I disappointingly said good-bye to Jenny, who I had been riding with, pulled the plug and rode to Rippling River to catch some sleep. It was so sad not to finish that race, and I felt somehow being out at the Crusher and feeling strong and good – I was getting my retribution. I hate scratching from races, but the more I’ve had to do so the more comfortable I become with doing it. There’s no shame in quitting a race if you are sick, injured, or at risk of putting yourself in danger. I heard from a friend once: you can’t quit if it’s dark, you can’t quit if you’re hungry, you can’t quit if you’re tired, and you can’t quit if you’re in a bad mood. Those are all things that can be fixed with time. At this point in the Crusher, I was not feeling unwell, I was just grumpy because I wanted to be done with it. The sun and the dust were getting to me and I impatiently wanted shade and to take my shoes off!

Once again, I was so thankful that I had Chelsea and Jenny as my cohorts: rather than make me feel bad for being ridiculous and mad at the dust, they cheered me up and pointed out all the fun things that we were riding past. We finally turned off of a road on to the powerlines, and the sand began to deflate me. I wanted more of the fun two-tracks and rocky, muddy trail! At the bottom of the powerlines we saw an RV with some folks out cheering: Barb and co. were parked and had coolers full of ice cream sandwiches and coca cola. Holy hell, that ice cream sandwich perked me right up!! Sand? We didn’t care about any stinkin’ sand, we had ice cream smooshed between two M&M cookies AND we had some nice sugary soda! Ready to tackle the final homestretch, we thanked the crew and charged away – only to turn back around to ask if we should continue on the powerlines or take the road. Everyone shouted “the road!” and we were off!  

At the end of the last dusty stretch on 510, we turned for the snowmobile trail. Lisa was parked there again to cheer us on and we sped past waving and shouting, “We’re finishing this thing!” "Triple Crown!!! Triple Crown!" It felt very good to get in to the shade and to get back to the type of riding that I love to do: chonky, rocky, wild. Earlier in the ride, I had mentioned that I typically get a second wind after riding through the night when the sun comes up – and that I get a third wind when I know I’m close to the end. I had also mentioned that sometimes when I’m nearing the end of a long adventure like this, I get sad, because I really am happiest on a bike, stinky, surrounded with good people, and exploring. I was feeling both of those things, especially because it had been such a rough spring with 2020 just being dumb. I had been so happy riding with my friends and I pedaled - craving another adventure with these two nerds. 

As I was feeling nostalgic, Chelsea pointed out that we were riding on the Noque trail, and it made me really happy because years ago we had all become better friends racing at the Noque fat bike race! That was the trip that Matt and Jenny had gone on as their third date, and the race that people were getting pulled from the course due to frostbite. It was one of the first winters we all spent traveling and racing fat bikes together, and I could not help but smile thinking of those good times and of where we were now. As the warm fuzzies were in my belly, something darted across the trail: A RIVER OTTER! How freaking perfect. Two more of its friends scurried across the trail and we could not stop laughing. If we had been just a few feet further when they decided to jump across the trail, we could have easily been taken out by one of those little beasts! They were big and chubby!! Feeling complete, we turned on the final trail through Forestville and cruised up to Matt and Jenny’s van. Matt and Lisa had been waiting for us in the woods but had missed when we cruised past – they had adorably made a “finish line” for us and we missed it! After some good laughs, we sat on a concrete block in the parking lot snacking heavily, pleased to be done yet still hungry for more.