War Daddy Race Report

 

John and I with THE Trevor Wells, Kentucky's greatest storyteller and ex-pro "brakeless" bike racer

This race is touted as THE hardest gravel race in Kentucky, what with 68 miles and 9500 feet of climbing.  You know it is when 95% of the bikes are mountain bikes and the lead out vehicle is a side by side. Every type of terrain is in this race: pavement, chip seal, gravel, chunky two track, ORV trail, single track, a creek, and finishing it off with an abandoned coal mine.  It is a perfect blend such that you actually feel like you are going somewhere and not just riding in circles, thinking you have repeated a section. I chose to race Ripley, my Trek SuperCaliber with 2.2 XR1 tires.

 

This was the first race of the year where I felt really ready.  I had decided to defer the Big Frog 65 to 2023, knowing that my body is not quick to recover from back to back races.  My hip injury had finally resolved, putting me in a much better mindset.  Having tapered and rested well for Saturday, feelings of doubt crept into my head after John and I did a short ride after arriving at Mary Breckenridge's Wendover, which is where we stayed for the race. My legs felt really heavy during the ride as well as after when I had to climb two flights of stairs up to my room. 

I had convinced John Switow to join me on this adventure, especially after he MADE me to the 110 mile course of the Appalachian Journey; I had initially only planned on doing the 65.  And, knowing the photographer that he is, he would capture the course on film, from which I could then steal for my blog.  Poor guy, I use and abuse him all the time, but he still plays bikes with me 😆😆😆 

I had raced this back in 2019 and so got the traveling trophy, a WW1 helmet, that the winner gets to sign and then bring back to the following year's event.  Well, 2020 didn't happen (COVID), and then in 2021, I had wanted to race it, but Marji Gesick was the same weekend.  Julie Durkee won the race in 2021 and was back to defend the title.  There was no doubt I was nervous about this slightly built, yet powerful woman, who could not only climb like a goat, but fly on the flats.

After a great night's sleep, I was able to kit up with the sleeveless jersey.  Starting temperature was 61 degrees!  Highs were supposed to reach the mid-70's, with no rain in the forecast.  About ... damn ... time! It was a shotgun style start ... meaning once Trevor "shotgunned" a can of Busch, it was go time.  

The start was a 5 mile neutral roll out through the town of Hyden.  Neutral enough that I could actually carry on a conversation with others.  This was a perfect 20 minute warm up for my engine. A few people came out to cheer us on, including one that had a sign saying, "It is OK to cry."  😂😂😂 The race was on when the Sheriff's car pulled off at mile 5.  The humming of 100+ tires on this one lane country road kept the dogs at bay, as not one wanted to tangle with what sounded like a swarm of African honey bees.

At mile 7, the first big climb (paved), Owl's Nest, let me know that my legs had come to play.  Dare I say "sparkly" so early in the race? Even with pitches of 18%, the legs did not bark. That put the needle square in the middle of "F*ck yeah" on my confidence meter.

Julie passed me about 1/2 way up.  Not wanting to burn any matches, I let her go, but kept her in sight. Once I reached the top, I knew the descent was going involve a lot of drifting through the loose gravel.  Feeling I could faster, I passed by Julie, bidding her a fun day, and then let 'er rip!  I didn't go above my pay grade, but I was living on the edge. I did get squirrelly one time, but fortunately had enough road to ride it out.

This gravel road rolled on a bit with a few more small climbs and descents.  A couple of guys joined me on this section, for which I was grateful:  Rico, Harry, and another fella whose name I did not get.  Popping out on River Road, I was fortunate to be in a group.  Harry, who had meat sticks that could push a sh!t ton of watts, led a fast pace along this smooth section of pavement and gravel.  I was still pedaling comfortably hard in his wake.  I may have burnt a match or two staying on Harrly's wheel.  But I also knew that Julie was just behind me and was an absolute hammer on the flats.  I did pop a couple of times, but managed to latch back on when the road tilted upwards a short piece.  

I did not stop at Aid Station 1, as I still had 1 full bottle.  I noted my time of 1hour 17 minutes, which was darn near close to my 2019 time.  How did I know that, you ask?  Because even I read my race reports for the beta.

The second climb, War Baby, came at mile 21.  Although it was only 1.3 miles long, it averaged 8.3% and saw grades of 18, 23, and 28% pop up on my Garmin. Even though it was mostly paved, the steeper pitches were loose gravel.  The legs never whimpered and I was able to give 'r to the top.  Gone were the mud bogs of 2019; so I was able to send it straight down the descent off the backside.  I parted ways with Harry, who was riding a rigid hardtail.  Later that evening at Wendover, while waiting to shower, we discovered that we had both attended TMI Academy in Sweetwater, Tenessee, during the early 80's.  Crazy how that happens.

Halfway down was where the road became a creek for about a half a mile.  Employing Trevor Tip #1, I "saw the line and became the line," which was pretty much following the flow of the creek water.  Amazing what 60mm of rear travel can do, as I was able to pass a couple of fellas on this section.

Confluence Road after the creek descent.

Confluence Road, after the watery descent

A short respite of "flattish" dirt roads with a few scattered mud holes and short creek crossings led me over to the War Dwarf climb at about mile 25.  I was on fire, in a good way, and able to utilize Trevor Tip #2: hard charge it.  And so I did making quick work of this climb, alternating between sitting/spinning and standing/hammering.

Off the backside was a sick sweet 1-lane pavement descent aptly named Hell For Certain because it went down, down, down.  Don't tell my mother but I hit 43 mph here!  Then another short but buttery smooth section of pavement followed by a left-hander onto Twist-n-Sourwood.  This is one of my favorite gravel roads.

Twist-n-Sourwood climb: smooth gravel and 5% average grade

This 2 mile climb had me in my happy place, what with all the eye candy.  Aid Station #2 (mile 32) was at the top.  This is where I refilled my bottles with Gu energy provided by the race, and washed down a Salted Caramel Gu with a cold Coke ... heaven!  Once again, I glanced at my Garmin and was only a few minutes down from my 2019 time.  

I found myself in single speeder mode along Grannie's Branch.  This was some mighty fine ridge line riding with nice rollers where I could stand and hammer up the short climbs and then sit and enjoy the short descents.  The flow along this 4 mile section was SA-WEET!

It only got better as Grannie's ended with a 2 mile baller descent down to Aid Station #3 (mile 42).  I didn't stop at this one either.  The next 5 miles was my Achilles heel:  5 miles of pancake flat asphalt.  I tried to TT it, but even with my hands resting just on either side of the stem and spinning a 80+ cadence, I just didn't seem to be getting anywhere ... oh, and a head wind.  About 2/3 into this less than pleasant section, Harry and another come ripping by me like they were on e-bikes.  I waited too late to jump on and just floundered in their wake ... meh.

I couldn't wait to see the War Daddy climb; am I crazy to dislike the flats?!?  Finally off the pavement and slowly climbing up to the ultimate beasty climb of the day, I was getting excited!  And there it be:  1 mile of nasty gnarly chunky steep AF enhanced gravel, at an average grade of 11%.  I shifted up to the pie plate and began climbing one pedal stroke at a time.  This was the only climb with limited shade and at 12:45pm it was getting hot!  Bring it, Ken-tuc-ky!  Is this all you got?  I was groovin', enjoying the punishing climb, because this is what living it about!  The sparkle was definitely in me today.  I caught back to Harry and the other fella, tried to give them some words of encouragement, passed them, and didn't see them again until after I finished.

At the top of War Daddy, the climbing doesn't stop.  Another 5 miles of rollers to Aid Station #4.  These rollers were not as tame as those on Grannie's Branch, but still had a decent amount of flow that you could use momentum to your advantage if you didn't touch your brakes.  Using every bit of body english and both sides of the road, I tried to expend as little energy as possible, because I knew the last 13 miles was going to be an SOB.

I stopped at the final aid station to fill one bottle and enjoy another cold Coke.  This time I just grabbed the whole can, instead of the little "pee" cups they had at Aid #2. No sooner had I pulled out of the aid station to begin a nice gravel descent, I came upon at least 10 horseman coming up towards me.  Dag nab it!  I stopped, got off my bike, and began walking.  The lead horse was still acting spooky, so then I picked up my bike and carried it.  Apparently, they don't like hearing the "buzz" of my Industry 9's as much as I do.  Soon they were past me and I was able to remount just in time for a hard right and a steep climb.

And then the Redbird Crest Trail began.  This moto trail is very similar to the Tibbs Trail in North Georgia.  Chunkified, steep, and off-camber.  It was during this 2 mile ascent that I had no less than 5 dirt bikes pass me.  This trail is hard enough to manage when you are in your own little world of hurt; now imagine trying to stay upright and give way to motos spitting dirt and noise at you.  Fortunately, the dudes were polite and took the more difficult line; a few even gave me hoots and hollers of encouragement.

Once at the top, it leveled off (kind of) and I could not believe how good of shape the trail was in.  Had it not been for the 2 HAB's that I remembered, I would have swore I was riding different trail than in 2019,  Kudos to the TrailSick crew and others who put in a lot of hours of hard work cleaning out 6 miles of trail.  As opposed to the umpteenth number of mudholes in 2019, this year there were 5.  The trail was in such good shape, I popped out onto the mining property in record time.

Smelling the barn, I put the remainder of my energy into hammering out this section that ran through an abandoned coal strip mine.  After about 15 minutes, I kept expecting to see the final descent just around the next corner.  Well that corner turned into another that turned into another that turned into another.  You see where I am going with this.  I was slowly dying up here and I could swear that this mine had grown in the last 3 years.

And it wasn't flat by any means; it just kept on undulating.  I think it was here that I finally cracked and let out a Yosemite Sam rant.  That final descent down to the finish line never tasted so good!  I came under the arch with a time of 5:41 and took the "W."  I was only a minute slower than in 2019!  I was super stoked with my result, considering how miserable (physically) I felt during the Appalachian Journey just 3 weeks ago.

After recovering with another ice cold Coke, a sponge bath, and a change of clothes, I hung out at the finish waiting on John, and just enjoying the stoke.  It is so good to have that spark back; I just wish I knew the formula, as it seems to be constantly changing.  Oh, well, I should and try to live in the moment and be gracious that I can do this at all.

Reclaiming the helmet!

John ended up having a good race as well, beating his expected time by 15 minutes.  And after subjecting him to a truly "enhanced" gravel race, we are still friends.

That evening, the racers were treated to an afterparty prepared by John Maggard's family and close friends, including the mayor.  The food was bountiful and amazing and getting to hang around the fire and meet new friends and catch up with old ones was a bonus.  Moonshine and bourbon was plentiful; people enjoyed, but did not get stupid.

This is by far, one of my favorite gravel races.  I love the small town grassroots flavor.  You could see the love that the race director has for the area that he lives in.  And the town supported him fully!  The schwag, finishing award, and podium awards were flowing over.  No one left this race hungry.

Good times and great memories that I will cherish forever.  Writing this just a few days after the event has kind of left me #trailsick.  Fortunately I have a trophy that has to be returned to next year's event, so I guess I am going!